Chloris/Clarice has been blighted since her youth by her sweet and stodgy surname. Her mode de vie is a reaction against it, and it's worked - she's now a one-woman terror campaign. When rumour of her approaching hits the streets, women run, babies cry and dogs howl. A single look from her can make a grown man weep and quake in his boots; she'll cackle at him, point and move on to the next victim as he falls to his knees, kissing the ground and praising the gods who've let him survive an encounter with her.
Clarice/Chloris is getting tired of this, though. She quite likes the idea of getting comfy and fat - though if she does, she'll change her surname to Mandrake. She aspires to be a crazy cat lady, although she deals with Foofoo's more exuberant moods with more patience than most of her housemates.
Chloris/Clarice is a top makeup artist, painting the faces of the rich and the famous across the world. Don't piss her off: she'll give you fat cheeks, piggy eyes, a saggy neck and a lumpy nose. But if she likes you, her touch is magic. Airbrushers hate her.
Vietnamese salads, heavy on the chilli; Dr Pepper; Guinness. Clarice/Chloris is also fond of exotic meats - springbok, crocodile, reindeer...
GAWTH music! Especially Sisters of Mercy. She also has a penchant for Depeche Mode, All About Eve, the Jesus and Marychain and Echo and the Bunnymen, although she won't have any truck with that Mission nonsense.
Velvet, Vogue, black, wrestling with her inner demons, MAC and Shu Uemura cosmetics, Prague, pyjamas, homebrew.
Bats, spiders, scary houses late at night, lightweight angst artists, bright colours, Teletubbies.
Will Self, for his brains and wit.
Top Secret :
Clarice/Chloris has a love for aquariums. Her favourite fish are pink kissing gouramis, although she thinks rays are really cool and sharks are awesome. If anyone found out she had a soft spot for other creatures, she'd simply *die*.