Does anyone reminisce about a favourite doll from the past?

Ruby Rose

Ruby Rose

Location: Canadian Prairies
The Little Match Girl
by Ruby Rose​

When I was a little girl, one of my favourite classics was the story of The Little Match-Seller by Hans Christian Andersen (1846). In the year of 1995, much to my delight, upon my return from a short trip, I was presented with a 12" character doll depicting a little girl of about eight years old...bringing to mind a little match-seller of long ago. I choose to call her little Lavina, datter of Hans. My husband only remembers purchasing her from an elderly and rather cantankerous man with perhaps a trace of a Danish accent...leaving one with the impression of him being totally unaware and uncaring about this fragile slip of a girl...Lavina. He was only interested in selling his table of old wares.

Lavina is an old papier-mache doll with hard stuffed cloth body. Her legs, arms, face and head are all papier-mache. Her shoes, black papier-mache with flat wooden soles are comparable to zen-like composition shoes in appearance...giving one the impression of slippers and not the type of foot covering one would wear out in the dark...in the cold with snow falling. Her skin-coloured face is adorned with rosy cheeks complete with a smattering of sun-kissed freckles; painted eyes of blue and the sweetest rosebud mouth. On her head, there is only an ash blond tuff of hair, possibly mohair, on her forehead. The rest of her head is covered with a cotton yellow rag of a kerchief. Lavina is wearing a below-knee sky blue cotton skirt with yellow/red hand-painted flowers on it; a long-sleeve white cotton blouse as well as long white hose on her legs. I believe that these are the original clothes.

There are seemingly no markings on this delightful little orphan other than...the appealing look on her sweet face and perhaps when one gazed on her tiny hands, constructed of a type of putty...giving one the impression of having been exposed to the elements whilst trying to sell her matches...

I close my eyes and see this little girl...Lavina...datter of Hans, shivering...as with small basket of matches in hand, she crept down yet another street hoping to sell her matches and bring home a coin or two. Her hands are bluish from the cold. It was getting dark now. Snow was falling fast all around her. Her small tuff of dusty, matted hair appeared frozen to her forehead. Then, I see her gazing through the passing lit windows of the houses...yearning for the warmth within...and a small taste of the food which sent forth such a savoury smell in the airspace about her...but alas, not for her.

Lavina dropped her basket as her hands had now lost all feeling from the cold. She slips...unseen to the ground and lights one of her precious matches...then another...and another but all to no avail. It is not enough to keep her warm. Then she closed her eyes to dream yet again of her beloved bedstamor (grandmother)...long gone. Lavina lifted her cold hands and cried; “Bedstemor...I beg of you...come for me and give some of your warmth...” And she did. The next morning, Lavina's little body was discovered leaning against a tree. She was on her knees with arms outstretched...in the stiffness of death. Her cheeks were rosy and her tiny rosebud mouth was frozen in a smile...forever.
 

The Tiny Tears doll. She came in a box or a pink suitcase with baby clothes, baby bottle, bibs and a blanket.

Later it was the Ginny doll and then the big sister Jill doll. Jill was a fashion doll, the forerunner of Barbie. I had a Miss Revlon doll that I really loved.

I don't remember naming my dolls either. but there was one I called Rita- I don't know why.
 
On Christmas when I had just turned 5yrs old Santa Claus wasn't going to visit our house because my Mom's mother had passed away at the end of November so my Mom said we would not be celebrating Christmas. Me and my sister were shocked when we came down Christmas morning and there were 2 dolls waiting for us. Of course, later we found out my Dad had felt bad and bought us the dolls. That was many years ago but we both still have our dolls. We were offered $1,000.a piece for them but no money in the world is enough for us to part with our dolls. Here is a picture of the dolls.
il_fullxfull.276009904.jpg
 
A Christmas I remember in 1949, I got a walking talking doll named Winnie.
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She was my favorite for a long time, but I have no idea what happened to her.
 
A bride, I was dying for a bride. In those days us girls had a trunk, forget what it was called, that we put stuff in for when we married. I desperately wanted a bride doll. It was Xmas, grandma came through, and there it was under the tree. It came in a blue box, she had a beautiful white dress with a veil. She was everything I dreamed of and wanted.

I unwrapped her, started to open the box, and the wicked witch of the west, my mother, screamed no. 😭. The doll was placed in the box in my closet. I was never allowed to open the box. Never allowed to play with the doll. But I used to sit in the closet, hiding, with the door closed, and she kept me company. 😆. That doll and I were best friends for a long time.
 
Sassycakes said:
On Christmas when I had just turned 5yrs old Santa Claus wasn't going to visit our house because my Mom's mother had passed away at the end of November so my Mom said we would not be celebrating Christmas. Me and my sister were shocked when we came down Christmas morning and there were 2 dolls waiting for us. Of course, later we found out my Dad had felt bad and bought us the dolls. That was many years ago but we both still have our dolls. We were offered $1,000.a piece for them but no money in the world is enough for us to part with our dolls. Here is a picture of the dolls.
View attachment 173521
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Sassy, that's Saucy Walker. I had one too, but didn't play with her much. She was too big. A thousand,huh?

Loving man, your dad!
 
Ruby Rose said:
The Little Match Girl
by Ruby Rose​

When I was a little girl, one of my favourite classics was the story of The Little Match-Seller by Hans Christian Andersen (1846). In the year of 1995, much to my delight, upon my return from a short trip, I was presented with a 12" character doll depicting a little girl of about eight years old...bringing to mind a little match-seller of long ago. I choose to call her little Lavina, datter of Hans. My husband only remembers purchasing her from an elderly and rather cantankerous man with perhaps a trace of a Danish accent...leaving one with the impression of him being totally unaware and uncaring about this fragile slip of a girl...Lavina. He was only interested in selling his table of old wares.

