I wasn’t a huge doll lover and never owned a Barbie or Ken doll. To be honest I thought Barbie was over rated; even more so when my sister got the ‘Twist n Curl’ Barbie after she was diagnosed with Viral Meningitis. Clearly in our house we had to be on our death-bed to get anything remotely cool, so just not wanting them was easier than the disappointment of never receiving something that you really fucking wanted. I remember being so jealous of her. I hated that Barbie.
I owned a Crissy Doll though. She was almost as tall as me, with bright red hair that pulled out through a hole in her head to create a long pony tail. A string hanging out of her back was the cord that pulled her hair back in again. She was, in all honesty, the ONLY doll I ever owned. She looked even more beautiful after I painted her lips and nails with red nail polish. She was now Crissy the street-walker! Think I might have even cut her hair at one point, thinking that the hair machine I imagined lived in her head would grow more… I was wrong, so she donned a rocking water-fountain-hairstyle out the top of her head from then on. Something like the female mammoth on Ice Age…
I always wanted a Cabbage Patch Doll but never got one. My best friend did though. And I loved her like my own. After all, I was her Auntie. Chloe Elizabeth Goldsmith is 30 years old today, where ever she is… she was loaned to a niece and from memory and never came home. Kidnapped. I am sure if she still lived with her Mum we would be throwing a big PARTAY this weekend. Chloe seriously went everywhere with Caroline and I. She had her own pram, clothes, nappies, bottle, dummy and even a bouncer like the old wire and crotchet bouncers that we laid in. She used to come for drives with us to Cards and Bingo and any other random trip away from Clunes. We would strap her into the seat belt between us on the back seat. This one night on the way home from the Melbourne Show, we almost hit a sheep on the side of the road. We are going back some time here so my memory is being tested but I think there was one further up the road that had been hit earlier. As we sat in the car silent after seeing a bloodied squished sheep and almost hitting one, one of us muttered “Baa Splat”. Chloe sat in between us as we giggled our heads off. “Baa Splat” has forever been an in-house joke between Caroline, her mum and I. Oh the boredom of a trip to Melbourne pre the Western Freeway.
Chloe wasn’t always known as Chloe, she was actually called Venora Hilda… Hmm. Caroline insisted that she have a name change. No idea why.
I’m seriously not laughing at you Carol… Hang on, yes I am. Sorry. What a fucking terrible name to give a doll. Have you ever actually googled the given names of Vintage Cabbage Patch Dolls? I have.
Farica Scarlett Paola Paul
Babette Jocelyne Radford Jervis
Myra Hope Floyd Herb
Norine Marietta Landon Chauncey
Cherry Cathyleen Russ Sebastian
Laraine Cammie Denney Alex
Ariel Leila Derek Edric
Lucette Jacynth Sheldon Rex
Desirae Chandelle Richie Donald
Lanette Ariana Oscar Dick
Jovany Lincoln Milton Reece
So it seems that our poor Chloe Elizabeth aka Venora Hilda wasn’t alone. She had a whole generation of patch siblings with weird arse names. I wonder how many adopted parents changed their adopted patch child’s name? I know I certainly would have.
Happy 30th Birthday Chloe Elizabeth! I hope you’re shredding it up somewhere this weekend, chugging back a couple of schooners with a handful of beers nuts. I bet you even married a Patch Bloke, and I even bet he has a weird arse name like yours… Derek Chauncey sounds original and fucked up enough to be a Patch name. Perhaps you have had baby brussel sprouts by now and are living in a Patch Village in Brussels… Oh stop it Nom! Enough already with the cabbage jokes.
Happy Birthday Venora Hilda!
Make sure you turn the teapot twice clockwise and once anticlockwise!