(composed primarily of relatives, bffs, Chuck
The sidewalk. (And in case it’s not clear, we are the flocking flamingos.)
And, OMFG, the me! Inside the window! Looking out into the crowd! And on to the sidewalk!
Thursday marked the recreation of a long-time dream on steroids, only this time in reality.
In cahoots with the grade A felines at Tibi,
I was handed the opportunity to style a Lexington Avenue window at Bloomingdales.
Holy moly somebody pinch me! Not too hard though, I’m anemic. Atop the gig, I was told there would be a crowd watching while I styled. Like installation art, but more offensive. I felt like a mime. Separated from society by a glass wall of emotion.
I tried my hardest to share the thoughts coming out of my mouth as I styled but nobody could hear me. I even yelled “labia.” And while I can’t write as fast as I type, thank heavens I was given a white board.
folk, they think over everything.
In this photo, I give the mannequin the same crop top I am wearing so that we could match. If you weren’t there, I’ll just tell you that what followed was a “Who Wore it Best” contest between the mannequin and me, conducted in sign language, of course. Also, in case you’re wondering about the temperature inside a department store window, that shit is boiling. Looking back, I feel terribly bad for those mannequins. It’s like a perpetual shvitz fest in there. Especially now with all those layers. Sorry guys.
The mannequins and me became fast friends so I borrowed these sunglasses from one of them without even asking. She didn’t protest. I looked out into the crowd wearing them with a sign that read “Man, are you repelled?” …exactly as the photo suggests. As it happens, the man I was targeting was French and didn’t understand very much English. Lucky for him, my French speaking grandmother stood right in front of him and translated the whole fiasco. Ultimately, his response was, “Americans are weird.”
Narcissus called, he wants his identity back. But come on now, how many opportunities will a woman have in her lifetime to see a blown up version of herself wearing a onesie inside a window that she will have access to? I’m hoping for myself, at least a couple more. But you never know, so I went in for the kill.
Voila, here’s a glimpse at the finished product. Prints, lots of them. Hats. Neon sunglasses. Layers. Leather. Loads o’belts. There’s a turban to the far left but you can’t see her. Trust me when I tell you though, she is single.
And now in this last photo, I give you, Man Repeller
The human version.