I’ve talked before in earlier posts about the wonderful, enigmatic Rosie. But who is she? And why does she deserve a spectacular cinderella dress?
Rosie bombed into our lives when I realised that I needed some sort of display effort for my first ever craft fair. I needed a model who wouldn’t whinge or dash off somewhere, or leave inexplicable stains on my clothes. I spent weeks scouring the web looking for a mannequin who fit my budget. The budget being critically defined as “the less the better”.
Mannequins are not cheap!! Even those of the baby variety command more wonga than I was prepared to part with, so eBay it was. After a few weeks and sore, itchy, dry laptop-boggled eyes, I found her. Only a fiver plus delivery. The photo was a bit unflattering (I’m being polite) but at that price, well, she had to be mine.
Following a few courier issues, two weeks later she arrived. In a big cardboard box. With two children almost as excited as me, I ripped into the lid and revealed……..well it looked like the aftermath of an horrific murder minus the blood. As my friend put it: “Oh my god, call an ambulance!!!”. Poor Rosie had been horribly bent in all manner of ways to fit in the box and it hadn’t done her any favours.
Once liberated and roughly straightened out, I came face-to-neck-stump with my new charge. She had the appearance of one who might have been repeatedly run over by a truck. From that moment on, she was Roadkill Rosie.
“Hmmm” said my 7-yr-old, “Where’s her head?”
This was set to become a recurring question. We had numerous attempts at cranium recreation but I think she does just fine without. After all, I didn’t buy her for her brains.
Him Indoors became unnaturally fixated with her rather grubby appearance. It’s true that she was well in need of being introduced to the washing machine, but with less than a week to go until the craft fair, I was reluctant to dismantle her for fear of something going hideously wrong. Despite my reservations, Him Indoors set about unstuffing Rosie (I have photos of this but have been issued with strict instructions that they are not for public display!).
She was promptly washed and reassembled whilst I peered anxiously through my fingers. Quite how he managed to get her looking the same as she did before with a carrier bag full of stuffing left over I’ll never know, but we’ll call the experience a success nonetheless.
Now she sits patiently waiting for her cinderella dress and freaks me out by lurking in the corner of the room. At least she can’t give me the evil eye.