Antique Bliss Dollhouse With French Penny Toy Furniture

I've posted this early 1900s Bliss dollhouse before, but I just redecorated it with some antique French penny toy furniture and a German tin fireplace. It came out really well, so I thought it was worth a re-post. (The furniture and fireplace were part of a fantastic recent find: they came with a Tootsie Toy dollhouse, loaded with accessories, purchased from the original owner's family. More on that in an upcoming post...)

 The lithographed house is 11 1/2 inches tall, 

with a typical two-room interior.

It still has all of its original wall and floor papers.

The French-made metal furniture, dating from the 1920s, is in a small, mostly 1/2 inch scale, and includes a table, chair, bench, dressing table with gilt mirror, sewing machine, and two twin beds. The German tin fireplace, from the late 1900s-early '20s, still has its red foil "fire." A Cracker Jack prize clock rests on the mantle.

The beautiful baby carriage, another of the French penny toy pieces,  holds a Frozen Charlotte doll.

Vintage Barbie Display

My library is currently doing a "theme month," and the theme is Collecting. (Yes, I had a little input on this decision...) We're focusing on dolls and teddy bears, with a doll collecting club coming to talk about Barbie, and me giving a presentation on antique teddy bears (more on that later). This week I put in a display of vintage Barbie dolls in one of our cases. It's really hard to take pictures of this particular case because of its dimensions and location, but here are a few views.

 Ken and Allan kick back.

Ken and Barbie, about to enjoy some refreshing beverages.

 New and old Barbies.

A very sultry Bubblecut Barbie.

The official trade-in Barbie from 1967, with the new "twist n' turn" waist, bendy knees, and "real" eyelashes!

Mod era Barbies lounge about.

A peek at some of the vintage Barbie accessories.

1930s Playskool Pullman

About 25 years ago, when I first started collecting teddy bears, I saw an interesting antique toy mentioned in one of my reference books. In a chapter of hints for displaying miniature bears, the author had posed several tiny teddies in an old tin playset called the Playskool Pullman.

I had never heard of this toy, and I was immediately captivated. The tin Pullman car looked like a miniature suitcase from the outside, and measured 11 1/2 by 9 1/2 inches. A leather carrying handle allowed the owner to easily tote the Pullman along, perhaps on a real train trip. When opened, a miniature train car interior was revealed, complete with a porter's closet, fold-up berth with bedding, and a seating area of benches with a fold-down table. I was absolutely smitten: it was an amazing toy.

It also turned out to be an extremely rare toy. Designed by a preschool teacher in the late 1920s and made around 1930, the Playskool Pullman was reportedly only manufactured for a very brief time, perhaps only a year, before the Great Depression put a stop to the toy's production. For years and years, the Pullman eluded me. With the arrival of internet auctions, I finally saw a few, but the prices were high and the competition was fierce, due to the toy's rarity and crossover appeal to lots of different toy collectors: dollhouse lovers, toy train aficianados, tin toy fantatics, Playskool collectors. But finally, last year, I found one. The good news: it was cheap. The bad news: it looked like it had been sitting in a barn and slowly decomposing for the past 80 years. I bought it anyway, on the assumption that my mom could fix it. She did, and here it is:

Big Bear is running to catch the train, but it looks like he's too late.

Inside, the private compartment is home to 

three little Steiff bears.

The porter's closet on the left was originally intended to hold the mattresses and bedding, but most Pullman owners convert it into a bathroom, as I did with these antique German dollhouse pieces.

The top berth pulls down, revealing a cozy bed complete with 

sheets, blankets, and pillows. 

The littlest bear is tucked in for the night, 

falling asleep to the sound of the train clacking down the tracks.

For comparison, here's what the Pullman looked like when we got it:

Antique Photo: Tea Party with Mother (and Dollies)

I'm constantly on the lookout for old photos of children with toys, and it's always exciting to discover another one. I found this one last week in a box of rather forlorn scrapbook pages at an antique mall. Two sisters have been invited into mother's parlor for a little tea party, and they've brought their dollies:

The photo looks to be from the late 19teens to the early '20s, and has lots of interesting details: the mother's vintage dress and shoes, the girls' giant hair bows, the Arts & Crafts/Mission style furniture, the silver tea set, and, in the lower right corner, a miniature baby carriage full of dolls. Plus, if you look closely under the table, you'll see a crate that was set on end for the littlest girl's feet!

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!

Antique Dollhouse Doll and Friend

A recent find was this little German all-bisque dollhouse doll, circa the 1890s-early 1900s. Just 4 1/4 inches tall, she has an unruly blond mohair wig and one tiny eye slightly offset, which gives her a quirky charm. I think she looks like a Victorian child who's gotten away from her nanny, escaped the nursery, and been running wild through the house, throwing temper tantrums all the way.

Here she is with her new best friend, a 1920s Schuco miniature bear. Hopefully he can convince her to tidy up her hair and sit down quietly for a nice cup of tea:

Flagg Family Dollhouse Dolls in Original Box

It's funny how antiquing is sometimes: you can look for something for years without finding it, and then when you do finally find one, you seem to find them all over.

