Back on the grind, Melanie returns to The Mannequin Loft, in search of creative inspiration.  The last time she came across a rare A-Frame Mannequin that looked so much like her sister she had to rescue her. Wait.  Chills creep over her as she reaches for the door.  It opens after a shoulder bump.  “Damn, my bubble goose is dirty!”, she thinks out loud. Raising her head to greet the climb, she takes several steps in and pauses to let her eyes adjust.  A flood of memories of the treacherous descent of The First Mannequin and then the A-Frame Mannequin when her boot laces snagged on the wood as she trotted up, too fast to be careful.  “Beware The Stairs, Beware The Stares” – she read aloud a small block letter sign at the base of the steps.  The journey up was uneventful.

Upon reaching the top, she grabbed her shopping cart.  The cart was a wonderful wagon discovered under a heavy tarp with A-Frame Mannequin tossed disrespectfully, inside.   “The A-Frame was unique in that she represents a completely underrepresented and practically overlooked body type in the fashion industry,” she thought to herself as she made her way to back of The Mannequin Loft.  The window light was better there and there was already a clothing rack set up from the last time.  As she made her way she imagined something big.  Something plus sized.  “Big and Beautiful!”, she shouted.  As the echoing seemed to come from multiple directions she turned her ears to match the coordinates and there they were!  A practically unheard of, real live, plus-sized mannequin!  “Has to be at least 50 inches at the hips!”, She gasped. “Hmmmmm,  that means she can fit my clothes!”, she shouted as she whispered.

Melanie, wrestled The Mannequin+ into the cart.  The cart wheels cried a rhythmic squeal as they all groaned their way across the floor.  The cart, Melanie and Mannequin+ all sharing in the relief of arriving to the back of the room unscathed except for Melanie’s heavy breathing.  She gave up cigarettes, carbohydrates and began a walking regimen and is, only now, beginning to appreciate the results.  “One down, one to go!”, she said, loud enough for her immediate audience.  As Melanie began to sachet across the room, she slowly began to realize that the Mannequin Slim was first generation and made from older and heavier materials.  She groaned, defeated at the realization that the slim model Mannequin could be as heavy and most times heavier than the more modern, yet still overlooked and rarely scene A-Frame and Plus Mannequin.  “She’s not heavy! She’s my Sister!”, she shouted defiantly as she wrested the slim but unexpectedly heavier mannequin into the cart.

Time for some fun.  Melanie began her inspiration journey by exploring hats, scarves and the intimate apparel section of her mental closet.  She dazed-away on lace and white ankle boots. And thought of her cousin. Her favorite cousin, Cal, always said “You can do a lot with a cool coat!” Melanie would always reply, “Well, I’m gonna’ do the most CAL!”.  She laughed out loud, imagining her cousin, an amazing artist, directing her imaginary photoshoot.  He is meticulous down to the fabric and eclectic props.  The shoot is EPIC in her mind.

I am a minority and so is The Mannequin+.  I will never see someone like me in the window dressing or on the cover of a fashion magazine.  I will never see a Mannequin that represents my size in the storefront.  We are marginalized.  She smiled reflecting on her choice of word. She can only recall one, extremely notable, occasion when she actually saw a well-appointed Mannequin+, the same exact model she set up on her first run across the room with the squealing wagon song.  That mannequin was barely noticeable.  Practically treated like an eyesore, she thought as she tried to remember what That Mannequin+ was wearing.

Melanie heard the gong sound of a distant Catholic church bell, reminding her that time fly’s and so must she.  Today, she would not rescue either of them.  Instead, she decided to stash them carefully back under the dark cold, creepy, lonely, dark, desolate, rat infested tarp.  Her mind began racing with fleeting familiar thoughts of gnarly pink-faced and knobby clawed rodents!  She shuttered at the thoughts that have been bolstered into a nightmare by her compassion for her Mannequin kinfolk.   She vowed to return with a plan to “borrow the cart” and return it after safely rescuing both of her new sisters. But first she had a little more fun playing dress-up with her new play mates in The Mannequin Loft.

-Hamilton