WAITING FOR A NEW DRESS

I won my first mannequin on an auction when I was 13 years old. I drove it home through town strapped onto the back of my bicycle in winter because it did not fit into the first taxi and the second taxi driver refused to put it onto his roof because it could scratch his car.

My wonderful grandmother allowed me to place it in a corner of the house where we were living at the time under the condition that it would "stay a little bit in the background " in relation to the other furniture. That was her expression at the time.

It was spray painted silver from head to toe and her feet ended into 10 cm high 1950 non-removable stilettos. I still have it.

Over the years I have bought many more and it is hard for me to resist their charm when they are " older " and do wear hand-painted make up and have their own hair. 

It is a beautiful reason that I "HAVE TO HAVE " them for my work because I sell and re-purpose vintage clothing as well. 

The older dolls have incredible facial expressions.

They seem to live and breath and sometimes you come across some unusual, a little bit weird but astonishingly beautiful ladies like the one in the picture. 

She has not only genuine glass eyes but the eyes show tiny red blood-shot veins as well. To me it seemed like as if she came from a very exotic place. 

And all of them are waiting eagerly to escape their nakedness and get a new dress.

A new bowling scarf

or a new hat

But sometimes they have a hard fate to bear being made to be blindingly beautiful and to wear silk, chiffon and satin and not to sit in the South-African bush.