Boo!

Hallowe'en is one of those holidays that I just don't get.  Sure, I understand its origins and I'm aware of how it works, but I've never been a huge Hallowe'en fan.

Of course, as a child I enjoyed putting on a costume and collecting candy.  However, every Hallowe'en of my childhood was so cold and snowy that I always had to wear a parka over my costume, mittens on my hands, and sometimes even a scarf wrapped around my face, which kind of killed the costume effect.  So I was really only in it for the candy.

My family was never big on Hallowe'en decorating either.  We had only two store-bought window decorations that I can recall -- a human skeleton and a hissing black cat.  I liked the cat just because I've always liked cats; I could take or leave the skeleton.  When we were tasked with creating Hallowe'en decorations during art class in school, those would also be taped to the window the year they were created, but never again after that (and trust me, this was a good thing).  Where I live now the kids don't go door-to-door trick or treating any more -- they gather for a group party at a local community club.  So there's really no point in putting up decorations in my area unless you just like to do so.

All of this may explain why, when Breyer and Stone come out with their flurry of Hallowe'en horses each October, I'm usually not the least little bit interested in them.  I have no desire whatsoever to bedeck my home with a Hallowe'en theme.  Usually.  But I have to admit that, for the last two years, I've almost caved in and bought Breyer's Classic-scale Hallowe'en horses.  With Bogeyman, they chose a mold I was fond of (although it was originally a mare and not a "man") and I liked the multi-coloured dripping paint effect they came up with for what I assume was supposed to be "goo."  With Salem, I very much liked the cat-shaped pinto pattern they came up with.  I thought the cats were very subtle, and the colour scheme reminded me a lot of Hamilton, the horse that came to stay.  I also liked the glow-in-the-dark effect which is apparently pretty intense on this horse.  However, I reined in my enthusiasm and held back from buying them both. 

(On a somewhat unrelated note, I'm betting next year's Hallowe'en Classic will be on the Malik mold -- perhaps something with a "hair-raising" theme.  I've noticed that ever since the release of Goblin in 2017, Breyer has put their Hallowe'en decorations on the previous year's Horse of the Year, so Malik would make sense for 2020).

The funny thing is that I was fairly certain that I'd never indulged in buying any Hallowe'en horse at all until I remembered the Trick or Treat Play Set of 2010.  Being a huge fan of Breyer's Traditional Shetland Pony, that set was a must-have for me.

I named the pony "Boo."  Remember, this was back in 2010, so I wasn't just copying the name of this year's Breyer Hallowe'en plush.  (I also have a Breyer named "Boo Radley," but that's another story).

Once out of his costume, "Boo" is one of the nicer Shetlands in my collection.  He's a very pretty blue roan with a sweet white face and a smattering of small sabino spots.  In his costume, he doesn't look like anything much, but it is a very cute costume all the same.  Although I've never set him up as a Hallowe'en decoration (since I don't do Hallowe'en decorations), I'm beginning to think that I should make some tiny candy bars to fill his bucket and try to set up some kind of scene with him -- just for the fun of it.  It's not going to happen this year, but next year, who knows?

For those of you who do love this holiday, I hope you have a happy Hallowe'en.  As for me, I think I'll just buy a couple of candy bars and let the rest of it pass me by.

The Mare with the Most

From time to time, Breyer offers model horses with some tempting extras.  Some come with extra accoutrements: ribbons, floral drapes, blankets, bridles and saddles.  Some come with a doll rider and some with a doll in addition to the tack or costume.  Some come with books; others come with movies.  Some come with extra "stories" in the form of hangtags or brochures.  Some even come with pedigrees.

It works the other way around too.  Sometimes it's the object that comes with extra Breyer horses (usually Stablemates): a stable, a truck, a game, a jigsaw puzzle, a compact disc, or an activity set.

The two Elegance Collection sets, Western and Dressage, each come with a wealth of stuff: a horse, a rider, tack, and a tack trunk.  But I don't think I've ever seen a pony come with as much stuff as Sergeant Reckless.

When ordered directly from Breyer you can get Reckless with a book, a blanket festooned with awards, and a set of six trading cards.  She even has her name, "Sgt. Reckless" stamped in gold on her belly -- something not at all common in regular runs.  All she needs is a Marine doll and a pack saddle to make her story complete.

The Sergeant Reckless set may not be as beautiful as either of the Elegance sets, but it certainly costs a lot less and gives you a considerable bang for your buck.

Looking at all the pictures that we have at her, I think Breyer did very well in selecting the Galiceño mold for her portrait.  It accurately represents her relatively small stature, her deep, narrow chest, sloping croup and low-set tail.  Her white markings are also accurately copied onto the model, and although there are no colour pictures of her in her book or on her cards, she was indeed a chestnut red enough to be called Flame-of-the-Morning by her original Korean owner.

