a young woman making her formal entrance into society
I mean, they were a strange group when you think of it: Tibby's mom, the young radical; Lena's mom, the ambitious Greek putting herself through social work school; Bridget’s mom, the Alabama debutante; and my mom, the Puerto Rican with the rocky marriage.
It’s not enough to stay in Bethesda, Maryland, and hunker down in air-conditioned houses. We promised one another that someday we'd get out in the world and figure some stuff out.
in a manner marked by keen caution and watchful prudence
Lena looked at the pants warily. She shed her own khakis and pulled them on. She made sure they were buttoned and sitting straight on her hips before she glanced in the mirror.
“They’re nice pants," Lena said reverently, almost whispering. They were used to Lena, but Carmen knew that to the rest of the world she was fairly stunning.
She ducked into the store, hoping maybe he’d think he’d been mistaken, that maybe the loser girl in the polyester smock...was not the actual Tibby, but a much less cool facsimile.
Lena looked down at the whitewashed buildings, much like this one, clinging to cliffs jutting down to the water. She hadn’t realized before how steep it was, how strange a spot it was to make a home.
Though Lena had grown up in a flat, sprawling, grassy suburb where people feared no natural disaster worse than mosquitoes or traffic on the beltway, she’d always known her roots were here.
a work of art that imitates the style of some previous work
She’d decided the morning after the vow of the Pants that she was going to record her summer of discontent in a movie—a suckumentary, a pastiche of lameness.