One Sunday morning

This morning three little boys woke from a sleepover with all the fanfare of morning mixed with lack of sleep. Between this excitement, the hanging of clothes on the line, washing up and 2 cups of tea, this little lady was born. Vintage kimono silk, alpaca, vintage glass beads, lace from my Grandmother, dried poppies from Mum’s garden, kookaburra and eagle feathers. She also has a collar crocheted with thread I bought in Beechworth (Victoria, Australia). The thread had originally come from a brocante (second hand and old-wares store) in Tours, a town right near the village where I grew up in France. These gifts appear in the strangest of places and give each doll a beginning rich in history. 

Her face is about to be stitched.




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