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| The New York Optimist |
The Mannequin-Minira Asianova, mmmhoneyy27@yahoo.com
She existed in an environment of New York City mirrors and marble floors. It was in her eyes that I saw the marching waves of the
five boroughs, and dreamt of the cobalt seas that defined the city. As ice painted her naked body silver, I greedily inhaled the aroma
of the faceless Manhattan street. I stood there blinded , with every human now replaced by snow. There were no azalea's, no
forbidden fruits, yet she managed to give birth to a metropolitan Eden with her dummy ways. Inside of her there was no heart, nor a
spring or metal. As she stood there with her wax eyes aiming for the New York sky, I understood the true essence and grace of the
city. I observed the crying of her lonely shoulders, the sheaf of plastic ribs that now and then appeared, and thus I realized that she
was the true personification of a melancholic but lively city as a whole. Caged behind the dusty glass of a Macy’s window display,
the mannequin forever altered my views of New York City, turning it from a rather hollow and barbaric place into one of surrealism
and beauty.
As I stomped along the transparent streets of New York, my frail body sunk into the blinding fog that surrounded the city. Lost
among the concave buildings, that although stood solid seemed to acquire no space, my worried eyes suddenly met a hollow piece
of mass. Dressed in a rather odd fashion, the object, that simply turned out to be a sleeping man, shook my interest. His ragged
clothes and pungent smell off raw eggs pushed against my nostrils and woke me up on that New York morning. The homeless man’
s growling stomach, ungroomed hair, and dirty face put me into a state of melancholy. This pounding city known for its wealth and
fortune in truth hid a rather dark and cavernous secret; a life of emptiness and absolute gauntness. I now pictured this man as a
personification of the fog that surrounded me as I made my way through the city. He possessed the same vagueness, tenuousness
and insignificance as that of the city’s fog. His absence of a home, a family, and a real meaning for existence blinded me of all the
luxuries present in New York. I suddenly despised the city for its dehumanizing effects upon my homeless comrade, who due to
starvation, loneliness and treachery metamorphosed into a hollow city fog.
My aversion to New York further increased when I began to observe the objects that surrounded the homeless man. An excessive
amount of unnecessary shopping bags, garbage picked food, and old newspapers all created a barbaric scene. I was flustered by the
conditions in which this man lived every day of his life, and cursed the city for allowing such a view to be regarded with such
insignificance. As I tried to absorb the atrocious sight before me, my eyes spotted what looked like the bottom of a cardboard box. I
carefully tried to decipher the words written on the box, without waking the man, and soon enough was able to make out the phrase
“Father passed away. Need money for funeral.” I could feel the cold sweat plunging out of every pore in my body, longing to battle
the barbaric city that brought this man to such a state. At that moment I saw New York as no other than a cruel and savage being
who tortured innocent souls by ridding them of what to them was most valuable.
After my encounter with the homeless man, New York became a distant island which I sought to never explore; but that however
would all change. Soon enough I was bound to realize that New York is actually a place of unimaginable beauty and surrealism, that
to my surprise could be found as easily as pity in a homeless man. On one particularly frosty day, six months after I saw the
homeless man, I decided to take a stroll down Broadway, when suddenly I was blinded by a glistening object. Learning to never
again follow my curiosity, I battled whether or not I should come closer and observe the source of my interest. After much debate,
I approached the near-by window display and was in shock to find its contents. The sight of her style, posture and grace sparked a
metamorphosis within me and left me quite paralyzed. A plastic sculpture housed within New York’s biggest department store lured
me into a world I secretly wanted to explore. At the time I was unaware that this world would overshadow my encounter with the
homeless man, and forever alter my views of New York City.
She was dressed in a rather colorful attire. A pair of sparkly auburn shoes that clearly matched her perfectly painted lips; a golden
purse, much like a treasure chest, that hung upon her icy skin and weighted down her fragile limbs; and a delicious gown of all the
colors in the world, as if a Dali painting was shattered and sewn together into a piece of cloth. To me this was the epitome of New
York beauty, since the mannequins grace and fashion somehow represented that of the city. As I carefully observed the various
colors that hugged the bodice of the plastic figure, I suddenly recalled of the beauty of New York as it changes its seasonal colors.
The fashionable treasure chest reminded me of the endless city sky which at night reflected the golden lights of the buildings
underneath it. The auburn strokes found in the dummy’s features personified the fiery city life that lured people from all around the
world. The mannequin, like New York itself, had so much life within it, that its solid shape seemed to metamorphose into a lively
spirit right before my eyes.
Within seconds, a plastic figure was able to transform New York into not only a beautiful
place but one of surrealism. The thoughts of the city being hollow and barbaric vanished from my thoughts. No more did I think of
New York as a place where the needy were forgotten, but rather as one that brings its residents into a state of hallucinations found
only in our dreams. New York’s surrealism was captured in the complection and overall physical look of the mannequin. The
perfectly carved grin resembled that of New York women, who every morning fulfilled the dreamy role of mothers, daughters,
wives, and friends. The cobalt eyes that were aimed at the sky paralleled the surreal buildings that gave the city a certain mirrored
look. I found a certain harmony in the mannequin, one that so much resembled New York City. It’s simple yet extravagant beauty
was clearly a representation of New York itself.
Whether it was her cobalt eyes or perfectly dressed limbs, the Macy’s mannequin is my eternal and life changing representation of
New York. Traveling upon this journey of discovering the true essence of New York, I ranged from viewing the city as a hollow
and barbaric place to one of beauty and surrealism. The loveliness that I found in a plastic sculpture gave more life to my
understanding of New York than an unfortunate homeless man. Who ever thought that a lifeless doll with no momentum, could
spark a change in one’s view of a lively city always on the move.
