Capitalist cynicism, doublethink, and plastic nipples.

For about as long as I can remember, I've been puzzling over why shop mannequins are almost invariably crafted in such an inconsistent fashion. Shall I explain? Righty ho.

As the spectre above ably demonstrates, mannequins do not generally display a level of detail consistent with someone wanting to make them look more than vaguely human. To start with, they're either a gleaming Vaderesque ebony or this rather unpleasant zombie grey, neither of which are hues reminiscent of normal people or even of models. They are also lacking in convincingly human facial structure, with very much the best-case scenario being the unnerving and excessively-browed grimace above (cf Doctor Who's positively Neanderthal opponents the Autons, who actually have brow ridges and look like whitewashed clones of Stig of the Dump). The alternative is a featureless oval which irresistibly brings to mind the new Prime Minister.

All of this is fine. I do not expect mannequins to emulate the appearance of an actual human being, other than to whatever extent is necessary for them to have clothes conveniently draped over them. Malproportioned or undecorated heads, improbable colour schemes and occasionally being left in a window devoid of shirt, trousers or arms are all par for the course. What I don't understand is the nipples.

Look again at the photo above, and pay particular attention to the snug fit of the dummy's rather unattractive tank top. As in this case and in thousands of others, it is very rare to encounter a lady mannequin which isn't proudly gesturing skywards through whichever top or dress has been draped over it, its implausibly pert plastic breasts crowned with faintly threatening nipples frozen in a permanent state of dizzying arousal or chilliness. This drives me absolutely mad. Quite apart from the ecological indifference which is clearly demonstrated by our willingness to waste our finite oil reserves on plastic destined for pointless cosmetic teats, 'mannequin nipple syndrome' is simply another example of the incredibly insulting marketing ploys which we are forced to dodge every day in what is theoretically one of the most liberal and advanced societies on earth.

Mannequins are obviously not endowed with nipples in order to make them look more real - there are many more obvious areas to work on before minor anatomical inaccuracies become relevant, and in any event the uncanny valley effect demonstrates that it is actually not advisable for non-human models to too closely resemble us. Why, then, do the majority of plastic clothes-horses persist in being so damn perky?

I can think of two possible explanations, each as depressing as the other. Mannequins are uniformly tall and skinny, usually more so than could be healthily achieved by any normal woman (in fact, in 2007 the Spanish health ministry demanded that all shop dummies be made at a minimum of a size 10 to help combat body worries amongst female consumers). Could the nipples be simply an extension of this? They serve to accentuate the mannequin's unnaturally upright breasts, drawing the eye to just how perfectly the relevant garment hangs on its freakishly slender frame, and doing their level best to convince passing shoppers that this could be THE purchase, the one which finally exorcises any shred of low self-esteem and and lifts your ego as abruptly as the mannequin's nipples lift its significance. Given how frequently mannequins are used for display without having their arms attached, it seems that absurdly prominent nipples are genuinely considered more important (read: more likely to sway a purchase) than ensuring a mannequin has the standard complement of limbs.

The other explanation which springs to mind refers to men rather than women. Given the odd degree to which breasts and nipples have been sexualised and fetishised to a degree far outstripping their sexual relevance, men can reliably be drawn in by the promise of bralessness (cf every lads' mag and tabloid newspaper ever). Could it be that mannequin nipple syndrome is actually a device to get men more interested in clothes shopping? If every aspect of a mannequin bar the plastic nubs artfully deforming its coverings is ignored, I would not be in the slightest surprised to learn that men are more likely to buy their significant others outfits modelled by nippletastic dummies or find themselves happier to accompany their wives and girlfriends into shops where sexual provocation looms large on every plastic chest.

Isn't this just utterly spirit-crushing? As far as I can see it, a small but not wholly inconsequential proportion of our extraordinarily thin-spread natural resources are possibly being diverted to this sordid little game, in which the widespread objectification and idealisation of the female form is cynically manipulated to power the capitalist money machine. Men are taught to obsess over breasts and buttocks just as women are brought up to hate their own bodies, and then their conditioning is exploited through a dazzlingly unpleasant piece of doublethink - although we can rationally understand that shop mannequins are in no way representative of real human bodies (indeed, they are deliberately created to look alien, with their exaggerated or non-existent features and improbable colouring), we are able to subliminate that understanding in order to focus on their ridiculous nipples and think "gosh, if that blouse makes the featureless plastic doll look so pert maybe it'll do the same thing for me/my girlfriend".

During Winston's visit to the Ministry of Love, O'Brien tells him that "The sex instinct will be eradicated... We shall abolish the orgasm". However, the phenomenon of mannequin nipple syndrome is much more reminiscent of Huxley's dystopia than of Orwell's - the trick is not to remove pleasure from the equation, but make sure that nobody can conceive of indulging in it without some degree of financial outlay. In Brave New World, the Director of Hatcheries and Conditioning mentions that  in the dark and disorganised daysBefore Ford many games had involved no equipment more complex than a ball, some sticks and a bit of netting. "Imagine the folly of allowing people to play elaborate games which do nothing whatsoever to increase consumption. It's madness...". This trick has been perpetuated just as effectively in the modern marketplace - the only difference is that in our world the tools employed are fashion and men's magazines instead of hypnopaedia and conditioning, and the beneficiaries are Ann Summers and Simply Pleasure rather than the shadowy manufacturers of Electric Golf and Centrifugal Bumble-Puppy.

If both women and men believe (at whatever level of consciousness) that it is a modern woman's job to emulate the absurd and unhealthy physical characteristics of catwalk clotheshorses and glamour models, and that this is best achieved by buying into a fragile dream through which consumption becomes the key to achieving the image which society demands, I daren't think what the future holds. But when you're saving up to buy a nice pair of silicon implants for yourself or your girlfriend out of an inexplicable concern that breasts sitting naturally where they belong is in some way less attractive or appropriate than having them thrust painfully towards the heavens, keep an eye out for nipples in shop windows - and don't say I didn't warn you.