A huge doll called Tina with hair to her knees, paper dolls and a couple of Barbies.
These are the skeletons in the cupboard.
In real life, the bigger the broeks or trackies and T-shirt, the better. And a few big, flowy, plain dresses for the office. And takkies or flat shoes.
But, secretly, in my closet, I’m a frock-and-stiletto-heel chick.
I’m coming out because I have to confess: sorry, boss, but I spent aaaages online looking at the fashion at that New York Met extravaganza thingy.
It’s a bit of a paradox. I love them and loathe them, specially after the work from home comfort factor. Since lockdown, I have circulated about six “home” frocks and five sets of pyjamas. The home frocks have holes at the bottom where Bella, now (I think) six or seven, used to play tug with the hems when she was a puppy.
I have one comfortable “doctor/vet-visit” dress.
Not for the price of Marilyn Monroe’s 1962 Happy Birthday Mr President dress (bought by Ripleys Believe it or Not! in 2016 for $4.8 million) would I actually wear anything like that. And certainly not at the added price of losing about 7kg to get into it because no alterations were allowed. That’s apparently what the Kardashian who wore it said she had to do. And she had to take it off as soon as she entered the venue, where she slipped into a replica for the rest of the night. Imagine trying to explain red wine stains on that.
Designer dresses are beyond most of us, but some sure are pretty.
The discomfort of nipping, tucking, breathing in and corseting required to wear one made every fat roll on the couch quiver with horror.
But how I wished I had kept my Barbie or paper dolls so I could let the creative juices flow.
My little friends and I spent hours cobbling scraps together into magnificent haute couture. If we had a few sequins or bits of lace, Paris and Milan were just a stitch away. This was crushed in high school when we had to sew with “real” stitches even though nobody ever sees them.
Crayons and koki pens, glue and glitter, they all added up to some of the most glam, spectacular paper doll outfits. Oh, and loads of bits of sticky tape for when those damn little tabs tore off with all the costume changes.
Shoes were a bit of an issue with the Barbies, but the paper variety had more Manolo Blahnik-beaters than Imelda Marcos tried to scurry off in. Damn those tabs, though.
In my mini-me defence, one of my other favourite pastimes was to get stuck into our “sandpit” and, using a treasured collection of old ice-cream sticks for bridges and fences or discarded tubs for “lakes”, create a dusty city of roads for our dinky cars.
Either pastime delved into imagination, creativity and make-do.
Even though they will never know it, and will clutch screaming and hollering to their devices, young kids will never experience the freedom of escaping into a world of simple play. I wouldn’t swop that for a cupboard full of Christian Louboutins.
- Lindsay Slogrove is the news editor
The Independent on Saturday