I first ran into this weird little doll about four years ago, close to when we moved here from Boston. He lived in a glass case in one of the local antique markets. I’m not really a doll person per se. I don’t collect them and I didn’t often play with them when I was little. I was always more interested in books, then and now. I have a few of Kerry Kate‘s lovely odd hand painted dolls, who now keep company with the formerly lonely vintage Palestinian rag doll. I think I had a Blythe doll once upon a time but I wasn’t attached enough to her to swear that she existed.
For some reason I became obsessed, absolutely obsessed, with the above pictured odd little antique bisque doll from (I think) the late 1800s. He has no eyes, no hair, messed up ghoulish little teeth, and wears a threadbare roughed up outfit comprised of a jacket that is clearly too small and big pants – voluminous felted wool pants – with Dutch wooden shoes instead of feet. I would go and stare at that doll every time we went to the antique markets hunting for books and talk myself out of buying him. He was expensive for an unfinished bisque doll and I’m not a collector of things. I don’t collect objects other than books related to my work.
I think I drove C.P. McDill crazy over that doll, fussing about the doll, obsessing about the doll, informing him repeatedly that I wanted the doll. I have no idea why I wanted it and I’m sure he was completely baffled. This went on for a few years. That’s right. Years! When Erzebet came along on one of our trips to the market (when was that?) and was shown the object of my obsession, she said “Hah!” out loud “You just want that doll for the BIG pants!” I just lost it laughing and could not stop. From then on the doll was known as the BIG pants doll. Shortly after her visit, I decided I should stop obsessing and just buy the doll. So off I went to collect my doll.
Of course, he was gone.
Gone!
I searched the entire market. I grilled every dealer. No one remembered the doll or knew where it went. I thought that strange. No one noticed it except me. I was crushed and I felt completely ridiculous for feeling so crushed over a doll. This happened years ago, whenever it was that Erzebet last visited. For these past few years I have wistfully examined the glass cases every time I visit the market, hoping to see the BIG pants doll not staring at me through its naked eye sockets and baring its nasty little teeth at me. Hah! I missed that homely little incomplete face. I know it seems so weird but there was just something about it that grabbed me. Obsessions. Attachments. These happenings are such a mystery.
Then on Friday, just a few days ago, we went to the markets and I did my usual thorough plunder and pillage of every interesting affordable dusty deteriorating old book I could find. When I was at the entrance, almost done with my wheeling and dealing, about to take home my pile of crumbling papers and boards, C.P. casually walked up to me and said “Your doll is back.” I said “What?! What doll?” He said “The doll with the BIG pants, the doll you liked.” I thought “What?! The doll I liked? Liked? Are you kidding me?” The man is a master of understatement.
I had not looked in the glass cases. I ran over and looked in them all. I didn’t see the doll. I thought C.P. was messing with me but there it was on a low shelf way in the corner on a stand that said “For Display Only” Oh no! I asked if the doll had been there all along and the consensus was that it had just shown up after being on tour with the dealer who owned it. She had used it for a display and never sold it. Usually, when I fuss about whether or not to buy something, and I lose the chance, it ends up being a momentary disappointment and ultimately (as my friend Lisa pointed out when I told her this story) it is a relief. This was different. I just knew. I always had a feeling that doll would be mine and now it is. I am happy to have the doll. However, I still have no idea why I wanted it in the first place.
{ 9 comments… read them below or add one }
But he is a complete doll! He’s very zen. He has warm, practical, natural-fiber clothing, and he has a completely clear mind. See how bright his eyes are? No incomplete person would have such an intense gaze. We should all be so lucky as to have the universe shine down into our heads and out through our eyes.
What a wonderful story!
I do so look forward to your blog entries, and this one made my evening. ~ Alysa (formerly psycholobrarian on livejournal :)
Big Pants Doll! Was that way back in 2007? We did cruise the shops. I remember wanting that huge Romanian mask, but it wouldn’t fit in my luggage.
Hi Alyssa. I remember you. Thanks. It’s nice to hear that people like what I write. C.P. You know I like the way you think. The doll is my new role model. 2007? Hah! I forgot about the mask. I still have your book.
that doll looks exactly like the dolls the Brothers Quay used in The Street of Crocodiles.
Yes, it does look exactly like the tailors in Street of Crocodiles. Could be the same model of doll. Such a lush fascinating film.
He reminds me of Klaus Nomi. Sent back in time. Quay Brothers remix.
I have this doll! My mother gave it to me when I was a senior in college. It had been hers as a child. No idea where she got it from. Mine has eyes and hair, tho’ no clogs and has always been known as the little Dutch boy.
He does look a bit like Klaus Nomi.
Hi Anne. Does your doll have a hat? I was inspired by your comment to do an image search for dutch boy doll. This one is the closest match. He has his eyes, hair, hat, and shoes. It’s nice to know what he’s supposed to look like, although I still love my zen version.