1890s German Dollhouse Pastry Shop: A Restoration Project

If you've followed the blog for awhile, you'll  know that I have a thing for antique dollhouse shops. One of the variations I've most longed for was a large-scale, ornate style German model, but when seen, these rare toys were usually priced far out of my price range. 

But then I found this, a big 1890s-early 1900s German dollhouse pastry shop or confectioner's, measuring 23 inches wide and 13 inches tall. As is the case with many old German miniature shops, it had suffered poorly done but well intentioned updates and repairs over the course of its long life.

 In her wonderful book, Doll Kitchens, German author Eva Stille explains that toy kitchens (and by extension their companion pieces, these shops) would be brought down from the attic each Christmastime by parents who would freshen them up with more grocery supplies, a new pie plate or two, and a bright new coat of paint. All winter, the shops and kitchens would entertain the family's children, until, with the warming spring weather, the toys, now depleted of provisions, temporarily lost their interest. They would be packed back up and returned to the attic, as the children moved their play outdoors, only to be brought back down once more, refreshened, and placed under the tree again the next Christmas.

These toys were usually passed down through several generations: Stille gives an example of an 1885 doll kitchen ordered by a wealthy family in Bregenz. The toy was passed down among girls in the family all the way to 1979, when it was bequeathed to the most recent descendant, who was still playing with it at the time of the book's publication in 1988. I've purchased three different antique German dollhouse shops, and each has had evidence of continuous play through at least two generations, with products dating from as early as the 1900s to as late as the 1950s.

This shop last went through a renovation sometime in the 1930s or early '40s. The original dark red stain, particular to many German dollhouse toys of the early 1900s, had been heavily painted over (sloppily) in green and cream kitchen paint, and the remains of the original paper "wood parquet" floor had been covered with linoleum. Bits of trim had broken off, and been reglued or lost. One decorative front pillar was gone, along with the counter. The lovely, handpainted wallpaper was brittle, stained, and torn, and a modern mirror had been installed along the back wall. An electrified Bakelite doorbell had been screwed in, and to finish off the list of indignities suffered by this once grand toy, an infestation of woodworm had occurred.

But large swathes of the original red stain were visible underneath the shelves, and much of the trim remained, as did the drawers with most of their porcelain nameplates, tiny handles, and the matching jars. I loved the idea that it appeared to be a pastry shop or something similar, as one of my most fanatical collecting categories is antique dollhouse cakes.

The price was (relatively) low, due to the condition, and my mother, even though she had never done a dollhouse restoration before, was sure she could handle it. And she did. 

First, everything had to be pulled off and out. (My mother recommended I not watch this part, and I agreed. This step was pretty scary.)

Then, the paint had to be stripped, and all the old repairs disassembled.

At this point, we discovered a stamp and some writing on the underside of the shop, but have been unable to decipher them:

I wish I knew what this said...

 I found a replacement counter, and my mom fabricated the missing front pillar and bits of trim. Then she matched the original, heavily varnished red stain finish almost exactly and reassembled the shop shelves.

 Gluing in process.

Finally, we deliberated over the replacement papers. We weren't able to find the same patterns, but when we saw this combination, it just seemed perfect. The papers are reproductions of antique originals, the closest we could get to the real thing.

 Paper installation underway.

And here's the finished shop:

Loaded up with cakes, pies, baking accessories, and a shopkeeper, too:

 Here's a closeup of the lovely shopkeeper. She carries a big spoon, all ready for customers who would like a sample of the many pudding cakes on display:

 All but one of the drawers still have their original porcelain labels. Some are identifiable (cocoa, bonbons, chocolate) while others aren't, at least to me (geh Aepfel? Bucker?) 

 Here are closeups of some of the antique German made cakes, and the very old compote full of wax fruit:

 This tiny cake has "Germany" stamped into one side.

Some of the little accessories include grocery boxes, a tin plate, a copper bowl, and a cake mold:

Here, one of my favorite miniature dollies tries to decide which treat to buy:

What Was In Tracy's Stocking?

Stocking stuffers are one of my very favorite Christmas traditions. The sight of a Christmas stocking bulging with mysterious small objects just makes my heart go pitter-patter. As miniature collectors know, very great things indeed can come in small packages, and this year Santa outdid himself.

My stocking held a couple of vintage 1940s MinToy dollhouse miniatures in their original packaging (a set of kitchen knives and a box of silverware); old dollhouse cakes; a 1920s-'30s Austrian-made celluloid dolly in a peanut; part of an antique miniature German teaset; a 1920s-'30s Old Maid card game; and a huge assortment of 1920s and '30s joke boxes. If you were reading the blog back on last April Fool's Day, you'll know that I have a passion for vintage pranks and jokes. I'm going to wait until this April to post the joke boxes properly, but here's everything else:

MinToy was a Chicago based manufacturer of dollhouse miniatures in the 1940s-'50s. Their motto was "The Big House of Little Things," and they made very nice things indeed. This carded set of kitchen utensils measures  4 1/2 inches, while the itty bitty box of silverware is just 2 1/8  inches.

Little dollies in peanut shaped molded cardboard containers were a mini-fad in the 1920s and '30s. This Austrian-made version features a celluloid doll with her original glass baby bottle. The peanut is 4 inches long.

This partial German dolly's tea set just delighted me. I love the colorful stripes, reminiscent of a circus tent. Circa the early 1900s-'20s, the teacups are 1 inch in diameter.

This Old Maid card game dates from the 1920s-'30s. It features fantastic caricature art: click on the photo to see the cards in more detail.

Lastly, a lot of wonderful old dollhouse cakes, dating between 1920-1960. Why all these dollhouse cakes? Because my biggest gift this year was an 1890s German dollhouse pastry shop or confectioner's. It needs a complete restoration, and then these cakes will fill its empty shelves...pictures to follow once it's all done!

