Showroom Dummies

As long as I can remember, I’ve watched Saturday Night Live. Not ‘cause it’s consistently funny or even worthwhile. I’m just a loyal consumer.

Then sometimes a TV show can take a fatal, ridiculous turn, and it becomes forever dead to me. I’m looking at you, Grey’s Anatomy, or “Postal Service Hospital: the O.C./ER,” I call it. I was never really invested, aside from my girlhood love for Patrick Dempsey, but my friends watched it, so I figured what the hell. But the moment that chick from Sideways was impaled with the fallen icicle I forever turned my back on those philandering doctors. I like preposterous tripe, but that was way too much.

I’m like this with lots of stuff: film directors, sushi bars, dudes. I’m a Scorpio: Loyal to a fault, so when shit gets super-fucked, it usually spells curtains for us. Some may call this behavior “vindictive,” or “petty,” but, you know what? Fuck those guys! They’re dead to me, too.

These days, Old Navy’s number one with a bullet on the Dead-to-Me List. The cheap-but-on-occasion-cute clothing chain’s latest “Super Modelquins” campaign features a rag tag bunch of stiff yet racially diverse ON mannequins who get engaged, lose their fingers, have leg tattoos of former lovers and suffer morning sickness all the while dressed in affordable resort wear. Each commercial plays like a soap opera serial that pits the ‘quins in dramatic situations I’d barely care about if the people in question were actual humans. I mean, who gives if Josh can’t choose between Kelly and Heather? First of all, Kelly and Heather look exactly alike. And Josh is a fucking eunuch. Why would Kelly or Heather even want to vie for his fake plastic love in the first place?

Old Navy’s launched True Hollywood Story spoofs about the origin of the Super Modelquins on YouTube. They’re on display in all Old Navy storefronts. Shoppers are encouraged to snap photos with Kelly, sporting a bold Old Navy tankini for only $24.99. Or obligatory black modelquin, mother of two Michelle, summer ready in her Old Navy town gown. Town gown? Really? As if calling them “maxi dresses” last year wasn’t enough.

Previous O.N. ads featured Morgan Fairchild and the late Carrie Donovan, bespectacled fashion doyenne of the New York Times, kitsching about in performance fleece. The spots were corny and charming. Not that I’d ever wear performance anything, but my closet floors have been known to be littered with an occasional Old Navy cotton dress. Until, you know, the ‘quins came to town.

Maybe I’d like ‘em more if the Super Modelquins were magical and came to life, like Pygmalion’s beloved statue in Greek mythology, Andrew McCarthy’s beloved Kim Cattrall in the 1987 movie Mannequin, or Jodie the window display designer’s be-hatted Jeff from creepy 1980’s Canadian children’s show Today’s Special.

Yeah, I’d probably budge on my boycott if that happened. Because being a true blue Scorpio, my vindictiveness is only matched by my willingness to forgive.

–Megan Metzger