My girdle is killing me

Months ago I posted about the mannequins in the windows of Uniformes Oskar, a store that sells getups for anyone who labors as a chambermaid, waiter, nurse, maintenance man, doctor, gas-station attendant, et cetera (or for those who may simply fancy looking like one on the street or, um, in a more intimate moment).


Still, I don't think that the post even gives a hint of how great a part mannequins play in the everyday life in Mexico City. But not like in other cities. You see them in different states of dress or undress in many shop windows. There is at least a vague erotic suggestion. The ladies (and the gent) in the photo above are a great contrast to the middle-aged matron who confessed to another, in a TV commercial I remember from childhood: "My girdle is killing me."


In market stalls, they may or may not be clothed, and they may or may not have limbs. Or hair.


Sometimes one, or a part of one, simply serves as an ambiguous talisman.