Once Upon a Time, I Babysat a Bust Form

The idea started before that. It started when I was six years old, and accompanied my mom on trips to Pearl Paint in Chicago. I fell in love with the drawing manikins--especially the adult-sized ones. During those trips I'd breeze through a copy of The Onion while she spent her hour in Paper Source across the street. I dreamt of a day when I could pick up a fresh copy of the paper every week (it did, after all, inspire my interest in actual journalism). But even moreso, I dreamt of an apartment with wood floors and French doors and my very own manikin to dress. (I was never much of an artist, anyway.)

Cut to 15 years later, living in the city as a Columbia College student. A friend of mine--a fashion major--didn't have room for his dress form in his apartment, so it became the sartorial sentry in front of my bedroom door.

 

The dress form mostly donned pieces I'd found combing the two thrift shops nearby. I was a sales associate at Forever 21 at the time, and couldn't get way with obviously vintage items. It was frustrating to leave so many great pieces sitting in my closet. The dress form became a creative outlet--an alter ego for the outfits I wanted to wear but couldn't. It never mattered that I had to work that night, or that it was too cold, or too hot, or too windy, or if the ensemble's layers were awkward together. For the dress form, it was always the right occasion. On the dress form, it always fit.

Besides that, it was a mood lifter. When I was getting nervous about job hunting, or overwhelmed with my work load, I could always take that 10 (, 15, or 30) minute break to change it up.

My babysitting stint only lasted a few months. After I graduated my mom gave me my first bust form, and I've been playing dress-up ever since.