The first thing that hint you as you scurry into my apartment from the cold is the scent of Flair.
Each bottle of fabric softener smells like a garden crime scene in which roses have been massacred. Such carnage. Much Flair. So ow my eyes and senses.
I avoid scented products…but doll wigs and doll hair have brought fabric softeners to my kitchen and the scent might never leave.
Currently the doorway to my dance room is the doll drying and triage center.
Chubby Moana is now starting her new life as a wee goth child.
Ariel’s hair was easily combed and lightly washed and conditioned. I’m not sure what I’ll make her into yet, but I’ve popped her into one of the dresses I’d made for Snow. I don’t need a bunch of naked baby dolls staring at me apartment decor.
Belle, Thinner Moana and Lilo have gone through rounds of fabric softener, combing, and curses.
Between jobs today I put Lilo’s hair in 100¥ shop curlers. I really needed more clips but all my bobby pins are currently hiding. They are waiting for me to buy more at which point they’ll flood my floors and pockets.
I attempted a boil perm (dipping her curlered hair into boiled water for 30 seconds) and now must leave her to dry for days.
I’m 42 years old and my ikea drying rack has become a doll day spa.