Vintage American Dollhouse Grocery Shop

For Christmas this year, I received a couple of old dollhouse shops, the circa 1900 German example described earlier, and this, a 1950s American model of the "modern" grocery store. Measuring a full two feet wide, it's made of wood and fibreboard, and came filled with many of its original products along with its cash register, check out counter, meat counter, and striped awning.

This overhead view gives an idea of the store's layout:

Through the window, the checkout and dairy cooler are visible:

The meat counter features hanging hams, made of flat fiberboard with printed detail:

Most of the products are made of wood, wrapped with paper labels. I'm especially intrigued by the "Snappy Brand Cheese" in a can: whatever was this like?!

Antique German Dollhouse General Store

One of my most spectacular Christmas gifts this year was this antique German dollhouse shop, a general store circa 1900, measuring 18 inches wide. It has its original counter, tin cash register, drawers with tin labels (written in English for the American and British markets), floor paper, wallpaper border, and many old products and accessories.

 The shop came with an assortment of antique German-made cakes and pies, including a very appropriate Christmas pudding trimmed with holly:

It was also loaded with lots of old miniature packages; a sampling is shown below. Who wouldn't like a box of Nirvana? I didn't know we could buy such a metaphysical concept, and so neatly packaged too. (Oh, one of my German friends has just informed me this was likely a coffee brand...)

The tin cash register is a wonderful piece. Looks like the shopkeeper is getting ready to ring up a basket of eggs:

Another great old piece is this tiny bird cage, made of pressed and painted tin, with an itty-bitty bird inside:

The shop also came with a wonderful old mop, useful for cleaning up spills from the dry goods drawers...

...and a tin scoop and pan:

My old Clark & Coats Company paper doll seems to fit perfectly behind the counter of this warm and cozy shop:

Vintage Dollhouse Groceries

I have a large collection of antique and vintage dollhouse shops, so I'm always on the lookout for products to stock them with. At an antique show last weekend, I spotted these 1940s-50s American-made groceries. Constructed of paper-wrapped wooden blocks, the tallest is 1 1/2 inches tall.

Here they are on the shelves of a 10 inch tall dollhouse grocery store from the same period:

Antique Dollhouse Toast Rack

Last week I scored an antique dollhouse miniature that I've coveted for a long time, but I could never bring myself to pay its hefty asking prices. It's a tiny toast rack, complete with four slices of toast, made in Germany by Gerlach from 1915 through the 1920s.

 My 5 inch china doll has added the toast rack to her breakfast table.

The rack is made of a soft metal and the toast is a composition-type material. It's incredibly fragile and very beautiful.

It's an irony of miniature collecting that sometimes the smallest things have the highest prices. This tiny object, only an inch and a quarter tall, usually comes with a three-figure price tag! The only examples I've seen in the two years I've been looking were priced at $135 and $110, which are typical for this piece. I resisted these offerings, firmly telling myself there was no way I was going to spend $135 on an inch tall toast rack, and am I ever glad I did, because the one I found last week was somehow unknowingly priced at only $14.99! Sometimes, the toy collecting gods smile upon us, and things like this happen...thank you, toy gods, thank you.

Antique Dollhouse Food

My very favorite type of dollhouse miniature is antique dollhouse food. I actually collected dollhouse food long before I collected dollhouses, dolls, or furniture.

I think my interest in miniature foods goes back to seeing the illustrations in Beatrix Potter's 1904 book, The Tale of Two Bad Mice. In the story, two mice break into a dollhouse and attempt to eat the scrumptious looking dinner laid out on the table. When they discover the food is made of plaster and glued to the plates, they smash it to bits in frustration and then go on a destructive rampage as they burglarize the house. The dollies, upon returning home, immediately engage a Steiff policeman doll to watch over their residence.

I've always found the illustrations of the dollhouse food in The Tale of Two Bad Mice to be charming and captivating:

and I was thrilled last year to find an antique dollhouse ham very like the one in the illustration (German, circa the 1900s):

My oldest piece of dollhouse food is this tiny ham shown below, about 1 1/4 inch wide, made of a papier-mache-like substance on a pressed paper plate. It came from Germany in the mid 1800s. It's not pretty, but it's old, and it's amazing to me how something so small and fragile has survived:

 My very best sets of antique miniature food are these two, made in France in the 1880s. The items are painted plaster, in a scale a bit larger than 1" to 1 foot; I think they may have been meant for dolls rather than dollhouses. They are unplayed with; in fact, most of the pieces are still tied down with their original twine. The boxes feature beautifully lithographed labels with scenes of little bakers cooking (and drinking!) and children dining.

 

I love the old stove in this image, and the

oversized frying pan on the burner.

That's some giant omelet they're making!

And this image has so much to appreciate: the lovely cupboard on the right; the gorgeously upholstered chairs; the children's clothing; the finely detailed dishes and embroidered tablecloth...

And here's what's inside: beautiful miniature play food, some recognizable to me (those hams again!) some not (that flat pink and white thing in the upper left corner. Maybe it's some sort of French regional specialty):

Here are the items in profile, to give a sense of their proportions. The pieces average between 2 and 3 inches long:

And some detail close-ups:

A very fancy ham.

A fishy entree.

A ham (again), lobster, what looks like eggs in a salad....but I'm not sure what that is in the upper right. Maybe a fruitcake?

For some reason (perhaps the Beatrix Potter influence again) I prefer the primitive style of these old pieces to our modern hyper-realistic dollhouse food. Even though today's amazingly crafted pieces look so authentic, these crude-by comparison miniatures have a special charm of their own. And, after all, they fooled the mice in the story, so they must look real enough!