Lavina is an old papier-mache doll with hard stuffed cloth body. Her legs, arms, face and head are all papier-mache. Her shoes, black papier-mache with flat wooden soles are comparable to zen-like composition shoes in appearance...giving one the impression of slippers and not the type of foot covering one would wear out in the dark...in the cold with snow falling. Her skin-coloured face is adorned with rosy cheeks complete with a smattering of sun-kissed freckles; painted eyes of blue and the sweetest rosebud mouth. On her head, there is only an ash blond tuff of hair, possibly mohair, on her forehead. The rest of her head is covered with a cotton yellow rag of a kerchief. Lavina is wearing a below-knee sky blue cotton skirt with yellow/red hand-painted flowers on it; a long-sleeve white cotton blouse as well as long white hose on her legs. I believe that these are the original clothes.

There are seemingly no markings on this delightful little orphan other than...the appealing look on her sweet face and perhaps when one gazed on her tiny hands, constructed of a type of putty...giving one the impression of having been exposed to the elements whilst trying to sell her matches...

I close my eyes and see this little girl...Lavina...datter of Hans, shivering...as with small basket of matches in hand, she crept down yet another street hoping to sell her matches and bring home a coin or two. Her hands are bluish from the cold. It was getting dark now. Snow was falling fast all around her. Her small tuff of dusty, matted hair appeared frozen to her forehead. Then, I see her gazing through the passing lit windows of the houses...yearning for the warmth within...and a small taste of the food which sent forth such a savoury smell in the airspace about her...but alas, not for her.

Lavina dropped her basket as her hands had now lost all feeling from the cold. She slips...unseen to the ground and lights one of her precious matches...then another...and another but all to no avail. It is not enough to keep her warm. Then she closed her eyes to dream yet again of her beloved bedstamor (grandmother)...long gone. Lavina lifted her cold hands and cried; “Bedstemor...I beg of you...come for me and give some of your warmth...” And she did. The next morning, Lavina's little body was discovered leaning against a tree. She was on her knees with arms outstretched...in the stiffness of death. Her cheeks were rosy and her tiny rosebud mouth was frozen in a smile...forever.
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I missed playing with dolls, Ruby Rose. With 4 baby siblings born between the years of 1966 and 1973, I was the second set of helping hands in the home, and so had real babies to take care of (the kind that drink and wet and cry for real), so the doll thing just never took off with me.
 
My mother kept promising me a baby sister or brother but each pregnancy ended in a miscarriage or stillbirth (five in five years).

Finally, she decided it wasn't going to happen and bought me the most realistic baby doll she could find, an Effenbee Baby. It had rooted hair and was beautiful and I loved it. It must have been charmed because she had three more babies that lived (plus two more that came to us).

Unfortunately, the doll ended up in the attic and deteriorated as it was made of natural rubber.
 
Aunt Marg said:
I missed playing with dolls, Ruby Rose. With 4 baby siblings born between the years of 1966 and 1973, I was the second set of helping hands in the home, and so had real babies to take care of (the kind that drink and wet and cry for real), so the doll thing just never took off with me.
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That sounds like my household...too many babies...every time I turned around, there was another to help with! WAAA
 
Ruby Rose said:
That sounds like my household...too many babies...every time I turned around, there was another to help with! WAAA
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Yes, that was our house, too... one after another with only 2-3 years separating, and from the time I was around age 9-10, Friday night was babysitting night for me, and that went on until I was in high school.
 
Aunt Marg said:
Yes, that was our house, too... one after another with only 2-3 years separating, and from the time I was around age 9-10, Friday night was babysitting night for me, and that went on until I was in high school.
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I didn't object helping my Mom...what I did object to was my Mom sending me off to babysit others on weekends seeing I was trained!
Aunt Marg said:
Yes, that was our house, too... one after another with only 2-3 years separating, and from the time I was around age 9-10, Friday night was babysitting night for me, and that went on until I was in high school.
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Ruby Rose said:
Thank you for the above pictures. Reading all the replies, it has occurred to me that you are all 'younguns'...and I feel like a real 'oldie' but I sure enjoyed reading each and every one.
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You are most welcome.
I definitely can’t relate. This isn’t a story I’ve ever heard about and when I was about 6 my parents bought me my first doll and I hated it.
There wasn’t a thing wrong with the doll. It even came with its an wooden crib. Actually, it was a beautiful doll.

Unfortunately it wasn’t something I felt I could connect with , yet I had plenty of stuffed animals that I did. So many that I’d line them up in my bed , under all the covers and sleep on the floor. 🤪 lol

Was there a series of these books like Nancy Drew stories? What did you like most about the stories? What types of books do you read now?
 
Ruby Rose said:
I didn't object helping my Mom...what I did object to was my Mom sending me off to babysit others on weekends seeing I was trained!
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Oh, you suffered the same, did you. ROFL!

Yes, my mom would regularly line up babysitting work for me, too, unbeknownst to me, but I never felt that she was doing it to keep me busy or supplied with money or out of trouble, but rather, my mom was always so giving. She never liked to see anyone hard done by, and so if she knew someone was in need, Aunt Marg's name was cast out there to help save the day.

Double yes on being trained and wanted. I landed many-a babysitting job based on the fact I had experience caring for baby siblings. Mothers took comfort in that. In addition to, word of mouth played a big role in a lot of the babysitting work I got, too. Mrs. W, would talk to Mrs. K, and Mrs. K, would talk to Mrs. C, and before long found myself babysitting at all of the Mrs., homes.

Did lots and lots of evening babysitting throughout school. Would start around suppertime and sit until 9 or 10 pm (weekdays)... later on weekends. Summer holidays anything went... daytime, nighttime, weekends, whenever the phone rang.
 
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