Why a Bust Form (/Mannequin/Dress Form)?

So why am I choosing the bust form as the star of my style blog? There are a buttload of reasons.

They serve functional and aesthetic purposes.

I tend to focus on their decorative uses. I think simulated human bodies are cool. Period. They come in so many different varieties. They can display clothing, jewelry, accessories, all of the above... or they can just sit there and be. One of the objectives of this blog is to share interesting ways that dress forms and mannequins (and their parts) can be displayed.

On a side note, I can't sew. (I've used a sewing machine once or twice, but I can't repair or make clothes.) I want to be able to one day, and that's probably another reason I'm so attracted to dress forms. Buying a sewing machine is on my list. Whether or not I learn to use it--and use it well--will be another adventure entirely. For now, I enjoy treating my forms like knick-knacks.

I don't enjoy being photographed.

I've always wanted to author a style blog, but the thought of photographing myself/being photographed several times per week sounds more like hell than an enjoyable hobby. Using the forms is my compromise.

Further evidence: as a senior in high school (and yearbook staffer), I ensured that the shot of me with my arm covering my face ran with my Senior Bests award. The award was for Most Curious George fruit snacks consumed throughout high school. Full disclosure, I also created the category.

Likewise, I'm horrible at styling my hair.

I'm fully aware pretty manicures, creative make-up and enviable hair can take bloggers far, but honestly, I'm not good at it. Sometimes I don't even want to use energy on those things. I bite my nails when I'm anxious. I have long hair, but usually I just side part it and let it go. I can swipe a lovely cat-eye with liner, but my eyeshadow skills are comparable to a middle schooler's.

I like to think womanhood is a process.

I'm getting restless with my personal style again.

It's not that I don't love what's in my closet. I just feel--as I did when I babysat my first dress form--that what I want to wear conflicts with what I have to wear. There are days when I want to be able to leave my apartment in bright tights, or an old t-shirt with holes, or an obnoxious print, but there's:

• a work-related reason not to: I'm 25, but in my current job I attend municipal meetings, school district board meetings and Chamber of Commerce luncheons. It's been awkward to define the line between between young professional and young, and that eliminates a lot of options when I'm dressing for a work function. You can't really wear canary yellow tights to a city council meeting without feeling too showy. (But props if you do. Seriously.) 
• St. Louis weather: St. Louis always seems to be a few degrees warmer than the rest of the Midwest. It's great when you can pull off a light coat during winter's frostiest, but summer is a sauna. I sweat. A lot. 

Part of me is craving that 'alter ego' again, to make use of the clothes I realize I don't.

Another similarity--I recently moved.

I first inherited a dress form when I moved into my first real apartment. It was the first time I could move the majority of my belongings from home... and I had no clue where to put anything. I found that when I was anxious, or when I was avoiding obligations (like unpacking), I'd gravitate toward the dress form.

As of this writing I've lived in my new apartment for one month. It's mostly set up, but there's a lagoon of boxes in my living room of stuff that still needs to be put away. When I want to avoid the boxes, I pick out a new outfit.

I want to document fun ways to wear and remix pieces in my closet--especially additions.

Who didn't envy Cher's closet computer program in "Clueless?" Sometimes I have ideas for outfits and forget them later, or I stick to one way of wearing an item. This will help me keep track of everything.

Dress forms never have 'fat days.'

The best part of dressing the form instead of myself is that layers never look too chunky, or I can slap on something that may not fit me quite right. No one has to see me squirm in photos. Michael Scott would call that a win-win-win.