Since I got my set in late May/early June I've been slogging my way through Sergeant Reckless's book.  It's not exactly a page-turner, but it is a great collection of facts about the little Korean ex-racehorse and the time she spent fighting with the American Marines.  She's only one of many military horses, both real (like the Horses in American History series) and fictional (like Joey, from the book, stage play, and movie War Horse) immortalized as a Breyer model, and yet in many ways her story is unique.

The most remarkable thing about Reckless's exploits -- the thing that is emphasized by the cover photo of her book and statues of her at the National Museum of the Marine Corps, Camp Pendleton, and the Kentucky Horse Park -- is the extent to which she performed her duties by herself, unguided by rope or rider.  Once she learned what it was the Marines wanted her to do, she just went to work and did it, in much the same way that delivery horses of old knew which houses to stop at along their drivers' routes.  The difference with Reckless is that she did it all under fire.

So perhaps, upon reflection, Sergeant Reckless doesn't really need a Marine to stand by her side.  If she didn't need one in real life, why in the world would she need one now?

Breyer's Clinky Contingent

With Breyer, it's always best to expect the unexpected.

Breyer has made many unforeseen moves in its nearly 70-year history, and I missed the beginning of most of them.  However, I'm proud to say that there was one I was in on from the start: Breyer's foray into clinky-dom, with the Breyer Gallery.

I wasn't actually all that impressed with the earliest efforts -- the so-called cold cast porcelains which debuted with Spotted Bear and Galaxias in 1991, followed quickly by Secretariat and Fashionably Late in 1992.  I actually saw some of these when they were still brand new, and I couldn't see the point in paying such (at-the-time) big bucks for what were essentially re-releases of existing molds.  They didn't even bother to change the colour on Secretariat, for heaven's sake.  Word went 'round really quickly, too, that they didn't stand up to much handling -- many arriving broken into the hands of those who ordered them.  Most, if not all, of them were SRs for American stores anyway, so I wasn't the least bit tempted by them, although I was intrigued by the concept.

Also in 1992, though, Breyer released their first fine porcelain horse: the Icelandic stallion sculpted by Kathleen Moody.  Now here was a horse who hit me where I lived.  Granted, his colours were a bit stark, but he was a brand new sculpture and his box pictured at least two more new sculptures to come.  And as a bonus, he was not at all difficult to get hold of.  Back in those days I used to travel into North Dakota quite frequently, and there he was sitting on a shelf in a Home of Economy store.  Easy peasy.

It was a love that couldn't last

I took a pass on 1993's Shire horse -- even then I was in danger of running out of shelf room.  But I fell hard for 1994's Spanish Barb and, despite my best intentions, even launched on a collection of the costumed porcelain horses with 1995's Arabian in Costume.

However, my Breyer porcelain collection stopped there temporarily.  I felt that 1996's Circus Ponies were a little washed out in colour, and 1996's Saddlebred turned out to be a little bit harder to get, and I had heard that portions of his costume were in fact plastic rather than porcelain.  1997's Great Horse was getting into shelf hog range again, and while I was briefly tempted by 1998's Indian Pony, the 1999 Drum Horse was another "no" for me.

Aside from the smaller pieces, like the Stablemates and the performing Misty, Breyer's porcelains didn't tempt me after that until a couple of years after the release of Giselle in 2008.  I first saw her in person at a live show and suddenly I knew that this was a horse I had to have.  But I'd missed out on her initial offering -- how on earth would I ever get one?

Model Horse $ales Pages to the rescue.  I couldn't believe my eyes when I found one for sale on those pages at a price comparable to her initial offering.  It wasn't long after that that she became mine.

My love just goes on and on

Since I have relatively few of the Breyer porcelains compared to the output that poured out of the factory post-1991, I can't positively say that Giselle is the best one they've ever made.  In my collection, though, she is the one I am head-over-heels in love with and the last that I'd ever let go.  The Spanish Barb is my second favourite, followed by the Icelandic who started it all.  The porcelain Arab is for sale, though.  She's still a fantastic sculpture, and has all the realistic tiny details that sold me on her in the first place, but since I don't have any other large clinkies wearing anything more than a halter, she simply doesn't fit into the collection as a whole.  I'm sure in time I'll find her a good home where she'll be really appreciated -- until then she's packed safely away in her original box awaiting her next trip.

Breyer hasn't really released a large free-standing porcelain horse since Killarney in 2012.  They've been concentrating on resins and crystals in the Gallery since then.

The clinky collector in me is still waiting for them to come out with some great new porcelains; it could happen.  Until then, I'm very happy with my little crew -- to me, they're some of the best that Breyer has to offer.

Hey Baby, What's Your Sign?

I don't have many decorators in my model horse collection, but one of my favourites is the Gemini horse from Breyer's Zodiac Series.

