Antiquing Trip to England: Day Two, Henley-on-Thames

Our antiquing tour of England officially began with a visit to the beautiful town of Henley-on-Thames, situated, as its name suggests, along the famous river. Crossing the 18th century bridge into town, we saw a classic English narrowboat, one of the beautifully decorated houseboats that ply the waterways of Great Britain.

Our first stop in Henley was also our first teddy bear shop, Asquiths, housed in a marvelously preserved 15th century building. The display windows left no doubt as to the type of merchandise inside:

Teddy bears galore filled shelves, cupboards, and tables inside, and comical reminders to mind your head on the low, heavily beamed ceilings abounded:

See the plush yellow duck above the "Duck" warning?

Asquiths stocked mainly contemporary 

and artisan teddy bears, and I chose 

a small one crafted by a British couple, 

complete with hand-knit accessories 

and a wonderfully eccentric face:

The owners of Asquiths served us tea and pastries in their private apartment upstairs, which was delightful. And, we got to see their invitation to an upcoming garden party hosted by the Queen! I guess you could say we had tea with someone who is going to have tea with the Queen. That must count for something...

After Asquiths, it was on to my very first antique shop, the appropriately named Tudor House, in a building that was actually from the Tudor period. A sign on the front stated the house was built during the reign of Queen Elizabeth I, between 1560 and 1601! It was so marvelously old and looked so deliciously inviting, I would have willingly paid just to go inside...

Like Asquiths and all the other buildings we saw from this period, the ceilings were very low, made even lower in places by the heavy, blackened beams. This shop was so crowded with junque inside, it was almost impossible to hold the camera far enough in front of myself to take photos! Baskets, copper pots, and stoneware hung from the ceiling, and huge display cases filled the already tiny and cramped rooms. We had to weave our way through, occasionally backing up and onto the sidewalk so that people already inside the shop could make their way out. The second floor was a bit more open, and had very interesting architectural features:

Deep in one of the glass cases, I found these 3 tiny German bisque dolls, circa 1920: two dollhouse babies, just 2 and 3/4 inches tall, and a slightly larger standing one. Cute, cute, cute. 

After this, we visited several stores of a type plentiful in Britain, but not so familiar here in the States: Charity Shops. The UK has loads of charities devoted to various causes, and many of them raise funds by selling donated items in these storefronts. The merchandise is cleaned and professionally arranged, and the stores are often so nice, you almost forget they're second-hand shops. Here are a few we spotted over the tour:

Charity Shops are great places for treasure hunting at bargain prices, and I wasn't disappointed. In my very first one here in Henley, I all but stumbled over a 1930s English dollhouse sitting on the floor right inside the door. It had been lovingly played with over two generations: some of the rooms had been repapered in the early 1960s, and the furnishings were a mix of 1930s German and 1950s-60s British. Most likely, a mother passed it down to her daughter, and they played with it together, giving the dollhouse a wonderful history.

Carrying the dollhouse to the bus.

An English dollhouse had been at the very top of my trip wish list, and after some estimated on-the-spot weighing and measuring, it was purchased and carried down the street back to our waiting coach. And thankfully, it did indeed fit in my largest suitcase, and didn't make it overweight. It was an antiquing miracle.

The really neat thing about this dollhouse was, we saw many very similar real houses on our travels throughout England. Finding it was like getting to take a little piece of England home with me. 

The oldest piece of furniture in the house was this 1930s German-made cupboard, found in the bedroom, which still had its original floral carpet paper:

I love the classic British hunting print hanging on the bedroom wall:

The house and furniture is sized just right for Flagg Family dollhouse dolls, who moved in once I got it home. Here, dad and junior hang out in the TV room.

Coming up next: Day 3, the white cliffs and castle of Dover, and old toy finds at a boot sale (flea market)...

German Dollhouse Pastry Shop Revisited

A few months ago, I posted about an antique German dollhouse pastry shop we restored. I've been fiddling around with it since then, trying to get its accessories just right. One of the things I've added is a tiny table and chair, making a little dining corner. The shop is so big, there's plenty of room, and I think the addition has made it more interesting.

I also added a new shopkeeper, who seems to match the surroundings better than her predecessor:

"Hello dears! What can I get for you? 

The coffee cake is particularly lovely today."

Antique Snow Baby Doll

Who is this cutie? A Snow Baby Doll, from the early 1900s. And she's not just cute: she has a fascinating history, too.

