I should preface this by clearly stating for the record I am not a mad minaturist who devotes her whole life to creating and furnishing 1:12 houses the like of which I would never live in, not even if they were 1:1.
Not that there is anything wrong with the mad minaturist who can automatically understand what the deal is between 1:12, 1:24 and 1:48 scale furniture, who knows that Bespaq furniture is the doll house equivalent of Chanel (if they ever made furniture) and who has a house filled with houses and display cases and, and, and… It’s just that that is not me.
The reason I for my continuing exploration of life at 1:12 is simple:
(Many) Years ago my granpa (grandfather by any other name), bless his heart and now deceased, made me a dollshouse.
Hand made. From scratch.
Backtrack – about 27 years ago my parents took me on a trip back to the old country to meet my grandparents. Some of the adventures my six year old selftook part in included a visit to a miniature village whereupon I fell in love with all the little houses. And why not?
They were houses but little. Plus there were canals. And locks and bridges and…a working train which tooted as it went past the little houses. What could you not love about that?
So (way back when) my 6 year old self fell in love. And my granpa said he would make me a dolls house.
Magazines were bought, dollhouses were perused. Preferences were discussed earnestly. Choices were made. Unfortunately my choice of champagne coloured, glassy perfection was not to be…but he did make me a dolls house.
He made me a miniature version of the house he and my grandma lived in Richmond, Surrey, United Kingdom (my six year old self wants to add Europe, The World, The Milky Way…).
Anyhoo – it’s not exact, it’s probably not to scale, it has three floors and no stairs (infuriating – as a segue for years I had an space/matter/time transporter – aka an imaginary lift – in the house to deal with that anomaly)…but it was made with love and – as any 6 year old girl would tell you – it was perfect.
This was shipped sea mail from the United Kingdom to Western Australia about 27 years ago.
It survived being shipped by sea; withstood 27 years of adoration, wear, tear and neglect. Bits have fallen off or been pulled off. Bits which weren’t fastened on that well to start with have evaporated over time – I think the front porch didn’t make it out of the box it was shipped in.
It has been subjected to amateur renovations involving graph paper (the dotted kind because it looked like a good paper for the bathroom at the time), wrapping paper (I liked that paper), laminate samples, cartridge paper (110gsm) and copy paper. It’s aging plyboard bones have withstood many assaults with my weapon of choice for mass destruction – aquadhere glue.
On top of all that, it had a hodge podge of furniture and which was….eclectic…to say the least. For example:
- The lounge room was furnished with a mix of Mattel Littles, Duplo, random items made out of cardboard, stuff picked up at junk sales and a persian rug I must have found somewhere…
- The master bedroom had a vintage plastic table (which eventually bowed in the middle and collapsed), a bed made out of cardboard and a vase made out of an hairspray container lid.
- The nursery had more Mattel Littles furniture and a pet basket and pets made out of fimo (thank you Katie Watson, where ever you are, you made them) and in my 1:12 World doves and cats could sleep in the same pet basket with no unfortunate consequences.
At various times over the last 27 years – a true lady never reveals her age, but she can lead you to the most appropriate conclusion… 😉 – I looked at my neglected dollshouse and swore that one day…one day…I would fix it up and furnish it as it so richly deserves.
S0… this blog is about my journey to restore this wonder…and my adventures in minature-land as I have done and am doing so.