Friday, September 19, 2014

Vadoma the Gypsy

Two doll articles in a row. My finger is clearly on the pulse of modern culture.

I was meandering through the shelves of novelty salt shakers and broken waffle irons in Goodwill, when I stumbled across the omnipresent pile of naked barbies. You know the one. Every Goodwill has one. This lovely young lady caught my eye for two reasons

1. She wasn't an amputee, and she still had the use of her elbows and knees. That's pretty good for a doll. It shouldn't be, but it is.  

2. That glorious tawny lion mane she's sporting. I pulled her out of the pile feet first, and the moment I saw those tangled feral locks I knew I was taking her home. Even naked, she already looked like something right out of my head. Or is it "especially" naked? Probably that one.

So, something I never really talk about because I'm so preoccupied with monster women: I love gypsies. Love love love, love love. I know for a fact that Disney is to blame. When Hunchback came out, I went through at least a year of obsession with Esmeralda. She's still one of my favorite characters of all time, and I would probably shove a toddler if they had a greeting station for her at Disney World. Thus is the depths of my depravity.

The idea of the mystic palm reading Romani is one that I always enjoy, so I knew what I was going to do with miss naked Barbie before I left the store. 

Now she is Vadoma, mystical vagabond and exposer of unseen truths. She's also missing a thumb. I like to imagine she sacrificed it to seal away some ancient death spirit. Better than losing it to a teething toddler. Did I mention I scrubbed her down head to toe? You should always do that with anything you get from Goodwill. You never know when your new books previous owner was Gorloth the Living Disease.

She and Clawdeen look lovely together, and I'm glad they could overcome their werewolf/gypsy prejudices. Talbots be damned!

Now I'm pondering how to build a horse drawn cart, or a palm reading tent. Dealing with gypsies is a tricky thing...

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Clawdeen's New Threads

Being an artsy type leads down some unusual roads. Sometimes those roads involve being a grown man that makes clothes for dolls and takes pictures of them in trees. Put Anthony Hopkins in it and you've got the makings of a contemplative drama about LIFE. Not a life but the vague concept of LIFE itself. I had a point, I'm sure of it... Hey, look pictures!

Anyone who takes a minute to look over this website knows that Clawdine is my assistant/model, and I like to change up her look at least once a year. Problem is, most doll outfits suck. If you're not looking for a skimpy high fashion dress, or a puffy princess gown you're out of luck. Oh, and you want a color other than bright pink or pastel purple? Good luck with that. I am outraged. I plan to write a very strongly worded letter to Mattel regarding their inability to produce dolls for the male 18-30 demographic. HMPH!

In the mean time, I've concocted my own solution. In a fit of needles and swatches and Hawaiian Punch Polar Blast, I created my own outfit for our lurid lupine logistics...alliteration is not my strong suit. And I daresay, she looks pretty damn sharp. It's still pretty outlandish, but much closer to something you'd see a real human being wearing than half the crap in the toy aisle.

Now when I start reviewing Halloween crap it won't look like she's been wearing the same outfit for a year...


Friday, September 5, 2014

The Sugar Troll

Most of the ghouls and ghosts of the witching season bide their time until October, but one particular beastie always arrives a month early. See, when the factories are busy pumping out chocolate and caramel and squishy jellies in preparation for the holiday season, they tend to make mistakes. Misshapen candy corns, discolored gummy worms, jelly beans that aren't beans at all. And all of these mistakes just aren't fit to be served to the discerning public, so they're tossed out. Great heaps of festively colored rejects. 
     But sometimes these mistakes refuse to be forgotten. Who are they to be deemed unworthy? And when a particular heap builds up the right amount pressure and social indignation, a Sugar Troll may be born. A great beast with a gummy squishy body, candy corn fangs, and jawbreaker eyeballs. Only one desire drives these glucose golems: MORE. More cotton candy, more fancy cakes, more caramel apples (minus the apple). Candy cannibalism is what they live for, and they don't understand the nuances of sharing. So when the night comes, and you're toting that bucket of sugary handouts, be careful. If a sweet scent fills your nose, and the bushes shake and tremble as if possessed, maybe you should leave a few of those treats there as a peace offering. Just in case.