Free People does not actually call this dress, “babydoll,” however the shape that this is could not be anything else, in my humble little gnome opinion.
I was on the fence about keeping this dress, because I had also gotten the dress in this post and I try, oh how I try, not to be a glutton. But I kept taking it out of the return box and caressing it until finally it felt weird to send back a dress that I had touched so many times. I’m not that kind of girl.
Speaking of baby dolls, I have to admit to being terrified of them (ahem, gnomes being completely different). When I was a child of eight years old, I had a Cabbage Patch Doll I named Mary. I had begged Santa for a Cabbage Patch Doll that year, the ones I had seen on t.v…. With hair. And clothes… And chubby cuteness.
I was rather surprised when I opened up Mary on Christmas day to find a withered up little thing staring at me from the box. She was a premie Cabbage Patch Kid. She was ugly. She was scary. However, she was the only one that I had and so I loved her. I played with her for years, but always in the back of my mind, was sorrow over not having a “real” Cabbage Patch Kid. Always she was not perfect. Regret swallowed her strange little head.
I do not know what happened to Mary. Perhaps this is for the best. Otherwise I would have felt obligated to give her to my own daughter and the generational Mary duty would have continued. In fact, my daughter had no interest in baby dolls. It was not a fad while she was growing up. She did have every single Kelly doll ever made (thanks to an aunt who loved Barbie) which I regret donating many years ago.
There was one doll I purchased for my daughter… It was a cute little baby. A sweet face… Whose body was made from some sort of water vessel. This meant she weighed one trillion pounds. She was dressed in… Wait for this. It is a doozy. She was dressed in an Eeyore suit from Winnie The Pooh and even had the hoodie with donkey ears attached. I do not know what I must have been thinking the day I purchased that doll.
She played with it for a bit… And then it disappeared. I know. It could be anywhere. I am worried I will open up her closet one day to find the Eeyore baby staring at me from the depths of the closet. Its water body having slowly oozed out of the Eeyore suit to form a wretched smell. A gooey film clinging to its body as it stares at me accusingly.
How do I always manage to get so off track?
Do you own any babydoll dresses? Or baby dolls? Or warped Eeyore water babies languishing in your closet plotting your doom? I am hoping I can only answer “yes” to one of those questions.