At 50-years-old, I find I'm still attracted to dolls. I couldn't resist this wee Japanese cutie, spotted at the Octavia charity shop in Ealing last week for £1.50. The white porcelain lady was a gift from a friend, the tiny pink mistress - a brooch - was found on Ebay CLICK HERE and the brush babe an 'as-is' bargain buy CLICK HERE. When I was a girl, I loved my dolls with abandon, resulting in Barbies with mismatched shoes and a Raggedy Ann that was far more raggedy than Ann.
I wonder if my grown-up fascination is misguided atonement for the childish, even reckless attention I lavished on dollies long gone? Sadly these modern-day dears pictured, collected and cared for, enjoy no fun and games. These are fashion curios rather than play things. These do not star in immature but imaginative dramas, they do not converse with green plastic Army men or ride about on the shoulders of hand-knit teddy bears. A lesson for this living doll? Indeed. At 50, at any age maybe, let me be a moppet with mismatched shoes rather than an impeccable figurine, cherished but untouched.