Lorraine Robinson is 54 and a self-proclaimed "absolute nutter" and addict for the Blythe doll.
"I never go anywhere without taking my girls. I take them everywhere. We go on holidays, we have lots of adventures. I take photographs and then share them with the Blythe community on social media," she said.
"I set out with the intention of having one doll. Then I thought maybe I should have three because I have three girls myself, so three dolls to represent my three girls."
After only a few years she now owns 14 Blythe dolls and, as far as doll collecting goes, that's a small assembly.
Like many other women her age Ms Robinson was introduced to the Blythe doll phenomenon via Instagram when she came across photographs of stylised dolls staged to tell a story.
"If you love the social aspect, if you love to be a little bit different, if you just love taking photos telling stories, go for it!
Who said as we grow up, we have to be grown up? Why can't we play?
Big eyes, big bucks
Blythe dolls go back to the early 1970s when designer Allison Katzman worked with the now-defunct American toy company, Kenner.
Loosely based on Margaret Keane's 1960s 'big eyes' paintings, the dolls were deemed too scary for children and were discontinued after only one year.
But in 2001 Gina Garan re-discovered Kenner dolls, started photographing and exhibiting them, and created a phenomenon in an untapped market.
These days an original Kenner Blythe doll can set you back thousands of dollars but those who are not willing to part with the big bucks can still play by purchasing a Takara or a 'fake' and having them customised.
At the same time that Ms Garan was exhibiting her photos, a toy company in Japan, Takara, started producing and releasing new doll designs based on the Kenner model, each month. These dolls range from around $280 to $350 each.
A factory 'fake' Blythe doll, which looks exactly the same as a Takara doll, can set you back anywhere from $40 to $400 but customisation is not cheap and often owners spend hundreds more personalising their dolls.
Because of the cost, the phenomenon is especially popular with middle-aged women.
"Self-indulgent? Absolutely. Will I do it for a long time? Absolutely. Am I sad about it? Hell no! It's the best thing I've ever started doing. It's my time. I've worked hard all my life," Ms Robinson said.
"My children have had a lot of things throughout their life — this is my time.
"Spending money on my dolls is my thing … I don't smoke, I don't do drugs, I don't really do clothes for myself, but I spend hours in my dolly room looking at dresses, putting new outfits on them and then taking photos — there's just so much joy in it."
Customising cuteness
Customised dolls are crafted all over the world and, interestingly, you can see which country they come from by their hand-carved facial features. Lorraine has dolls from Helsinki, Ukraine, England, and Australia.
"I'm a freak when it comes to customised Blythes," Ms Robinson said.
"Fantastic artisans around Australia and across the world get a factory Blythe and customise the hair colour, the eye colour and often carve the plastic face to sculpt an entirely new look for the doll."
Often the face plate is carved in such a way as to enhance visual characteristics such as adding a little smirk, baby lips, and occasionally teeth, embracing the cute aspects of the dopey-eyed baby doll's appearance.
Fake and original dolls have one common feature — a string coming out of the back of their head. When you pull this string the eye lids close and when you release it the eye lids open again revealing a different set of eye chips. Over a period of four clicks they can look forward, left, right and forward again, each position with its own colour set.
Over the past few years Ms Robinson has watched 'customisers' go from strength to strength and, like any market where demand is high, supply can become very exclusive.
It's a worldwide community
Sydney-based Naomi Abel is a Blythe doll 'customiser' who has been working in the industry for four years. It's a competitive market and her passion is finessing the dolls' personality.
"It's interesting because I can go online and watch the people who have got a doll made by me and they might get little fishing rods and take it to the river, set up a whole scene with miniatures and then share it," she said.
She's made a lot of friends doing this work.
"Every now and then I catch up with people at doll meets. It's really enjoyable. People bring their dolls. They range so much in price and I can't afford to buy the expensive ones, so it's nice to see them in real life," Ms Abel said.
Lorraine Robinson agreed that community engagement was a highlight of the hobby.
"The community is absolutely impressive. You get to know these people like they are your best friend ever. You have the likes that they do and the dislikes, and you chat to them like you've known them your entire life. You've never met them. You'd walk past them in the street," she said.
Lynda Wake, a member of the NSW Doll Collectors' Club, frequently presents on the topic of dolls. She believed Barbie and Blythe dolls were actually going up in value rather than going down.
"Along with Barbie, Blythes resonate with people of a certain age, around the 50s and 60s," she said.
"In terms of the doll industry we are probably idealising our lives. We are using dolls as a way of living out fantasies.
"That's what Ruth Handler meant when she created Barbie. It was to actualise our life, to be something that we couldn't be in real life."
Ms Robinson thinks it's important to let your hair down, and just enjoy the hobby.
"You've got to decide that it doesn't matter what other people think," she said.
"At the end of the day I'm a grown woman playing with dollies and I'm really comfortable with that."
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