Mannequins freak me out little, particularly ones from the 1930s to 1980s. Those succeeding and preceding those times seem to be fine. I’m not sure if I’m weirded out by the eyes which seem to follow me around the room or down the street, or if it’s that stupid placating almost dreamy expression on their faces.
To be honest, their proportions kind of annoy me also, for no other reason than women in today’s society are made up of a plethora of varied and equally beautiful body proportions, not just the stock standard 36, 26, 26 (or whatever it’s meant to be). Continue Reading →