I looked over from the line I was standing in at The Gap in midtown and started to laugh.
"Wow," I said, turning to the young woman behind me and pointing out to her the scantily-clad mannequin to our left. "I noticed fashion was getting a little more risque, but I think this might be stretching it..."
"Did they do that on purpose?" she wondered.
"I don't know, can't really tell these days, what with some of the outfits the ladies are wearing, the over-the-knee boots and knee socks, short skirts...Maybe they've finally decided to just be honest, to offer up a little window into what people really hope to get out of wearing some of these sexier styles."
The girl nodded but looked a little scared at my rant. Right then, as we continued to stare at the headless vixen with the perfect pecs and the beckoning open zipper, a woman (the young woman's mother, it turned out,) came alongside the mannequin with a shocked expression and tugged a bit at her cardigan to try to cover her exposed breasts.
I lost it. It was hilarious, perfect. The woman came toward me shaking her head. "What if a man was up here?" she asked, mortified.
I laughed. "You mean men haven't seen that before?" I asked.
By this point, I was up at the cashier, who had already alerted her manager to the issue of the half-dressed mannequin. Apparently, it was not on purpose. The manager, I daresay, was not at all amused as she ran over to button up the sales-figure's figure behind closed material. I had placed a gold star on the babe's plastic breast that might be there still, a reminder of what people are so often TRYING to do by dressing well...The Gap is, I guess, supposed to be more subtle in its marketing.