Unlock Editor’s Digest for free
FT editor Roula Khalaf selects her favorite stories in this weekly newsletter.
My first memory of a dollhouse was when I was little, back in the 60s, and I was given a plastic one as a birthday present. Such was my giddy delight that I began to dance around him, only then did I lose my balance and fall on top of him. The house was ruined before he even had a chance to play with it. Was it that crushing disappointment that led to my nostalgic desire as an adult to right the wrong of my childhood clumsiness and own a properly built home that I could better care for? Maybe it was.
A few years ago, when I turned 60, I saw a second-hand machine. doll’s House in a shop window. Without a moment’s hesitation, I walked into the store and bought an old Tudor style house, fooling myself into thinking I was buying it with my grandchildren in mind. What lies we tell ourselves! Somehow I managed to fit the 3-foot-wide house into my car and drove home with the same giddy delight I had felt when I was that clumsy baby. But this time there was going to be no reckless dancing, just careful care.
With the dollhouse safely set up, I spent most nights searching online for ways to furnish it. Before I knew it, I had disappeared down a rabbit hole filled with all things 12th scale: wallpaper, furniture, paintings, dinnerware, and kits for making intricately designed rugs. Prices on everything ranged from the very reasonable (made in China) to the incredibly expensive but totally justifiable as the exquisite items were handcrafted by extremely talented artisans. My first foray into experiencing the adrenaline of an online auction was when I was purchased a four-poster bed, quickly followed by a hand-painted desk. It goes without saying that bidding online is dangerous for the bank account and requires an iron will.
Before long I had decorated my old house, not in a truly Tudor style, but rather a mix of Victorian, and was looking for another house to satisfy my growing obsession. That’s the thing about dollhouses: one is never enough. I soon found the perfect object of my desire on eBay. It arrived via special delivery a few days later and by then I knew what I was going to do with it: the two-story Georgian house would be a candy store on the ground floor with a shabby chic living space above. he. It became my favorite house to work in and allowed me to indulge a growing weakness for miniature pottery, as well as tiny versions of the toys I loved as a child, such as Rupert Bear, Sooty and Sweep, and Noddy and Big Ears. .
By then I had already discovered the joy (while my wallet screamed to be left alone) of frequenting the Kensington Dollhouse Festival in London, as well as in miniature show near Coventry. Artisans travel from all over the world to attend these fairs, where they sell their mini works of art. Only among the multitude of dollhouse devotees can the true extent of the “mini-mania” be appreciated. French, Spanish, Italian, Dutch, English, Ukrainian and Chinese are spoken: the world of miniatures is truly international. And an addictive one.
Then I saw a cute little dollhouse on eBay that was just begging me to give it a good home. So of course I did it and spent many happy hours painting, wallpapering, gluing and sewing in my attempt to turn the house into a cozy post-war cottage.
I see myself as a fan of the world of doll houses, but I love doing what I do. It’s both absorbing and relaxing, and creating these unique miniature worlds gives me an outlet for my strange need to control things. Instagram has introduced me to some wonderfully creative thumbnail creators, whom I admire immensely for their inventive skills (which I sadly don’t possess but can aspire to). I have made some lovely friends through this passion for dollhouses and a group of us travel to shows together.
And if anyone is wondering about my poor and needy grandchildren, I actually bought a second-hand dollhouse especially for their use. I refrained from redecorating or furnishing it expensively so that if something broke, no tears would be shed, on my part, of course. Watching my granddaughter carefully rearrange furniture and chat to herself while she played with the house gave me great pleasure, and I hope that when she is older she may follow in her grandmother’s footsteps with a love for all things miniature.
An Ideal Husband by Erica James is a publication by harpercollins at £16.99