What Southern girls can grow up to be, some would have you believe, involves a pre-ordained pecking order based on looks and the kind of smarts it takes to wield a curling iron. At the very top is becoming a model. Right below that is the stewardess option. And several more steps down is the ultimate fall back position: beautician.
Of course, if all else fails, you can do what Sarah Gilbert did: become a novelist and write about this subculture of Southern redneck women.
That, and a pretty face, can get you far in this world. Why, just a couple of weeks ago, Ms. Gilbert got to be Miss Five Points in the Columbia, S.C., St. Patrick's Day parade -- something she mentions in the same amused yet flattered way in which she talks about fellow Ahm-a-Suthner author Roy Blount Jr.'s taking her to a chi-chi party in New York or an editor named Jacqueline Onassis expressing an interest in her work.
Ms. Gilbert, 32, graduate of the Millie Lewis Modeling Agency and former beautician (she somehow missed the stewardess thing), straddles both worlds these days -- rubbing elbows with the New York writerly set, yet still living in the grits-and-grins South that provides the backdrop for her comic novels, the just published "Dixie Riggs" and last year's "Hairdo."
They are novels about Southern women by a woman who, despite spending some of her high school years in Baltimore, is ** Southern to the bone.
"I've become a local celebrity. The rumors are flying," Ms. Gilbert said, in a lazy, drawly voice, about her status in Columbia gossip circles. "One rumor is I've become a hooker on 42nd Street. Ha -- I never made it past 40th Street."
But as any Southerner knows, truth is stranger than fiction, and ++ Ms. Gilbert's own life has provided ample material for her novels.
Her books are littered with autobiographical references, such as a boyfriend who is a body builder and aspiring televangelist, a modeling school of grandiloquent claims, and the usual beauty parlors and Baptist dunkings of the stereotypical Southern landscape.
"There's a truth to a stereotype," said the big-haired, blue-eyed Ms. Gilbert, who was in Baltimore promoting her book Wednesday. "But you want to get to that truth and make it come alive."
She was a beautician and former drop-out, giving college about its fifth try several years ago, when she landed in a writing class at the University of South Carolina.
One of the short stories she wrote for the class was discovered by Mr. Blount, who included it in a humor anthology. She befriended another visiting writer, James Wolcott, and through such connections ended up publishing "Hairdo," a tale of competing beauty parlors in a small town with one Hardee's, four gas stations and not much else.
"It's been real Cinderella," she said in an interview during a book promotion tour that, while it includes stops in New York City and Washington, more often lands her in the likes of Myrtle Beach, Raleigh/Durham, Charleston, Pittsboro and -- three different /^ times! -- Columbia.
Like many writers, she rejects the genre label; in her case, that of the Southern writer. Yet that is what her books unmistakably are all about -- characters named Earline, Miss Ruby and Buck living in locales like Renee Dupree's World of Fashion Modeling of Myrtle Beach or the Tres Chic Beauty Salon of Stuckey, S.C.
"Dixie Riggs," for example, tells the tale of the title character and her conniving best friend Sparkle, their interferin' mommas, Trina and LeDaire, and some of the men they share, such as Buck
Speed III and Donnie Sessions. It's one of those books in which as much thought seems to have gone into what to name the characters as what to do with them.
She defends her women characters, who tend to be low-rent, back-stabbing and none too bright.
"I think [Dixie and Sparkle] are bright women who are not in a . . . bright class. They haven't had the chances that others might," she said. "So what happens is that's where the manipulation comes in. But I don't think it's vicious manipulation on either part."
Not if you don't consider it vicious to steal your best friend's guy or get her thrown out of modeling school. Not if you don't consider it vicious to mix oil into your best friend's hair spray and unscrew the heels on her shoes just before she goes out on the runway for an outdoor modeling gig.
Perhaps it's a Southern thing. And Ms. Gilbert does see a subtle distinction between Southern women and their Yankee counterparts.
"I think we all sit by the phone and wait for him to call," she said in seemingly utter seriousness. "We all have the same desires and despairs. Sometimes I think Southern women just dramatize it more. Southerners -- and this is a sweeping generalization -- tend to choose better words and snappier phrasing. I think it's because it's so hot, you want to make every word count."