Vintage Allan Doll

Found at the same time as the mod doll case in the previous post (in fact, it was found in the mod doll case) was this vintage Allan doll, companion to Barbie's friend Midge. (I don't have a Midge, so we pretend my Allan has eloped with my Barbie instead.)

Allan was initially only made for a couple of years, from 1964-1966, but this one managed to amass quite a wardrobe in that time.

He's got swimwear (including a snorkel, mask, and fins), tennis togs and shoes, a letterman sweater, jeans, khakis, bermuda shorts, a bowling shirt, polka dotted boxers, pinstriped pajamas, and loads more. Some of my favorite pieces are shown below:

I especially like the two-tone shoes
and the stripey socks!











Allan came in his original outfit of blue swim trunks, striped beach jacket, and cork-soled sandals:

Here he models for us his color coordination skills:

 Stylin'!

Mod Doll Case & Vintage Dawn Dolls

I found this unusual mod-era doll case the other day. It's a generic case, not affiliated with any particular doll line, but it has great mod fashion illustrations on the front, all done in electric lemon yellow and hot pink.

It's the perfect home for my set of vintage Dawn dolls, made by Topper Toys from 1970-1972. The Dawn dolls were tiny, only 6 inches tall, and featured "real" eyelashes, groovy, glittery clothes, and lotsa makeup. My Dawn dolls came to me from teddy bear artist extraordinaire Peng Peng, who very kindly thought of me as she was de-stashing them (thanks, PP!)

(I suspect the second doll from the right is a special edition "streetwalker Dawn," or possibly "I've run away from home and become a go-go dancer" Dawn...)

 Here's the standard Dawn herself, in all her spangly fuschia glory:

And here's her friend, Jessica, who's a bit less flower-child-like:

For a size comparison, here are the Dawn dolls with a mod-era Barbie. It's like a scene from that old "Land of the Giants" TV show:

Little Women

Yesterday I found this set of five little late 1800s Frozen Charlotte dolls at an antique store. They're wearing very old dresses, handmade by a young owner long ago.

They're each just 2 3/4 inches tall, which makes them the perfect size for my latest dollhouse. Here they are, loitering on the front porch:

For a sense of scale, here they are nestled in a child's antique teacup:

Church Rummage Sale Finds: Vintage Barbie and Board Game

A local church had its annual summer festival this past weekend, and it included a rummage/jumble/white elephant sale. A lot of collectors have given up on these sorts of sales, in the belief that things like eBay and the Antiques Road Show have resulted in a much more antiques-savvy public, who know better than to donate valuable items to be sold for pennies. But I optimistically persevere, and am occasionally rewarded with a treasure. Or, in this case, two treasures. Amongst the miles of tables full of household detritus, I finally spotted:

1) Why: the Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Game from 1958:  complete and in fantastic condition. Price: .75 cents!!! This is a much-sought vintage game that typically sells in the $45-$65 range, with appeal for TV, movie, horror, toy, and board game collectors.

2) a 1963 Barbie Fashion Queen doll, with two of her three original wigs, also in great condition. Price: $5.00!!! This Fashion Queen would normally retail for about $50-70.

I gleefully scooped them both up and raced for the checkout, where a smiling little old church lady took my $5.75. For a moment, I felt a pang of guilt and thought, "should I tell her what these are and how they should be priced?" But I didn't. I am SO going to hell....

Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Game, Why, is basically a paranormal version of Clue, the classic detective game. The premise is that Alfred's mansion, depicted on the wonderfully illustrated game board, is haunted by several ghosts, and he's hired four famous detectives, one of whom is played by you, to determine how and why the ghosts were murdered. 

The detectives are clever spoofs of famous mystery icons like Sherlock Holmes and Dick Tracy:

The Fashion Queen Barbie was an unusual entry in the legendary doll line. Instead of rooted hair, she featured a molded 'do, and came with three wigs in differing colors and styles so her young owner could change her looks. Unfortunately, the materials in the wigs and head reacted badly to each other over time, resulting in chemical melt marks to the doll's cranium if the wigs were left in place for an extended period. This makes finding a Fashion Queen in good condition a bit trickier than one might expect. My rummage sale find is amazingly and delightfully melt mark free.

