So. Um. If you don't already think I'm weird and a little Miss-Havisham-crazy, now you will. I have mannequins. Two, plus my wire dressmaker's form. They have names and sit in our living room just like any statue or lamp. Seriously, the things DJ tolerates.
This one's name is Jesse Ventura. My little brother gave her to me for Christmas several years ago. She's a retired Victoria's Secret mannequin. In her heyday, they called her The Body. But now we call her Gov. Yes, I think I'm hilarious.
She's going to be at the eventual wedding. In our faux-photobooth, along with our other mannequin. He's a pants model named Legs, you'll meet him later. DJ and I thought it would be fun to give people something silly for posing, and what better than the mannequins? So, she needs an outfit. While vintage shopping last weekend, we bought her two dresses. Option one is above, a teal foiled damask sheath with a high collar. Very mother of the bride, c. 1968. Also appropriate for daywear in our living room.
Option two is this pink ruffled tulle prom dress. I LOVE this one. But is it too much? How would you feel about posing with your arm around this pile of crazy?