A couple of months ago, I wrote about a family of vintage dollhouse dolls made by the Flagg Company that I found at an outdoor antique show, buried in a box of junque. At the time, I had never come across any of these highly-sought Flagg dolls in all my years of collecting. Then, a couple of weeks later, I found two more (which I haven't yet posted, sorry), and then, last week, I hit the jackpot with this unplayed-with set still in its original package!

The box, cleverly designed to look like a house with the dolls peeking out the windows, measures 11 by 7 inches. The parents are about 4 inches tall, while the kids are 2 3/4 inches and the itty bitty baby (it's a boy!) is only 1 1/2 inches long.

The naively styled dolls are molded of a flexible vinyl and dressed in clothing made mostly of felt. The simply painted eyes give them a rather stunned expression, but that's part of their charm, I think. These date from the 1950s.

From the packaging:

Steiff Gnome

This month's gnome-a-thon wraps up with a character from Steiff: "Pucki," one of their small gnome figures, made in Germany in the late 1940s-early '50s.

Pucki is 5 inches tall to the top of his hat, and is made of a rubbery composition material over a wire frame, with felt clothing and a mohair beard. The rubber compo material tends to deteriorate over time, resulting in drying, stiffening, cracking, and breaking. Steiff made many similar gnomes around this time period, and even with their condition issues, they're still charming little guys.

The Eugene Gnome Family

One of my favorite vintage gnome items is also the only one with links to my childhood. I can remember seeing this family of gnome dolls advertised in the big Sears Christmas Wish Book back in the 1970s. I believe I actually tore the page out, circled the gnomes in thick, red marker, and included it with my letter to Santa, just to be sure he knew exactly what I wanted.

I can still remember going to bed every night that December, anxiously worrying about the gnomes: did Santa get my letter? Would he have enough of the gnome dolls in stock for all the children who would undoubtedly be asking for them that year? Would I pass muster on Santa's list, and be deemed worthy of said gnomes? Well, I must have had a pretty good year, because Santa dutifully brought them, and I played with them incessantly. My childhood gnomes didn't survive, unfortunately, but thanks to eBay, I have them back today.

Designed by the Eugene Doll Company of Brookyln, New York in 1979 and manufactured in "The British Crown Colony of Hong Kong," the 5-7 inch tall jointed gnomes are made of plastic with clothes of rather cheap synthetic materials. The clothes were embellished with stickers (a mushroom on the mom, a strawberry on the girl) that quickly fell off and were invariably lost (one of my eBay sets miraculously retains them). The Eugene Gnome Family was definitely not a high-end toy, but there was, and remains, something very captivating about these dolls. As a little girl, I absolutely treasured them, and I still do today.

The Eugene Gnomes were packaged in two different ways, a fact I was unaware of until I began hunting for them as an adult. The first variation is this display box, which is how the gnomes were sold in stores. It has some gnome folklore on the back, and suggests: "Keep them with you to lend a hand, to talk to, to pretend with, to have as friends. Invite the whole Gnome family -- they'd love to come."

The second packaging variant is this much smaller mailing box, which is how I remember my gnomes coming on Christmas Day as a child. There was no display box inside: the dolls were simply packed, loose, into this carton. This is how the gnomes were packaged for catalog sales, which is how the bulk of midwestern American Christmas toy shopping was done back in the 1970s. This dual packaging, one for stores, one for catalogs, was typical of many toys back then, but it can be puzzling if you're not aware of it, as I wasn't when I began my gnome hunt.

 It was like Christmas 1979 all over again the day this came.
Thank you, eBay!

Flagg Flexible Dollhouse Dolls

These homely little dolls may not look like much compared to the oh-so-chic mod Barbies of the previous post, but they have a charm all their own, as well as a wonderful history. (I learned most of this history from the fantastic book Dollhouse and Miniature Dolls, 1840-1990, by Marcie and Bob Tubbs.)

The little dollhouse family of four includes a mom and dad, just over 4 inches each, and a boy and girl, just under 3 inches. They're made of a solid, flexible vinyl over a wire armature, and feature naively handpainted features, hair, and shoes with felt and cotton clothing. The tiny dolls were made by the Flagg Doll Company in the 1950s.

The firm began in Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts, just after WWII. The founders, Sheila and Charles Flagg, met during the war while she worked in a factory and he served at the Navy ship yard. Sheila was the artistically creative side of the partnership, sculpting the dolls from soap, designing and sewing their clothes, and painting their hair and faces. Charles was the mechanically creative partner. He made the molds, created the special casting oven, designed a hydraulic press to cut out the clothing, and invented a stapler to affix the clothing to the dolls. He also handled the advertising and business end of things.

The family's children sometimes helped in the factory as well. The Tubbs report in their book that "daughters, Leslie and Penny, first painted toenails and fingernails on dolls before graduating to painting faces. Neither daughter was allowed to be a 'costumer' after Leslie stapled her finger on the foot powered machine. One person in the factory boxed dolls, a thankless and unpopular task, as it was difficult to place the feet in the pre-cut tab openings. The Flagg's youngest child, Charles III, was often the nominated 'boxer.'"

