Say you're the curator of a small-town historical museum. You've always felt that your carefully arranged displays, complete with period furnishings, would benefit greatly from the addition of a few costumed mannequins to bring the scene to life. And you're in luck! The old Woolworth's on Main Street, which went bankrupt in the 1970s, has a few specimens in its basement: abandoned since 1957, sure; chewed on by rats, sure: still, you can't beat the price!
I can only imagine that was the thought process behind this display.
I like this one even more, because the questions it raises are almost theological in nature. Wait - who, exactly, is real here?!
Fortunately, babies during the old ranching days on the Panhandle Plains were made of sterner stuff than the floppy, helpless, pansy-assed babies we have these days. Or is that one of the dolls?! I'm confused.
This one isn't historically accurate, I'm sorry to say. A commercially-manufactured porcelain doll with rooted hair was a luxury item of the highest order, to be given as a treasured gift to a little girl in a well-to-do-family, treasured, cherished, and laid carefully away to pass on to the next generation. For a little North Texas ranch girl to own three is patently ridiculous. Sorry, people.
This one raises only one significant question, but it's a big one.
Is this a priest, or is it James Bond?! Usually it's easier to tell. Not in the turn-of-the-century Texas Panhandle, apparently.
Floosie never was popular with the other girls, even when she got that glamorous job as a switchboard operator. But she knew it was all just due to envy: her beauty, her intestinal-tract-defying slimness, her penchant for such futuristic footwear as no one had ever seen before. Baby, if you've got it going on this fierce, you know the other girls will never accept you.
It's a little-known fact that 1970s department-store mannequins suffered from a dietary deficiency that also plagued Civil War soldiers, which caused sometimes crippling defects.
Well, a few oranges will probably clear that right up. Until then, just grip your gun firmly between your toes.
The most urgent question for today: Do you think Panhandle Mannequin would make a good band name, or what?