Today, Ronni was a toy. A ballerina toy in a costume of white frills, puffy sleeves, and an oversized bow on her head. She had a bright smile, big glittering eyes, and circles on her cheeks. Of course, she had a tutu with pink layers and a frosting white top. Her friend Abby thought it made Ronni “look like a cupcake,” an image which delighted the ballerina.
They moved through a mostly quiet mall concourse, Ronni walking behind on pointe slippers that she hadn’t been allowed to break in. It was an uncomfortable walk, but as a dancer, Ronni knew how to work past discomfort. Abby had gone studiously quiet while she checked and played with her camera, the whole point of this excursion.
Abby had gotten idea for this photoshoot three months ago, imagining Ronni as a toy in various settings. They had already finished shoots in Ronni’s attic and in Abby’s sister’s room. But Abby was adamant to get some pictures of the ballerina doll on a toy store shelf,