THE CHAMPION GIRL CATHEXIS, SERIES I: IMOGEN & VANESSA
I’ve been passing by Champion Party Supply for almost four years now, so often that I now define the seasons by the display changes. I’ve always assigned a portion of the ineffable mystery to those things encased in glass or plastic (i.e. reliquaries, mannequin displays, cellophane toy packaging, and even those weird Fisher-Price corn poppers): their secret spaces exist outside of our corporeal time, and more importantly, our touch. Granted, these particular models were made with cheesecake in mind, as evidenced by their distended breasts and oh-so-insouciant expressions, but a secret and complex world thrives beyond the garden-variety titillation and kitsch if you observe them at length. Imogen is perhaps the most detached and cerebral of the group, if not inconvenienced; her beauty seems a burden, albeit readily wielded as a bludgeon to any man foolish enough to misinterpret her heavy-lidded countenance as passivity. Vanessa, on the other hand, gazes inward and exudes a sensual vulnerability. Her elegant stance and half-opened mouth intimate movement, as if she is perpetually waking from a hypnogogic state with a well-kept secret sprinkled on her lips.
