Dancing on Exclaimed Point

I spotted this petite gem puff in the East Village. At the awkward time of her puberty's prime when all others her age would be attempting invisibility, she was dancing like a beyond-the-stars champion.

Only one thing she wore was not orange, beige or pale, but it was made of disco-sequins in every shimmying shade of true blue. If she could twist it, snap it, twirl it, or tap it, she was... ARE YOU? EXCLAMATiON POiNT!