The Flagg's first dolls came out around 1947, and appealed not only to children but also to child psychologists, who used them in diagnostic play with their young patients. As dollhouse play declined in the 1970s and '80s, this clinical market became the Flagg's biggest customer.

Besides the standard dollhouse family, the Flagg Company offered a vast range of creatively themed dolls, such as storybook characters, professions (nurses, doctors, police officers, teachers), a wedding party, nuns, Pilgrims, household domestic staff, and countless more.

Profitability became an issue as cheap import toys began flooding the American market in the 1970s and '80s, and the company, after being sold following Charles' death, finally closed in 1985.

The charming little dolls, with their rich history as part of one of the last American family-owned and run toy companies, are a precious addition to any collection. I was thrilled to find my set in a box of bargain priced "junque" at a local sale. Even in their well loved and played with condition, they're still tiny treasures.

Mod Barbie Fashion Find

Mod-era Barbie clothes are just fantastic things, reflecting the daring, day-glo designs of their time (1967-1972). The individual outfits were given creative names by their designers, like "Maxi 'n Mini," "Knit Hit," and "Velvet Venture." They are also fragile things, made of glittery metallic and foiled fabric, velveteen, vinyl, and synthetic fur. These two factors combine to make mod-era Barbie fashions desirable, scarce, and costly. I've not been willing to pay the extortion-level prices usually asked for such pieces, and so my mod Barbies have sadly remained naked. Until now.

 While browsing some sales late last week, I stumbled upon a "bargain box" full of modern (1990s-2000s) Barbies. I was going to pass over them, as modern Barbies don't interest me much...but then I thought I better take a closer look at the box "just in case."

Well, it's a good thing I did: the contemporary Barbies were all clothed in original 1960s mod-era fashions, including some of the most highly sought Barbie clothes out there. Each doll was priced at $2.00, and at the bottom of the box was a plastic baggie filled with more mod pieces, the whole bag labelled $3.00. The score was about $250.00 worth of vintage Barbie clothes for $9.00!

 In the bag were the sleeveless minidresses "Knit Hit" & "Togetherness" (upper right), Francie's far-out and furry turquoise corduroy poncho (center), and 2 pieces from Sears' exclusive "Glamour Group" (bottom right), as well as a cool bowling bag and some vintage shoes.

The bag also included a couple of "mommy-made" pieces (top, left and right: stripey dress and yellow sweater/floral skirt ensemble).

After I recovered from my swoon, I rushed the Barbies home, where they were stripped and given to a friend who likes the new dolls. The vintage clothes were gleefully adopted by my mod Barbies, who model them below.

My blond Hair Fair Barbie sports the fabulous, and rarely found, "Maxi 'n Mini," a turquoise foiled maxi coat with a metallic striped mini dress. This outfit originally came with matching thigh-high boots, which were incredibly fragile and seldom survived. 

 

Check out that fab faux fur collar!

My blond TNT (Twist 'n Turn) Barbie models the coat from "Velvet Venture," a cool pale green plush with gold braid trim.

My brunette Hair Fair Barbie showcases one of the mod-era's day-glo outfits, which was named "Hurray for Leather" by Mattel designers who were apparently unaware of the naughty allusions this title could stir up amongst a certain group of sex fetishists. Unfortunate naming aside, this is one of the coolest of the mod fashions, consisting of a leather-look yellow vinyl miniskirt with day-glo orange shag trim that matches the sweater, completed with yellow "pilgrim" shoes.

She's ready for a night of go-go dancing...

My mod Barbies are thrilled with their extensive new (and cheap!) wardrobe.

To see lots more mod Barbie fashions, check out Carnaby Street at modcolors.com.

Miniature Pressed Tin Tea Set

Although I don't like tea, I am strangely obsessed with tiny tea sets. Children's, doll's, or dollhouse sized, I collect them all. My latest find was this pressed tin set, made as a doll accessory in the late 1800s/early 1900s, probably in England. The tray is 4 3/4 inches long, the teapot is 2 1/2 inches tall, and the cups are an inch in diameter, not counting the handles. These pictures really don't do it justice; it's an incredibly beautiful, fragile little thing.

Below, my 10 inch German bisque doll has added it to her china cupboard (made long ago from an antique clock case):

Antique Dollhouse Doll

I'm always happy to add another antique dollhouse doll to my collection. They're rather addictive, and their diminutive size makes them easily (though not cheaply!) collectible. My latest find was this 5 inch tall china head, wearing her original, and very lovely, Turkey Red embroidered dress. The tiny German-made doll dates from the late 1800s.

Her simple face painting still manages to convey a gentle, bemused expression, and her rosy cheeks make her look as if she's blushing. What is she thinking about, I wonder?

Here she is in front of her new home, a circa 1900 lithographed paper dollhouse:

She loves to cook, but she should really have an apron on over that beautiful dress!