Basements and Paper Dolls

When Jess and I were younger our parents owned a restaurant.  All of our time not spent at the library or school was spent in the basement of the restaurant, (down there we had a b & w tv, books and our imaginations), or was spent exploring the area around the restaurant and eventually befriending the people who lived in the houses next to the restaurant.  I, at least, had no real friends my own age,  and I  did nearly everything with Jessica. (Except of course, for the times when Sarah hopped on her bike and peddled across town to smuggle food to us ^_^).

Jessica and I befriended Naomi, and her son Monty who lived to the right of the restaurant, and Dorothy who lived on the left side. Down the alley a bit we found Margery.

Dorothy was a doll collector and wondrous giver of fruit cake and milk - year round. Naomi let me play poker games on her little hand held electronic toy, and shared her experiences of Arizona with us.

Margery collected...well, nearly everything. She enjoyed keeping scrapbooks on famous celebrities; thus I have quite a bit of trivia stored in my head all about Princess Diana, and Queen Grace, and old movie stars like Cary Grant.

 In addition to these three wonderful ladies we also befriended a woman named Ruth who lived all the way across town, far from the restaurant. Rather than let distance separate us, Jess and I often begged mom to drop us off at her house, and when that failed, we took to the streets on our trusty bikes (I believe it took us at least two hours to get there, all uphill). Ruth made miniatures, she had a wonderfully detailed hand made doll house, and she also made dolls. I clearly remember the smell of her basement, and the elaborate lunches she made for us; with edges cut off and usually at least two courses. Ruth was a lady in the true sense of the word.

My favorite part of Ruth's collection were her paper dolls. She had enormous collections; all carefully cut out of magazines and I loved playing with them. One of the dolls was named Betty and Betty was featured in at least ten magazines a year beginning in the forties. So I had many outfits for Betty; she went to Paris and Russia, and sometimes she stayed in the United States and visited New York. Betty was the epitome of grace and beauty. Ruth gave me a large number of these dolls eventually (and I still have all of them) and while I no longer play with actual dolls I find myself fascinated with these paper dolls.

 I didn't spend my childhood connected to a computer. I spent my time in basements or apartments so chock full of antiques and papers from the past, that sometimes I couldn't find room to move. The past was always there, a fully living thing that reached out and wrapped its arms around me, and breathed the air from another age into my lungs.

Today I was sitting at the computer and an ad popped up. "Dress Kat in just a couple clicks of the button" Kat was dressed in a black bra with a prominent skeleton on one breast, black boxer shorts, and stiletto heels. She had several tattoos located all across her body. She smiled at me saucily, with short black hair, smoking black eyes and little steel earrings dangling nearly to her shoulders.

Next to her were the outfits I could 'put' on her; a black miniskirt slitted up both sides, a tight white business shirt from which her breasts were bursting, a little handbag with a dragon breathing fire on it. Finally, there was a plaid school girl's skirt with a skull on one side.

And  I had to stop and think. Do children today realize the amazing coolness of actual 'paper' dolls?

There is something entirely different about carefully folding little paper tabs of a bright yellow sun dress over little paper limbs and 'clicking' the mouse to slap on Kat's latest black dress with the cutout to reveal the cleavage beneath her clothes.