Tuesday Treasures

Last post on this subject matter asked, “What do you treasure most?” I wrote that what I treasured most in our family museum was my Barbie Dolls. Having told that story, I asked myself the same question again. Since that April posting, several keepsakes have been added to the museum, but would I say they are treasured pieces? Of course the answer is yes. Otherwise, why would I put them in the museum? So, what shall I blog about today? I get up out of my chair and take a short walk to the family museum. I open the doors, put on the light and perused the collections there that spans over 60 decades.     

Each and every one of those keepsakes has a story to tell. When guests see the museum, it never fails to amuse me on what item they pick out to either ask me a question about or share with me their story, having had and/or remember having the same thing. For example, the Dell pocketbook of 75 Hairstyles, and how we tried with all our might to get our hair to look like those pictures in the book, but never could.

I wore glasses starting in the second grade. Those early pairs did not get saved but the black tiger eye frames with mother-of-pearl inlays, did. I can’t remember what year, but I think I was in either seventh or eighth grade. I even have the original eyeglass case. Since then I have saved just about every pair of eyeglasses. I will share with you all of them in a future post.

In 1967, I was seventeen years old and followed “Twiggy’s” career from the first day she graced the covers of all the teen magazines. Like her, I was tall and skinny, but not that skinny, and loved all the mod fashions. Many of those coveted fashion magazines did not get saved and I regret that, however, when I found this one at an antique paper shop, I grabbed it and another that had Cybil Sheppard’s face on the cover. She was another one of my idols. When I carefully turn the pages of these fragile tome’s of teenage life of the 1960’s, it brings back many of the dreams I had, one of which was to be a famous fashion model. Living close to a big city like Chicago, I thought it would be a piece of cake. Just get some pictures taken, visit as many modeling agencies as you can, and then sit and hope (like the room full of other gals) that the agent likes you enough to send you on go-sees. I jumped out of my seat when she called me, handed me a ticket that told me where to go and who to see, and then report back to her. No problem. Right! Big problem and lots of them. But I won’t go there now, maybe later.

It is a kind of time-travel you take when you look at what you have saved from your younger years. Remnants of quests to conquer, careers you had set your heart on becoming, and the next steps you took to get you to new experiences in your life. Some of these memories are happy, some sad. But they are your memories and they made you the person you are now.

Some of my other keepsakes tell the story, such as the steno tablet from one of my first jobs, first-ever bowling trophy , even my first cell phone. Now how many people you know still have their first cell phone? Not many I am sure.

 

One very precious item is my bottle of real perfume š L’Air du Temps š by Nina Ricci in a single dove vintage Lalique Bottle. It was given to me by my hubby Keith on our honeymoon. The scent is still strong and takes me back to fond days and dreams. Another fragrance I adored was Halston’s Classic Cologne in the tear-shape bottle. Though the scent has faded a bit, it is still wonderful.

From cat eye frames, to a hair-do book, fashion magazines, perfume and cell phones, my collection of oddities still offer me and all who share this array of memories with me, plenty to talk about, laugh about, and feel good about. I hope you have saved some of the things from your past and though they may not be valuable antiques, they are all none-the-less valuable to you and me.

Next Post: Wednesday Wishes

Tuesday Treasures

                            What do you treasure the most?

Person – Place – Thing. I treasure all of those and more. But when I asked myself that question, I had to ponder a moment. And as this blog is about creating a family and/or personal museum(s), I opened the doors to my museum and let my eyes wandered from the people, locality, and possession, and found that

I treasured it all. But what was my favorite? What was the one or more things that inspired me to start my family museum? Answer: My Barbie Dolls!

Now, don’t shake your head, roll your eyes, or let out a guffaw. I am sure that your museum has things that may provoke the same reaction from me. However, remember we are what stuff we have. We hold onto things that are dear to us, many of which are very personal possessions that do or do not have great monetary value, which is really beside the point anyway. Therefore, here is a brief story about my Barbie’s taken from a much longer account.   

The first things I put in the museum were my three Barbie dolls. I lost their original outfits, so I purchased designer ensembles that I found in the Barbie catalog.  When I got them dressed, I actually felt giddy with the memory of how happy I was when I played with them, dreaming about my future and all I can be and do.

I got my first Barbie when I was 10 years old. Ancient by today’s standards where girls that age are far more – or try to be – sophisticated and would not even think of playing with a Barbie doll. My circa 1960 Barbie had the latest hairstyle, the bubble cut. Auburn color and very fashionable. For the next five years, I lived vicariously through my dolls. What else could a teenage girl who lived out in no‑mans‑land (Mokena, IL) do but fantasize about what can be. But as I dreamed of my future, I didn’t realize that not only my dolls were in danger, but so were my rights.

On a dreary afternoon, certain family members who decided it was time for me to grow up, being I was disinclined to do so, kidnapped my Barbie’s. I will never forget that day.

When I got home from a rough day at school, all I wanted to do was escape into Barbie's world. I crawled under the dining room table . . . I had set up Barbie's home there because I didn't have a bedroom of my own to play in. My brother got the bedroom. (I slept in the living room, dining room, the kitchen, but that’s another story) . . . and discovered my Barbie’s and all of their things were gone! I got very angry. I went to my mother to find out who took them and where they were. Much to my surprise, it was my mother and brother who kidnapped my dolls. They were in it together. They said it was for my own good. That I needed to grow up! Stop playing with dolls. Read books. Do my homework.

I was outraged, hurt and confused. Right then and there, I wanted to put my hands on my brother's precious Lionel train set and trash it! Yet little did I know then that after asserting my rights, that moment started me on developing the strong belief I had in myself to defend and protect, which served me well as I went through life.

Thirty-eight years later, I found my Barbie’s, dressed them up in new fashion ensembles, reapplied their makeup, combed their hair, and proudly displayed them in the family museum. I felt a deep satisfaction for not only saving them, but also for preserving my dreams.

So take this Tuesday and treasure the memory of that day.

Next Post: Wednesday Wishes