click away now, it's a giant post on dolls

I hardly ever look in the mirror - I just go about my business.
But the other day, I glanced over my shoulder and looked at my hair and decided that I looked exactly like the first doll I remember having.
Chatty Cathy.

Truly.
I had those little bangs.
And the color was remarkably similar.
So - what I decided to do was: go find a photo of Chatty Cathy to show to you.
I found this one too -

Cathy in bermuda shorts - if you will...

Of course, this searching for Chatty Cathy pictures started me thinking...(cue dream music and soft focus) what other dolls did I have?

I loved dolls. LOVED THEM.
I had baby dolls -

This Thumbelina had a pull string that made her, um, writhe.
My friend Jane and I spent hours feeding our Thumbelinas cold cream (as in: the stuff our mothers put on their faces to remove make-up) on small spoons. We weren't stupid either, realizing that our dolls were too small for real babies we told each other that they were preemies and therefore needed extra attention.

I had this doll too -

she was called Velvet, which is just the stupidest name for a doll in the world.
She had a knob on her back, which when turned would wind her hair up inside her body.
A button on her hard plastic body released the hair so that it could be pulled out of her head to the desired length. I found her annoying. First of all, there were not a lot of clothes for her - and what could one pretend she was? Too large for a "fashion doll," too small to be my child, she was in the dead zone of dolls. And the hair?
Terribly annoying when short and ridiculous when long (down to her feet).

I had lots of other dolls - gorgeous baby dolls from fancy toy shops and a couple of precious china dolls.
I never much cared for those Madame Alexander dolls. I was pretty young when I discovered that they all had the same molded head that varying hair and eye colors were added to and felt cheated.
I also had an international doll collection - which I loved, but didn't really play with. Any time friends or relatives traveled overseas they would bring me a doll in a national costume - I so clearly remember the Spanish one that my aunt brought me with her silky dress and mantilla...

When I was about eight, I fell in LOVE with Liddle Kiddles.

This is what they were supposed to look like. Each had a theme and very cute tiny accessories.
It's not easy to find photos of them - I suppose they were too small to survive all these years, but they were so collectible that I am a little surprised that Mattel didn't re-issue them.

GAH!
I can remember what they smelled like! (freak)
I'm sure my parents bought me each and every one.
I even owned the spin-off alien versions...

I can distinctly recall the feel of this one -
and the face of this one.

I know for a fact that it was difficult to use these in my imaginative play -
they could not be babies and I always hated the martian in the Flintstones (a very stupid plot device that nearly insulted my sensibilities). And I am quite positive that I discarded the stupid space ships pretty quickly after acquiring the dolls.
Kiddles came in wee soda bottles for a time, and perfume bottles with scent on them as well as in versions that were only about an inch high and locked in jewelry.
I spent hours playing with them.

But it all just lead right up to the ultimate.
The perfect doll.
Barbie.
Although, looking back, and laughing, Barbie herself was not my favorite.
And WHY?
She was too busty for me (and, sadly, eventually, I would be too busty too).
Plus I could not get myself used to her FEET. They were stuck in high heel position, and you know, I like comfy yet attractive shoes.
So I really gravitated toward Francie. And Twiggy.

And, believe it or not, a Stacie head on a Francie body. Francie, you see, was supposed to be an older teen and so, as such, she had a smaller chest and was flat footed.
I spent years playing with these dolls and their clothes.
And THEIR HOUSE.

Their cardboard house.
Which I was delighted to see photos of on eBay, of course.

It was pretty big - that's Ken's barbecue in the back...

In a feat of paper engineering, it opened into a couple of rooms - with a patio out back.
The sliding door was a bit tricky, but one could stand their doll at it and get down on the floor and it all looked so REAL.

Most of the rooms and furniture were pink. But in those days, Barbie was still permitted some other colors to be within her realm.

I loved those shutters, but I think I remember that the couch was difficult for Stacie to sit on.
This house was just the ultimate toy for me.
I constructed lives and wardrobes and stories that I can still recall.
I played with Caroline, who lived down the street. And who, I realized at the tender age of six or seven, had the most beautiful blonde hair and the straightest thinnest most perfect legs. My thighs touched. I knew it then.
There were other "Barbie Dream Houses" over the years.
But none were as wonderful as this one.
And I really believe that I knew then, at six, that I wanted most to do what I am doing now.
Forty years later.