As a young girl, I was a bit of a Tom boy, so I did not spend hours playing with dolls. I had one baby doll, and I shared Barbies with my sisters, but I did not play Barbie as much as I played fashion and interior designer. Sometimes I would pacify my younger sister and act out daily life with the dolls, but I enjoyed playing with my older sister more as she wanted to style hair while I styled their clothing. We did not make up nor mimic the every day drama of our lives, so what did we do during those long winter months after harvest season? We set up boutiques and beauty shops minus furniture and decor because we did not have a Barbie Dream House nor did we have the Barbie Boutique. I was envious of my cousin because she received the dream house for Christmas one year. I had asked for one, but alas did not get it. She was many years older, so I justified it to myself that that was why Santa brought her the house and not me. It never occurred to me that the cost was prohibitive when parents have four children. We seemed to have every thing we needed, but occasionally I would ask for something I did not receive, and only then, did I become aware of our financial struggles.
My mother would save the day. She put her creative skills and sewing skills together to create something much better than the actual Barbie Dream House. My mother was so talented. She could sew, paint, upholster furniture, sing, and play the piano. She began most days with music. The Righteous Brothers, Frank Sinatra, The Mamas and the Papas belted songs from the stereo. Many Saturdays we woke to her singing as she practiced her solo for church the next day. This was before music was recorded, so she played the piano while she sang. I often wonder if it was to get us up and out of bed, or if it was just her way to start the day. Either way, we all love music, and like her, we appreciate all kinds of music.
Once we were up and checking off our chore list one by one, she went about her day, cooking and cleaning, and usually sewing. The winter after I had asked for the Barbie house, she decided that she would make us a Barbie doll house. My mother began saving boxes from her frequent trips to the small grocery in our community. She only shopped there for incidentals like milk and bread. Unbeknownst to us, she made several trips to various design centers and acquired discontinued wall paper books and carpet samples. She must have also been saving match boxes, oatmeal boxes and other various items like straws, popsicle sticks, and cotton. Her fabric trunk held a wealth of scraps, so she had many colors from which to choose.
First she painted the boxes. On some walls, she added wall paper and one room even had faux paneling-this was the late 60’s and 70’s you know. The “panelled” den walls became the backdrop for a striking free standing cone type fireplace complete with fur rug. Modern sofas were fashioned from the match boxes while oatmeal boxes made nice rounded space age looking chairs. Our furniture did not look exactly like the dream house which made it more unique, and I liked that.
The bedrooms were very stylish blue and green palettes respectively complete with shag carpet to match. Like our own bedrooms, curtains and bedding complemented each other and the faux wood paper furniture completed the rooms. Our rooms were so much better than the painted window treatments and art work found on the walls of the dream house. Plus we had extra scraps of material, so we could change our rooms when we wanted unlike the Barbie house.
I think about the amount of time my mother spent creating our Dream House. The attention to detail was phenomenal. She loved to draw house plans and sketch house facades, so maybe this was her way of seeing her work to fruition. I did not think much about all of that at the time. I was just happy to have the house. I was in heaven.
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