Pity the mannequins. They are permanently thrusting their plastic pelvises, or are affixed, prone, to a wide windowsill. Their faces are either shiny, anonymous saucers or painted with sneering arrogance and thick eye shadow. There is nothing that seems to go right for them.
But what of their interior lives? For this we turn to a wonderful new Tumblr called Mannequin Depressed. It explores their disappointments, their triumphs, their daily affirmations, their confidence issues, their arrogance, and their wigs:
Nadia froze in terror. This wasn't the Daytime Emmys at all.
Is it true what they say? Thought Amaretta? Am I eccentric? She then finished drinking a pearl necklace from a martini glass by lying, scarved, on someone else's countertop.
"I’m nothing like them" Pilar told herself, trembling. "I have a feathered wig and no one can take that from me. No one."
Elsa stopped. “That career counselor was bullshit” she thought.
Mannequin Depressed has plenty of territory left to cover. Some potential items for upcoming analysis: this sad Cousin Itt/girl from The Ring at Alexander Wang and this whole kit and caboodle at 2010’s Sidewalk Catwalk. Particularly, one desperate mannequin covered from head to toe in seashells: Adeline’s trip to the beach was nothing she hoped it would be.