Why I Sew for Dolls

Originally, I sewed for dolls because I lived in an apartment and space was so tight that I hated to lay patterns for myself. Sometimes I see a pattern and cannot live until I've tried it.

This happened with a skating dress pattern for Ideal's Dorothy Hamill doll in one of the Johanna Gast Anderton Sewing for Twentieth Century Dolls books. When I came across the doll with only her skates, I hunted out red knit and gold trim and by golly, Anderton was on the money!

Sometimes a doll is so strange that I can't help myself. At 8 inches, the big-eyed vinyl version of a Margaret Keane sad-eyed child  painting attracted me as the paintings never did. These dolls, I've learned, were called Susie Sad Eyes and Susie Slicker. They came from various manufacturers, and were sold both in boxes and in cellophane bags. Precursor of Blythe. They all had starfish hands, and all the heads were the same, but the bodies could differ wildly in color. Some were reddish; some were as pale as the heads. Most came dressed in a  dark gingham checked shirtwaist with a with a white collar -- quite gloomy. Possibly some of the dolls dressed in raincoats to protect themselves from their own tears. Before I ever saw a picture of the doll in original clothing, I acquired a nude one and dressed her in a sort of Raggedy Anne dress and smock. Now I wish I'd gone for a shirtwaist.

At one point, I bought nude Malibu Barbies because they had the right type of body to act as models during my attempts to make replicas of vintage outfits. After suffering through the construction of several costumes clearly not suited for a beach bunny, this one asked politely for a Twiggy dress. She got a knit straight dress and seems content.

 

I was attracted to 11 1/2" fashion dolls that were not made by Mattel long before I learned that they were called clones. I thought the term was "play-alikes." They can usually share clothing with Barbie, but are at least 1/4 inch different here and there. Should you end up with a skinny clone, the McCall's patterns for LJN's Brooke Shields doll have a wonderful strapless bodice that usually works. When inspiration fails, I fit a tissue to the doll's bust and draft a  strapless bodice. It could be for a sundress or a ballgown. The dolls don't care. They are so grateful for clothing that the fabric doesn't even need to be vintage. 

 

These two voodoo-eyed fashion dolls have no hip joints, making them great for display purposes, but not so great for play. These two had been loved nearly to death by the time I found them.