This post and the preceding two posts are portraits of my grandmother's paper dolls. Shirley Temples. And her sisters. Many of the outfits are hand-drawn, colored with pencil or paint, and meticulously cut out. The store-bought versions are splendid, double-sided, with tiny tabs to fasten the 360 degree fashion plates onto the dolls. I am moved by the missing limbs, the duplicate outfits, and indeed, their survival in a cardboard shirt box. They are haunting, irresistible.
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