Author's note: I had a narrator rolling about in my head and then after writing down what I could, I realized... this sounds really narcissistic as I'm kind of describing (in an overly flattering manner) myself. So instead I would encourage you to envision 'Clementine' from 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind' or 'Ramona' from 'Scott Pilgrim vs The World' because I imagine it will make the following passages less awkward.
Additionally, it should be noted that I've been reading Steve Martin's 'Shopgirl' and thus have been thinking about things in a similar narrative.
She was difficult to ignore. Most women accomplished this trait with exceptionally long legs or strategically low cut blouses--she had neither. He supposed he could blame it on the manner in which she dressed--though it wasn't particularly outlandish, she had somehow managed to work in a good deal more color than most people manage. It made her stand out... As if Dorothy had returned to sepia-toned Kansas but retained her technicolor-hue. Her hair even, he was certain, was too brilliantly shaded to not have been 'colored after production' so to speak.
But that wasn't why he was staring. True, the shuttle from one gate to the other was a bleak ride, muted further by the fluorescent lights overhead and the soothing electronic voice that cooly announced each gate, so it was only logical that she would stand out. Yet there was something more than saturation to her; something about the mere way she chose to exert her existence that absolutely captivated him.