When I was about five years old, my father bought me my first comic. It was called Twinkle (which ran from 1968-1999) and came out weekly. I thought it was wonderful. Dad had a paper delivered daily and set up a weekly order for Twinkle as I was so taken with it. I loved the idea of comic strip stories and there were also puzzles to do. I couldn’t read very well, so Mum read me the stories. I could follow her words because there were pictures and I remember being completely enthralled by Witch Winkle and Patty Pickle.
But there was also a page with a cut-out doll, with cut-out clothes to dress her in. I thought it was brilliant. Mum cut out them all out and then I placed the clothes on the paper doll. When I found out there was a cut-out doll and clothes in each issue, I was in heaven.
I was a patient child and made sure all the stories had been read each week and all the puzzles done before Mum started cutting the dolls and clothes out. I can remember lining them up and making up stories for them, according to the clothes I chose for them to wear. Twinkle comic really was the start of my love affair with cut-out dolls.
When Twinkle became too young for me, I moved on to Bunty magazine (it first came out in 1958 and ceased publication in 2001). It had the same, comic-strip format and featured characters I fell in love with. The Four Marys and Penny’s Place were amongst my favourites.
But, there was trouble ahead. One of my friends also had Bunty and told me I couldn’t have it any more. She wanted me to have Mandy comic instead. She saw Bunty as being her comic, so it couldn’t be mine, too. Before I’d opted for Bunty as my new comic of choice, I’d made sure there was a cut-out doll inside. Mandy didn’t have one, so there was no way I was having that instead of Bunty. My friend was not impressed. I can’t quite remember how it was resolved. Perhaps our mothers sorted it out or maybe we sorted it out for ourselves as I stuck to my guns and had Bunty each week. Later I found out my friend had decided she preferred Mandy after all!
I enjoyed Bunty for many years – the cut-out doll, or to give it its proper name ‘Bunty’s Cut-Out Wardrobe’, in each week’s issue was the highlight.
I don’t know what it was about the cut-out dolls that I loved so much. I’d always enjoyed playing with dolls’ houses and figures and making up stories. I had a Sindy doll, but she only had a couple of outfits so perhaps that was it. Here was this young girl, albeit a paper one, with a different wardrobe every week. Money was tight in the 70s and I didn’t often have new clothes myself so that may also have been part of the appeal. Additionally, I was fascinated by the tabs on the clothes, which you had to fold around the doll (just squares of paper but to me they were ingenious).
When I went to France with the school, we were allowed a little bit of pocket money to spend on a souvenir. And what did I buy? An ornament, notebook or keyring featuring a French landmark? No, I bought a book of cut-out dolls! But they were very special cut-out dolls – there were four of them and their clothes were in the form of slim notebook pages, with pages and pages of clothes to choose from. I didn’t have any scissors with me and I couldn’t wait to get back home and play with them.
When I reached secondary school, I soon found out that comics like Bunty and paper dolls weren’t part of the other girls’ lives; it just wasn’t considered acceptable or cool to like either. So my love affair with Bunty and cut-out dolls was over.
When I had my daughter, I hoped she would share my enjoyment of cut-out dolls, but alas, she didn’t. They have so many more things to keep them entertained these days. But I often wish I’d kept my cut-out doll collection, just to reminisce now and then. I do, however, have a Bunty annual from 1978 – with its cut-out doll still intact! It’s also a special one – you colour it in yourself. I’m not sure why I missed that one, but it gives me many happy memories of hours spent choosing paper dolls’ wardrobes. Perhaps I’ll go and get the felt-tip pens and scissors…
Esther Chilton 
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