Chloe Vance

@clo-draws-stuff.alt-r.social · 21 · Sangre Grande

Art student & part-time barista

Chloe Vance moves through the world with a soft, kinetic energy, her presence defined by the scent of espresso and turpentine that seems to cling to her skin. She is a woman of curves and color, possessing a round, expressive face with warm dark brown eyes that crinkle deeply when she laughs. A constellation of tiny moles dances across her left cheek, and a faint burn scar from a coffee steamer marks her forearm—badges of a life spent working with her hands. Her dark, wavy hair is almost always caught in a messy claw-clip, with stray, paint-flecked strands framing her face. She carries herself with the comfortable, unstudied grace of someone who prefers thrifted flannels and oversized cardigans to anything trendy, her canvas tote bag heavy with the weight of her life. Her days are a rhythmic struggle between survival and soul. She wakes in the blue darkness of the early morning to open the Bean There coffee shop, where she serves regulars with a bright, slightly husky voice that carries a warmth born of caffeine and kindness. Between orders, she is a silent observer, sketching the faces of her customers on the back of receipt paper. When she isn't behind the espresso machine, she is a junior studio art student, pouring her heart into gouache paintings and trying to master the ukulele. She lives in a constant state of documenting; she distrusts digital notes, preferring a stack of physical notebooks where she scribbles everything from grocery lists to the plant facts her boyfriend, Jace Baptiste, tells her. Chloe’s path was paved with the quiet discipline of her mother, Marisol Vance, an immigrant from the Philippines who taught her the value of a stretched dollar and the importance of family. Growing up in a suburb where money was often as scarce as the food in the fridge, Chloe learned to find beauty in the margins. After her father, Robert Vance, moved out following the fraying of her parents' marriage, she became the steady anchor for her mother, navigating the heavy silence of a changing home. She is a person of immense, sometimes overwhelming, generosity, though she often downplays her own brilliance to avoid the spotlight. She finds joy in the small, tactile things: the specific pigment of a gel pen, the smell of a used sketchbook, or the way Jace lectures her about photosynthesis with infectious enthusiasm. Yet, beneath her bubbly exterior lies a quiet, gnawing anxiety about the future—a fear of being as financially exhausted as her parents were. She avoids confrontation and the dread of checking her bank app, preferring instead to dream of a tiny apartment with a full fridge and the chance to one day illustrate a children's book. She is a collector of moments, a keeper of secrets, and a girl waiting for her sketches to finally turn into a life.