A Wellspring of Bisque upon Wicker

With you, I should like to share my felicitous finds from the previous weekend.

A prize baby, I have won, without my ringing milk bottles and brandishing a parlour gun. The antique mignonette, wearing the Kestner blue-banded socks and her original cork pate, bears bashful, erubescent cheeks and cerulean sleep eyes. The prized possession of a woman ninety-three years of age--a gift from her benevolent, loving mother--was adopted by me: an unaffiliated member of posterity. As I had mentioned my collecting and selling vintage and antique items to two friends of the family, I reassured the woman's daughters the doll, and several other items I had purchased from their mother's estate, are to remain in my possession.

In a forthcoming post, I shall share--from the same estate--an exceptional piece of late-1920s Graf Zeppelin ephemera.

The pallid, blonde-haired mignonette is, albeit unmarked, likely a Limbach doll. He, the Red Cross frozen Charlotte, and the atramentous, red-nosed Hertwig cat--missing the tube of his top hat--are recent eBay purchases.