Like many little girls, I loved paper dolls. But when I asked my mom for a new one, we didn’t go to a store. Instead, she’d find a shoe box or pull the back off of a tablet of paper. Then, I’d choose light hair or dark, shoulder-length or short. I’d choose her pose and bathing suit style. Within minutes, a beautiful, custom paper doll would be penciled onto the cardboard. My mom would cut her out until I was old enough to do it myself.
Then, the real fun began! The first time, my mom set a paper doll down on white drawing paper and showed me how to trace her body for a fitted garment and how to mark key spots (shoulders, waist, wrists, elbows, knees, ankles) for other clothing. She lifted the paper doll from the page, showed me how to use the marks and set me free. I could make her dresses with a full or pencil skirt, maybe puffed sleeves, maybe polka dots or stripes. I could design a sweater, jacket, coat, summery button-down sleeveless blouses, and skirts, pants, shorts or long shorts, called peddle-pushers. Evening gowns were the most fun. Coloring was easy but cutting not so much.
Tab placement took some skill. Shoulder tabs are not always possible. Strapless dresses, skirts and pants don’t go up to the shoulders. Sometimes, my tabs failed and I had to begin again. It took patience.
The first dress was always a black satin knee-length party dress with a layer of black dotted chiffon over a full skirt. It looked (as much as I could manage) like my favorite dressy dress in my mom’s closet. She was so beautiful. I dreamed of being like her, wearing exquisite party dresses.
My mom also used her artistic savvy to make our farm house (and every subsequent home) cozy and beautiful. She understood how to put colors together. When I asked her how, she’d say, “Look at nature. God doesn’t make mistakes.” She filled my life with fabulous music, classic movies and literature, and introduced me to the color wheel!
After we moved to California, my mom studied art at a community college. I was mesmerized, watching a few lines of ink on a huge white canvas evolved into a stunning, perfectly proportioned automobile. The absence of color or lines or paint created the illusion of shine, just like the shine she put on my paper doll’s hair or the sparkle she put in her eyes. It was mysterious, magical.
One of my favorite paintings came from a book my mom loved: a beautiful lady from the 1800’s, with a flowing dress and a happy little hat tied on with a ribbon. She was seated in a horse-drawn carriage traveling on a shady, tree-lined road. That painting hung in my bedroom for years.
Now, I have all her artwork—since she’s passed away. I treasure her canvases, her amazing talent. My own unsung heroine. And I would give anything to have one of those paper dolls. They were such a normal, commonplace experience in my childhood that I didn’t save any. I didn’t realize how unique they were.
I bet your mom also has some special magic that’s her very own! So rather than getting her flowers for Mother’s Day, how about writing out a detailed list of all her talents and loving gestures? Include the little ones, bigger ones and especially the masterpieces. Let her know how much she means to you. Keep a copy for yourself—so you never forget. And bring her those flowers, too, if you can. Cherish her with all your heart.
