As a little girl, I loved doll houses. You’ll find me in the toy shops, peering into the little windows of the doll houses. I wanted to see if the design and décor were detailed or was that doll house a mere façade. I would be thrilled if I saw miniature sofas, beds, tables… It would delight me even further if I saw pint-sized paintings on the walks, table lamps and pieces of clothing. I never had my own doll house though because my mum always said it’s better to save that money for my own house. A real one (I’m still saving…).
[click on images to enlarge]
As an adult, I find that I liked looking into opened windows and doors of houses. I enjoy the same thrill when I see that it’s a beautifully furnished house and I imagine what it’s like live in such a house. From there I would think about the people who lived inside—what kind of people are they, how their lives are like…. It’s a fun thing to do!
I never thought that my kiddish fascination with doll houses meant much. Surprising as it may sound, it’s only now when I decide to post about doll houses (after reading about it in passing) that I am able to connect the dots—my interest in interiors existed even when I was a child. It’s so blatantly clear but I just never put the two together.
[images top, left to right from Flickr photostream of: haraheart, Ian Dewar, em'lia, skoop102, haraheart, The Shopping Sherpa, Viche]