Here she is as found, with her two wigs:

Here she is with her brunette flip:

And with her red bubble cut:

 Barbie is dressed for church...

Vintage Doll Glider Swing

I found this doll glider at an outdoor antique show last weekend, and couldn't wait to get it home and load it up with dolls and bears. It measures about 14 inches tall, and was probably made in the 1950s. Below, a 1900s German bisque doll and two 1920s American teddies enjoy a swing on the lawn.

Antique Doll Trunk

I found this small lithographed wooden doll trunk at an antique show last weekend, and even though it's in rather rough condition, it still charmed me. It's an appealing size, measuring only about 10 inches wide, and appears to have been an advertising premium from the Brantford Starch Company of Brantford, Ontario, Canada.

I've loaded it up for display with an antique children's tea set 

and a tiny china doll.

Freaky Marx Dollhouse Family

I found this family of vintage dollhouse dolls in their original box while antiquing for my birthday last weekend. They were made by the Marx Company in the early 1960s, and have plastic heads, hands, and shoes on poseable wire bodies with felt clothing. The children are about three inches tall, the parents five.

They're really not terribly attractive dolls, and they're also not nearly as old as most of the dollhouse pieces I usually collect. But here's why I bought them: their faces. Fast, haphazard painting by a factory line employee in Hong Kong has unintentionally resulted in crazy expressions. Mom looks like she's smelled something bad, and dad looks...well, I can't quite place his expression. Chagrin? Discomfort? A guilty conscience? The sudden realization that he left the toilet seat up? Stunned disbelief at learning the swaddled baby isn't his? Who knows, but it's definitely amusing.

Meanwhile, brother's expression can only be described as "shifty", as he glances toward his innocent little sister, malice clearly apparent in his cold, beady eyes:

Antique Bisque Doll Head

My sister is a minimalist, and doesn't share my appreciation for antiques, which she disdainfully refers to as "a bunch of old junk." For my recent birthday, I took myself on an antiquing shopping spree, and my sister later asked me what I found. "Ooooh: an absolutely fantastic broken old doll head," I replied, beaming over the beautifully sculpted and painted bisque head, circa the 1880s. My sister looked at me scornfully, and said, "You bought a broken doll head?" Yes. I did. But just look at her: she's beautiful! And technically speaking, it's only her shoulderplate that's broken...

Schoenhut Dollhouse

One of my birthday gifts this year was a 1930s Schoenhut dollhouse, made of wood and fibreboard with teeny tiny green shutters and printed "wooden" floor coverings. It's a very petite little house, only 10 1/2 inches tall. The roof is a bit crumbly and saggy, but it's still there, along with the often-missing original door.

I've fitted it out with 1/2 inch scale 1920s - 1930s Tootsie Toy furniture and the tiniest dollhouse food I've ever seen, made in England by Dol-Toi. Each plate is just 1/2 an inch wide, and the food, obviously, is even smaller.

Inhabiting the house are a 1920s German dollhouse couple, only 3 1/2 inches tall. They look ready for an evening on the town (or my birthday party).

I think the Mrs. doll was actually meant to be a maid, and that's a maid's cap on her head. But she arrived sans clothes, so I can't be sure. I'm pretending she's wearing a chic 1920s head wrap, instead. Either that, or we pretend she was the maid, but she ran off with the man of the house, seen below, and this is their secret rendevous country cottage.

Antique Wax Doll with Provenance

One of my birthday gifts this year was another lot with provenance, similar to my teddy bear find from a few months ago. I love receiving toys like this, those that come with pieces of their associated history. Handling such a toy is a very moving experience, as you actually see the now long-gone child who first held the toy so many years ago.

This lot is comprised of a baby doll who came with many pieces of clothing made just for her, and a photo of her original owner and their house. The doll dates from the late 1800s, and is a 14 inch cloth doll with a very worn wax face. She was clearly much beloved by her original owner's family, who patched and repatched  her, and kept her things together for so long.

The doll was, I am told, chosen for her original owner because of the resemblance she had to the little girl. Even in its worn condition, the similarity is still eerily apparent:

If you look closely at the picture of the owner's house, you'll see a lady in Victorian dress on the porch. Maybe she's the one who bought and dressed the doll, so long ago...

