Pam’s Pictorama Toy Post: Picking up where I left off last week, a Pictorama cliff hanger first (can be found here), today I present Puffie. Those of you who have followed me over the course of my collecting know that I have a keen weakness for these somewhat obscure dolls and the sight of one I do not own, let alone have not seen, makes me a bit daffy. Puffie is one such toy, coming in an original box no less, which set my collecting senses a-tingle – more like ablaze! Caution thrown to the wind I snatched him up recently on eBay.
In the zoology of Aesop’s Fable dolls, he appears to be more of a bear according to the illustrations, as shown on the box below. In my opinion he doesn’t resemble his drawn self especially however. Anyone have any thoughts to enlighten me on this?
Oh joy! He has his tag! Attached to a bright red ribbon as shown above it reads, I’m “Puffie” See my pals in the Aesop’s Fables Films and in a child’s hand in pencil EDGAR WIGHT is neatly printed. Let me tell you, Edgar took very good care of his toys. Unlike my other Aesop’s Fable dolls, Puffie has his W.R. Woodard Co. stamps on the bottoms of both feet. He sports the stick-on black eyes, not pie-eyes in his case. His ears are brown, at first I thought they had faded to that color, but that isn’t the case when I look more closely. I very much like the detail of a line of red in his mouth. I love his little blue trousers with the one strap holding them up and his stubby tail sticks out the back.
It is remarkable for the first time to see one of these dolls pretty much as it must have looked when it arrived under a Christmas tree in 1929 or ’30, almost 90 years ago. You might think that given my prediction for preserved toys that I was the kind of child who took exceptionally good care of mine. I did not. I mean, it wasn’t like I was especially abusive, but it really would not have occurred to me to keep a toy’s box (maybe with rare exception) let alone tag. My toys were played with and if anything excessively loved, worn down along the edges from being dragged around with me and tucked into bed nightly. Still, for all of that, I am so very glad that somewhere all those years ago, Edgar Wight was very different from me.