Elizabeth Tiffany Prescott gets better with age. She’s only twenty-six, but so far, this is an accurate assessment. She used to believe that black and white films served as evidence that the world itself lacked color. In a fit of desperation that only a quarter-life crisis can evoke, she asked her younger sister, “what should I be when I grow up?” To which her sister replied, “I feel like the only thing I see you doing is being the boss.”
Elizabeth Tiffany Prescott is a busy woman. When she’s not overextending herself, she likes to experiment in the kitchen and spend time with her dog, Jack. Her favorite smell is that of her hometown when it rains, and she prefers falling asleep with a book on her face—hands still clasped around the edges—and the light on.
Elizabeth Tiffany Prescott is tired of the world’s shit. She’s got a thing or two to say about navigating life as a twenty-something and she’s ready to say it. She enjoys making eye contact with strangers she passes on the street and giving them the slight nod that says, “I see you, my fellow human.” She will tell you that the best part of every day is going home to her dog, and no matter how spectacular her day has been, when he greets her—tiny tail wagging—her heart swells and she knows it’s the truth.