In 1893, Marie Peary was born in the wilds of Greenland, the daughter and first child of Arctic explorer Robert E. Peary and his wife Josephine. "Society" was shocked that he had taken his wife along on this expedition, and were concerned for the child's health, but she and her mother seemed to thrive in the Arctic. Mrs. Peary, a former society figure herself, actually hunted caribou and fought off attacking walruses alongside her husband and their guides. Marie and her mother accompanied Peary on several more trips, and photographs of blond, blue eyed Marie dressed in her Arctic furs made it back to America, where enthralled readers followed her exploits in the newspapers. Entrepreneurs were quick to capitalize on Marie's popularity, and produced this novelty, the Snow Baby Doll, in many forms. The best were delightful likenesses of Marie, and appear to be based on this most famous photo.

This example is tissue mint in its original box, which is covered with blue paper dotted with white stars, reminiscent of the polar sky. The doll is 11 inches tall, with a bisque head inserted into a wool bodysuit, the hood still tied with its original ribbon. Integral white felt mittens and boots, trimmed with red laces, distinguish the Snow Baby from the otherwise similar Teddy Girl or Teddy Doll.

A wonderful book about Marie Peary's Snow Baby years was recently released; read about it  here. It's full of incredible images of Marie, her parents, and their adventures.

1972 Walk Lively Barbie

My sweetie found this Barbie for me recently at an antique shop, well-spotted in a case full of dolls. He thought this was "the most beautiful one," and indeed she is lovely, with her flower-child looks and fantastic Mod Era dress. From 1972, Walk Lively Barbie originally came with a platform which made her walk, swing her arms, and turn her head when the platform was pushed. The Mod Era dress from 1970 is called "Loop Scoop," and is one of my favorites from the time period.

 Groovy girl!

Vintage Playtown Meat Market

Dollhouse grocery shops are some of my favorite miniatures to collect. The tiny accessories (cans, boxes, packages, fruits, veggies, cheeses) are fun to find and stock the shelves with. This particular shop has a more limited product range, and it's one that will definitely not appeal to vegetarian readers.

The Playtown Meat Market was made in the 1940s -50s by Playtown Products Co. of New York. Playtown sold a whole range of these little shops, averaging 7 inches tall, including a bakery, general store, grocery shop, supermarket, and a fabulous luncheonette. (Click here to visit a great website featuring many of the Playtown Shops.)

The shops came filled with tiny items.
This one still has most of its original stock,
plaster meats housed behind sliding doors.













The market is just the right size for the contemporary Flagg Family Dollhouse Dolls, who are stocking up their freezer.

Vintage Charlie's Angels Doll

Rooting around in a box full of manky 1990s Barbies a few weeks ago, I found this treasure: a vintage Charlie's Angels doll, made by Hasbro in 1977, in its complete original outfit, and priced at just $5.99! This particular Angel is Kelly, originally played in the TV show by Jaclyn Smith, and the likeness is quite remarkable, I think (although I don't expect Jaclyn's head was quite this disproportionately large in real life...)

When I got her home, a happy discovery was made: she's just about the same scale as my vintage Mego Batman doll!

Batman was clearly happy about it, too: he's callously tossed Robin aside for Kelly. Poor Robin...I hope those menacing robots don't get him. He may be okay, though, as they appear to be looking the other way.

Hair Happenin's Francie Doll

I see a lot of vintage vinyl doll cases when I'm antiquing, and, while I've come across a few genuine Barbie ones, most are knock-offs or "generic" versions. It's always worth checking such cases out, however, for I've found they often have treasures within. This particular case, made by a company called Miner Industries, features just such a generic fashion type doll on the cover illustration.

The dealer had it priced absurdly low, I'm guessing because he thought the dolls inside were equally generic. They were not. While the clothes were nothing special, the doll on the right is a Tressy, made in 1965 by American Character. She's notable as one of the earliest "growing hair" dolls: a special button on her stomach and a keyhole on her back enabled her young owner to extend or retract a special "growing" strand of hair, that could then be styled in all sorts of ways by using included accessories.

(Don't the dolls look like they're gossiping and passing secrets to each other through the partition? What else could they do to pass the time, being packed away as they were for 30 years?)

 While not a Barbie, Tressy is still an interesting and attractive vintage fashion doll:


The other doll was a Barbie, or rather a Francie, Barbie's Mod cousin from England. This particular version is from 1970, and was called Hair Happenin's Francie. Francies tend to be much scarcer than Barbies of the same vintage, so she was quite a find.

Francie has a completely different face sculpt from Barbie, with softer, younger features and big brown doe-like eyes. This model sported a sleek blond bob, and originally came with several hair pieces to change up her style. Clearly, this case belonged to a child who loved doing hair. Perhaps she (or he?) grew up to become a stylist...

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: