When we got home I google-imaged ‘Kewpie’ so that I could show hubby the likeness between daughter and doll. Instead of an “Oh right, now I see!”, a look of horror permeated every pore of my husband’s face as he contemplated the dodgy-ass doll that appeared on screen. His reaction: “Amelia does NOT look like that thing.”
Kewpie has a giant forehead and a knob of, what I think is, hair sprouting out the top and sides of her head. Her proportions seem all wrong; Kewpie’s head is huge and her limbs do not really match the melon that sits on her rather small, in fact non-existent, neck. The doll does look a tad deformed. One might understand why a doting daddy would take offence.
The Kewpie Doll is based on comical strip-like illustrations by Rose O’Neill that appeared in Ladies’ Home Journal in 1909. The small dolls were extremely popular in the early 1900s. Their name, often shortened to “Kewpies”, is derived from Cupid, the Roman god of beauty and non-platonic love. Although the toy manufacturers in Ohrdruf, Germany – the town where Kewpie was first created – did the best they could 100 years ago, Kewpie is a little… strange looking
I am not a fan of dolls, nevermind weirdo, out-of-proportion dolls dating back to 1900 that should be left for horror film directors to use and abuse. And after seeing Kewpie, my husband is, however, less of a fan than I am. Woe to the person who compares precious Amelia to a Kewpie, in which case I foresee the imminent release of Texas Chainsaw Massacre 3: The Death of the Kewpie Doll Caller.