Busted by a Mannequin

Thanks to my friend Lynn, who sent me a link to this story, my relationship with mannequins is completely deteriorated.

If you’re too lazy to click on the link (or if you’re worried that going there will make you realize there are more interesting things on MSN.com than here on my blog) allow me to summarize: Store owners are using mannequins to spy on you.

And not for just what you would think: In addition to spying on teenagers, people in unseasonably bulky coats, bored Hollywood stars, and other born shoplifters, the omniscient dummies are keeping track of our shopping habits.

Stores have been tracking what we’re buying since the Ford administration, but they didn’t know enough about us to draw any conclusions that would make them any additional money. Now, thanks to mannequins with cameras behind their eyes, if we look at a shelf of Valentines too long, we’re going to be pegged as lonely and sad. And we’re taking our whole demographic down with us.

I can’t imagine what conclusions are being drawn about my shopping habits. 

* Women whose feet are two different sizes seem to think that by walking around the store wearing the shoes for 15-20 minutes, both shoes will magically fit.

* White people spend more time looking for things for themselves than choosing the gift they came in for.

* Floridians insist on buying boots and sweaters. They are taken home to sit in sweltering closets their whole lives, but they are purchased under obligation.

* Some people need to stop buying bikinis. Keep dreaming, Fatty.

* Short people don’t know where the petite department is and don’t want to ask. It’s easier to just get your pants hemmed.

You would think that if stores are now using their mannequins as surveillance, they would take more care to get better mannequins. They’re doing the job of a person - shouldn’t they look more humanlike? 

My last blog post about mannequins, Hey Dummy! Look Alive! I talked about my love affair with mannequins when I was a little girl. And also how weird the mannequins are in Miami. For god’s sake, Miami has the weirdest mannequins of all the places I’ve been to, but I understand it’s second only to Peru, where this guy was found:

Paris is not much better. I took this photo of a storefront on the Champs-Elysees in Paris. I thought that one laying down was staring at me. Now I’m convinced she was taking note of my American accent and what bags I was holding. ("Stupid Americans will come all the way to the fashion capital of the world to go to H&M.")

And then there’s this zombie bride. If this chick has anything to say about my eye makeup purchases, she can bite me.

These guys aren't even pretending not to spy on you.

This one below is from the Young and the Restless collection of British bulimic male mannequins. It is accused of promoting waifish emo angst. I’m not kidding. It was in The Guardian.

This manboob mannequin was accused of promoting obesity. I’m not kidding. It was all over the Internet.

What? Put that thing away before an unsuspecting shopper gets hurt.

When you need to model the sexy onesie, only the creepy child mannequin will do.

 And again. What did I tell you about Miami? This was in South Beach, too.

Labels: , , , , , , ,