Twice a year, I get to buy a doll. Savage Mill hosts a doll-and-teddy-bear show in March and September. So on Sunday, while everyone else is recovering from their St Patrick's Day hangovers, I'll be mulling over my doll choices. Last year, I got a cat doll dressed in a pale blue frock and hat with feathery boa.
Doll collectors can be a little...um...strange (read: picky). Unless it's something unusual and/or fabulous like the above-mentioned cat doll or my two slightly eerie-looking clown dolls, I usually go for dark-haired lady dolls in fancy dresses. I've no idea why - I assume it's the uber-girly coming out in me.
I have a respectable collection, and no, it doesn't take up the entire house. My dolls are all on top of my entertainment center, with the exception of the clown dolls, which are on my fireplace mantle.
I've been to the doll factory in Williamsburg, though I don't know if they'll let me come back. The last time I was there, the sales lady was rather miffed at me because the doll I eventually chose to buy was "one of last year's models." It's not like you can tell.
Perhaps in my retirement years I'll run a doll hospital (a repair shop for dolls). How fun would that be?
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