She existed in an environment of New York City mirrors and marble floors. It was in her eyes that I saw the marching waves of the
five boroughs, and dreamt of the cobalt seas that defined the city. As ice painted her naked body silver, I greedily inhaled the aroma
of the faceless Manhattan street. I stood there blinded , with every human now replaced by snow. There were no azalea's, no
forbidden fruits, yet she managed to give birth to a metropolitan Eden with her dummy ways. Inside of her there was no heart, nor a
spring or metal. As she stood there with her wax eyes aiming for the New York sky, I understood the true essence and grace of the
city. I observed the crying of her lonely shoulders, the sheaf of plastic ribs that now and then appeared, and thus I realized that she
was the true personification of a melancholic but lively city as a whole. Caged behind the dusty glass of a Macy’s window display,
the mannequin forever altered my views of New York City, turning it from a rather hollow and barbaric place into one of surrealism
and beauty.
As I stomped along the transparent streets of New York, my frail body sunk into the blinding fog that surrounded the city. Lost
among the concave buildings, that although stood solid seemed to acquire no space, my worried eyes suddenly met a hollow piece
of mass. Dressed in a rather odd fashion, the object, that simply turned out to be a sleeping man, shook my interest. His ragged
clothes and pungent smell off raw eggs pushed against my nostrils and woke me up on that New York morning. The homeless man’
s growling stomach, ungroomed hair, and dirty face put me into a state of melancholy. This pounding city known for its wealth and
fortune in truth hid a rather dark and cavernous secret; a life of emptiness and absolute gauntness. I now pictured this man as a
personification of the fog that surrounded me as I made my way through the city. He possessed the same vagueness, tenuousness
and insignificance as that of the city’s fog. His absence of a home, a family, and a real meaning for existence blinded me of all the
luxuries present in New York. I suddenly despised the city for its dehumanizing effects upon my homeless comrade, who due to
starvation, loneliness and treachery metamorphosed into a hollow city fog.
My aversion to New York further increased when I began to observe the objects that surrounded the homeless man. An excessive
amount of unnecessary shopping bags, garbage picked food, and old newspapers all created a barbaric scene. I was flustered by the
conditions in which this man lived every day of his life, and cursed the city for allowing such a view to be regarded with such
insignificance. As I tried to absorb the atrocious sight before me, my eyes spotted what looked like the bottom of a cardboard box. I
carefully tried to decipher the words written on the box, without waking the man, and soon enough was able to make out the phrase
“Father passed away. Need money for funeral.” I could feel the cold sweat plunging out of every pore in my body, longing to battle
the barbaric city that brought this man to such a state. At that moment I saw New York as no other than a cruel and savage being
who tortured innocent souls by ridding them of what to them was most valuable.
After my encounter with the homeless man, New York became a distant island which I sought to never explore; but that however
would all change. Soon enough I was bound to realize that New York is actually a place of unimaginable beauty and surrealism, that
to my surprise could be found as easily as pity in a homeless man. On one particularly frosty day, six months after I saw the
homeless man, I decided to take a stroll down Broadway, when suddenly I was blinded by a glistening object. Learning to never
again follow my curiosity, I battled whether or not I should come closer and observe the source of my interest. After much debate,
I approached the near-by window display and was in shock to find its contents. The sight of her style, posture and grace sparked a
metamorphosis within me and left me quite paralyzed. A plastic sculpture housed within New York’s biggest department store lured
me into a world I secretly wanted to explore. At the time I was unaware that this world would overshadow my encounter with the
homeless man, and forever alter my views of New York City.
She was dressed in a rather colorful attire. A pair of sparkly auburn shoes that clearly matched her perfectly painted lips; a golden
purse, much like a treasure chest, that hung upon her icy skin and weighted down her fragile limbs; and a delicious gown of all the
colors in the world, as if a Dali painting was shattered and sewn together into a piece of cloth. To me this was the epitome of New
York beauty, since the mannequins grace and fashion somehow represented that of the city. As I carefully observed the various
colors that hugged the bodice of the plastic figure, I suddenly recalled of the beauty of New York as it changes its seasonal colors.
The fashionable treasure chest reminded me of the endless city sky which at night reflected the golden lights of the buildings
underneath it. The auburn strokes found in the dummy’s features personified the fiery city life that lured people from all around the
world. The mannequin, like New York itself, had so much life within it, that its solid shape seemed to metamorphose into a lively
spirit right before my eyes.
Within seconds, a plastic figure was able to transform New York into not only a beautiful
place but one of surrealism. The thoughts of the city being hollow and barbaric vanished from my thoughts. No more did I think of
New York as a place where the needy were forgotten, but rather as one that brings its residents into a state of hallucinations found
only in our dreams. New York’s surrealism was captured in the complection and overall physical look of the mannequin. The
perfectly carved grin resembled that of New York women, who every morning fulfilled the dreamy role of mothers, daughters,
wives, and friends. The cobalt eyes that were aimed at the sky paralleled the surreal buildings that gave the city a certain mirrored
look. I found a certain harmony in the mannequin, one that so much resembled New York City. It’s simple yet extravagant beauty
was clearly a representation of New York itself.
Whether it was her cobalt eyes or perfectly dressed limbs, the Macy’s mannequin is my eternal and life changing representation of
New York. Traveling upon this journey of discovering the true essence of New York, I ranged from viewing the city as a hollow
and barbaric place to one of beauty and surrealism. The loveliness that I found in a plastic sculpture gave more life to my
understanding of New York than an unfortunate homeless man. Who ever thought that a lifeless doll with no momentum, could
spark a change in one’s view of a lively city always on the move.
