The first internet celebrity was a first-come/first-served coffee machine shared by computer scientists at Cambridge University in England. Although I've agreed to return, the message is clear: Stay away from Loli-chan.īefore there were sexpots, there were coffee pots. Even the peacocks jut their heads threateningly. Slumped over on a cream-colored couch, she admits how the whole mess began: "I used to make friends over the internet because I couldn't have friends in real life."Īs I head to my car, an aged beagle with a Ping-Pong-ball-size tumor behind its right ear follows me down the meandering driveway. Loli isn't a big drinker - and rarely imbibes anything with an alcohol content above 5 percent - but now she's uncharacteristically downing her third beverage in 15 minutes. When her parents gave her an HP computer at age 11, no one could have predicted she would end up suspended from her Catholic school, committed to Jackson Memorial Hospital's psych ward, and resorting to sex work as an adult. Although some of these young women have gone on to achieve mainstream or cult fame, Loli now spends her days living a cloistered and fearful existence, stripping for dimes in front of her webcam. Many men developed a lifelong obsession with the youngest Chan, whom they named after the book Lolita. She is what's known online as a Chan - one of maybe 20 girls who became famous in the mid-'00s for posting photos of themselves on image boards.
At one point, a handful of fansites existed solely to share her images. A few tricked her into taking her clothes off, which increased her popularity. She befriended hundreds of men who would correspond with her daily over Instant Messenger. She made her name on 4chan, the famously anarchic bulletin board that turned 10 years old this past September. The real reason for the parental paranoia is this: Loli is a pedophile celebrity who began cultivating a following when she posted photos of herself online at age 13. "They have a lot of handguns, bro," Lucien says of Loli's mom and dad. Now visitors are infrequent and unwelcome. After taking a particularly nasty brand of hallucinogenic known as 2-CE, Loli ended up in the hospital, he says. Lucien has short, strawberry-blond hair, wears a "Don't Tread on Me" tank top over his slender frame, and punctuates almost every sentence with "bro." The 22-year-old explains that Loli's dad is probably paranoid because the last time she invited a friend over, it ended badly. Standing nearby is her boyfriend, who cooks a mean eggplant Parmesan and tidies their shared space.
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Her full lips swallow the tears as she translates: "I was told to end my social engagement and that I wasn't allowed to have people over." Loli gulps a glass of Smirnoff Ice Green Apple Bite and tries to calm herself. Then she tells her daughter this place is no " putería" - whorehouse. "We don't have guests in our house, and you can't either!" her mom shouts in Colombian-accented Spanish so loud I can hear it.
Her half-moon eyes turn to dinner plates when she pulls it to her dainty ear. Loli and I are chatting on a quiet Friday afternoon when, suddenly, her Razr phone lights up blue. She doesn't drive and has never lived apart from her folks, except for an ill-fated year at a private university in North Florida. This damsel in distress is a chubby-cheeked, blue-haired, five-foot-and-a-quarter-inch, 20-year-old womanchild in a push-up bra and jeans with stylish zippers that zigzag across her curvaceous frame. Wooden boards and strips of tin foil cover its windows. She rarely leaves a guest house that sits in a jungle-like yard overrun with six peacocks and half as many junked cars. Loli-chan is a modern-day Rapunzel locked inside a South Miami fortress of rust and weeds on a dead-end street.
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