Flapper

Her mother was a raver in the eighties. Her Grandmother, a Hippy in the sixties. Her Great-Granny had enjoyed life in the Blitz. And Great-Great Grandmamma had been a Flapper. Rebellion ran in her blood like Ecstacy or Marijuana. Like Amphetamines or Martinis. She was conscious of the cliche of rebelling by conforming and was determined not to live that cliche. Her rebellion had yet to find its form, that was all.