High Fashion

I was in my parents’ house yesterday, and I took the opportunity to go rummaging in my old room. Sure enough, I found some of the things I’ve been remembering recently.

There must be a huge cache of my doll clothes somewhere around the place. Yesterday I found only a few things – like the spotty skirt that never looked quite right (the elastic casing is way too wide) and the pink skirt that was never finished – I seem to remember that the design was inspired by the figure of Lady Louisa Connolly, who lived at Castletown House in Co. Kildare in the eighteenth century.

Above them, on the left, you see my faithful old Sindy doll, wearing a knitted two-piece from some time in the mid-1980s. I particularly like the three-quarter-length raglan sleeves – actually, I remember making them. I’d figured out (or more likely, my grandmother had told me) that I could decrease by knitting two stitches together, and I was doing it whenever I could.

Sitting with Sindy (although not too happily, by the looks of things – I think they may not be on speaking terms) is a doll I made in the south of France in August 1988. I was thirteen, and on my very first school exchange: three weeks staying with a lovely family in Grasse, not far from Nice. (Hi, Delphine, if you’re reading!)

I’ve mentioned before that I often get seized by the crafting urge when I’m away from home, and have to slake my thirst on whatever is locally available. On this occasion, I struck gold: Delphine’s grandmother, who lived in the house, had a vast stash of fabric and supplies, and she generously let me have the run of them.

The doll is made from bits of an old sheet, I think. She has brown yarn hair, held in place with a skinny strip of cotton along her parting. I drew a rough pattern on copybook paper and stitched her by hand.

I made her hastily, keen to get on to the real business: dressing her. She got two outfits – a skirt and vest top in striped cotton with a hairband to match (just visible in the top photo), and this black and white satin evening gown. Isn’t it just too deliciously 80s?

The white strip down the centre front holds the black pleats in place. On the back, you can see my penchant for dramatic embellishment. (The bows conceal hook-and-eye fastenings.) I was SO PROUD of this dress, I tell you.

The doll looks pretty miserable, though. I’m not sure why I did her face like that – my best guess is that I wanted her to look dignified – to distance her from the childish innocence of a wide smile. Instead, she’s clearly nursing a secret sorrow. I suppose being stuffed with cotton wool balls can’t be all that comfortable.