The Secret Life of a Mid Century Modern Dollhouse: Here Comes the Bride

1961, Vintage Wedding Dress, Barbie, “Bride’s Dream”

Hunca Munca hung by the hem of the wedding dress, caught on a nail on the dollhouse window ledge.

She swayed to and fro, yelping, wildly waving her paws in distress. She could hear a car (humans!) in the driveway outside.

“Tom Thumb! Help me! Help me!” she screamed.

Her husband, Tom Thumb, stared at her helplessly. He was carrying a miniature telephone, that he lifted from the dollhouse’s library. He dropped it immediately.

Tom Thumb, a mouse, didn’t quite know how to help his wife, also a mouse. The humans were outside. The door would creak open at any moment.

He flung himself onto the table where the dollhouse was set, missing Hunca Munca by a fraction of an inch.

The door creaked open. Heart pumping, Tom Thumb jumped again, this time grasping Hunca Munca’s paw. He yanked her down, ripping the wedding dress, which had once been worn by Barbie (the doll) and packed away in tissues in the dollhouse attic. Hunca Munca hadn’t been able to resist trying on the dress.

The two looked briefly at the shredded lace still on the nail. Hunca Munca winced looking at the ripped dress train.

“We need to run!”

The two ran as if a huskie were chasing them. They scampered as if a siamese cat were hot on their trail, a housewife with a broom was beating them down, eager to flush them down a toilet.

Tripping over the dress, Hunca Munca gripped Tom Thumb’s paw as if her life depended on it, well, because it kind of did.

The two raced to their hole underneath the kitchen cabinet. Just in the nick of time as they hear the commotion of humans returning from church.

“Mommy, look at what happened to Barbie’s dress!” could be heard above the din.

And, “Sally, it must have been a mouse. Remind me to buy a trap the next time I’m at the hardware store next week.”

….to be continued soon. 

The Secret Life of a Mid Century Modern Dollhouse: All That Glitters

Miniature Eames Lounge Chair & Ottoman by Vitra

Hunca Munca was known for her penchant for shiny, bright objects. Anything and all that glitters.

She collected dollhouse-sized pie and cupcake tins, tiny bits of colored foil from Hershey kisses. Everyone knew and teased her about her hobby.

Until one day, her husband Tom Thumb, a mouse, spotted his wife wearing an unusual necklace.

He peered closely. “Why are you wearing a rosary?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Is that what this is? Hunca Munca said, pawing the beads. “I had no idea. I just thought it was a pretty necklace. Looks like diamonds. You know, diamonds are a mouse’s best friend.”

Tom Thumb harrumped. Where did she get the rosary? Hunca replied nonchalantly: Barbie’s jewelry box.

“Well, you need to return that right away,” he snapped. “That doesn’t belong to you, somebody made that and sooner or later someone will notice it’s missing.”

Hunca Munca laughed. “I will return it, eventually,” she said. “It’s not like Barbie can pray. She’s just a doll.”

“The rosary is the greatest weapon against evil! It  will convert the souls in the Soviet Union!” Tom Thumb roared, surprising enough himself.

“Well, I had no idea you felt this way,” his wife said, taken aback. “When did you convert to Catholicism?”

Tom Thumb said he hadn’t, it was something he had heard the people in the household say while they prayed in the living room. They were deeply worried about the Soviet Union detonating a nuclear bomb on the U.S. Everyone worried about it.

“It why people drink and smoke so much,” he observed. “They’re worried about what the Commies in the USSR are going to do to the U.S.”

“Praying will make a difference?

“I guess,” Tom Thumb said, shrugging his shoulders. He lit his corncob pipe, settled into his miniature Eames lounge chair & ottoman by the fireplace, the chair he was borrowing from the dollhouse .

A few minutes passed.

“I wish we could pray,” Hunca Munca said somberly.

“Well, we can starting right now,” he said, reaching for the rosary around his wife’s neck.

The delicate thing broke, Hunca Munca gasped and burst into tears.

“You broke my necklace. How can I return it now? We’re certainly going to get bombed by the Soviets now!”

“Not if we can help it. We must pray!”

Just then a nearby village siren began to wail, warning of an impending air attack.