1910 Star Novelty Company Doll Furniture

As part of last weekend's dollhouse rearranging project, I also spent some time working on some larger furniture that is, sadly, homeless. The scale is so big (1 1/2") that it's all sized more for a small doll instead of a dollhouse. The set was made around 1910 by the Star Novelty Company of Cincinnati, Ohio. Fashioned of oak, the pieces feature details like leatherette seats on the chairs, a mirror on the buffet, and dresden-paper like trim on the china cabinet shelf. The tallest piece, the buffet, measures 8 inches tall. Below, an old German doll and 1920s Schuco miniature bear find the set to be just their size.

The dolly is clearly thinking, "how wonderful Tracy is: 

she bought all this just for me!"

Now she's wondering if she can sneak an apple out of the fruit display without it all tumbling down.

Tea for two. Bear hopes there's honey...

"Don't worry: I'll bring the cake over. 

I can just reach it, if I stand on my toes..."

1890s Dunham's Cocoanut Dollhouse

(This post is especially for Norma, who requested more pictures of my dollhouses!)

When I first started collecting dollhouses and miniatures, one of the pieces I most longed for was the Dunham's Cocoanut Dollhouse, made in America in the 1890s. The odd name belies its origins: the house was originally a packing crate for Dunham's Cocoanut, a shredded confection used for baking, particularly as a cake topping. The 28 inch tall crate originally would have held several boxes of this shredded coconut product, and the house served as an advertising premium.

It's believed the crates arrived in stores already papered inside, ready to be converted into a dollhouse once they were emptied and stood on end. The lithographed floor and wall papers are awash with details, including rugs, tile, and loads of Victorian bric a brac like potted ferns, pianos, paintings, shelves, china cabinets, even a taxidermied moose head and an aquarium full of fish. And, lest we forget this house was essentially a marketing device, the cupboard lithographed on a kitchen wall is stocked full of tiny Dunham's Cocoanut boxes!

The outside of the crate has impressed bricks and windows on each side, and is stamped "Dunham's Cocoanut Dollhouse" on both ends. No one is really sure how the houses were distributed after the coconut was sold, and they are hard to find today. Considering their original purpose, most remaining examples are in rough shape now, with water staining, torn and missing paper, and a prominent crack down the back, caused by the joining of the two planks used to fashion the crate's bottom.  Even so, the house, with its fantastically detailed wallpapers, is a treasure, providing a peek into late Victorian domestic life.

It's also an outstanding example of a very early marketing premium. Besides the house itself, children could send away for individual cardboard pieces of furniture, each emblazoned with the Dunham's logo. You would have had to really like shredded coconut in order to acquire enough pieces to completely furnish the house! This furniture is now exceedingly rare: I've only ever seen one set, and it was in a museum. Consequently, lucky Dunham's house owners fit out their homes with whatever they can find that seems suitable. Mine features a mix of old pieces, including early 1900s German bedroom, dining, and parlor sets, and an American stove and icebox from the 1920s and '30s, along with some other odds and ends. The tour commences below.

The top floor of the house is a bedroom, complete with lace curtained windows. A 4 inch Limbach doll plays with her toys on the floor, next to her German bed with its original coverlet, and a matching wardrobe complete with clothes pegs and a mirrored door.

Down one floor we find the parlor, where a German dollhouse father relaxes on the sofa with his newspapers. The piano is on the wallpaper in the back left corner. The fruit compote dish in this corner is very old and also German made.

Next is the dining room, with the most wonderfully detailed wallpapers in the house: this is where we find the moose head and aquarium. The buffet, table, and chairs are from the same 1900s German set as the bed and wardrobe. I had a lot of fun laying out the breakfast foods and dishes and setting out the tea things on the buffet. The tiny tin trunk is actually a British candy container, which I've filled with extra dishes.

At the bottom of the house is the kitchen. The stove and icebox are American made, and I love the icebox, which came complete with its original glass "ice block". The copper tea kettle on the stove is Dutch. This is the room with the wallpaper cupboard holding the boxes of Dunham's Cocoanut.

I hope you've enjoyed this visit to my Dunham's Cocoanut Dollhouse!