I think the Zodiac Series was a pretty cool idea.  Unlike its forerunner, the Blossoms Series, the Zodiac Series utilized 12 unique molds.  Sure, it had some misfires (like the laughable lobster masquerading as a crab on the Cancer horse) and I'm pretty sure it wasn't a big seller for Breyer since they eventually sold the entire collection, and then the individual horses, at deep discounts.  But some of the horses were pretty cool.

The horses chosen were a mixture of old molds and new.  That alone is what probably stopped me from considering getting the whole collection when the prices dropped.  You see, while I had very few of the newer molds, I had all I wanted of the older molds and wasn't looking to add to them.

But I did buy Gemini, simply because I really love that mold and it has seen so few releases.  The mold is based on the Best in Show Arabian, with the hair mane and tail replaced by plastic.  The original Best in Show and Onyx, available only at Breyer Fun Days, have been its only realistically coloured releases so far.  In fact, besides Gemini there has been only one other decorator release to date: the Breyerfest 2017 translucent Marigold.  So Gemini was actually the easiest of all the releases to get.

I don't know who sculpted Gemini.  He reminds me a bit of Carol Gaspar's work, but he could be a Kitty Cantrell too, given that she sculpted the Best in Show Thoroughbred.  Whoever sculpted him, I love what they did with him.  He's not particularly studly -- in fact, I thought he was meant to be a mare until I got my hands on him.  But I love the sweep of his mane and tail, his gentle yet eager expression, and his delightful dancer's pose. 

I have one more Zodiac horse in my collection as well:  Scorpio, done on the Morgan mare.  Having been used as the basis for four of the Blossoms horses, she has been released in almost as many decorator colours as realistic ones.  Scorpio was a horse I didn't choose -- I found her in one of the several Grab Bags I've ordered from Breyer over the years.  Still, it could have been worse.  I tend to prefer decorator colours that are close to real horse colours, so if I squint I could call Gemini a palomino or cremello, and Scorpio a dark red chestnut.  There are others in the Zodiac line-up that would work as well, like Capricorn (dun?), Aries (orange chestnut), Taurus (cinnamon chestnut), Cancer (grey), and Leo (golden chestnut).  All the rest take a little more than squinting to bring them into the real world.

There are now so many new Classic molds that Breyer could easily do another 12-month decorator series using just the latest releases -- perhaps something incorporating birthstones, or simple symbols associated with each of the 12 months.  I'd still be interested in seeing something like that, even though I'm extremely picky about my decorators.  However, Breyer waited three years between the Blossoms and the Zodiac Series, and I don't think either one was a big seller, so I'm not really expecting them to do it again.  But then again, Breyer is always confounding collectors' expectations.

I should note, perhaps, that neither Gemini nor Scorpio is my birth sign (although I have two Geminis in my family and I knew a Scorpio when I was a teenager).  So they don't really have any significance for me -- I just like them because I like them.  Since I only have the two they make a nice pair to display on one of my bookshelves.

In time, though, I may send them off to be repainted, or sell them outright, perhaps.  If I could do a trade, I would gladly swap Gemini for Onyx, and Scorpio for the Breyer Fun Days Marigold.  

All I can say is, at this moment, even I don't know what fate lies in their stars.

My Grandmother's Horse

There's a part of me that wants to say, "My grandmother's horse was too large for the shelf, so it stood 90 years on the floor." (Sorry for the earworm, those of you who know the tune).  Unfortunately, none of that is true except for this one point: my grandmother's horse was not on a shelf, but it stood somewhat fewer than 90 years on top of a television set.

Of course, I'm not talking about a real horse here, but a model one.  In fact, the horse in question was a Beswick foal, a first version #F836 in glossy bay to be specific, and in time it became my first Beswick.

I have vivid childhood memories of visiting my paternal grandmother and gazing raptly at the shining china horse perched on top of her massive old-fashioned television set.  It was within my reach, but I was strictly forbidden to touch it, let alone play with it.  It was not for touching, it was for gazing on in wonder, and I don't think I ever once visited my grandmother's house without checking to see that it was still there.

My grandmother's horse (now mine)

It wasn't hard to spot as my grandmother did not have a lot of knick-knacks or decorations in her house.  Her husband, a grandfather I never knew, was an artist and a sign painter by trade, so there was art on almost every wall.  But I can only clearly remember three other decorations scattered around the living room -- a small silver (possibly pewter) buffalo, a furry Ookpik, and a kind of puzzle sculpture made of wire and beads.  The puzzle was the only one I was allowed to touch.

My grandmother did have a few toys tucked away for visiting grandchildren to play with, but the only one I remember with any clarity was a marionette which I found too complicated to manipulate.  I think I may sometimes have been allowed to bring a few of my own toys from home to play with if the visit was going to be a long one.  But really, I got the most joy out of gazing at that Beswick foal.

My paternal grandmother was the first of the grandparents I knew to pass away.  My father became executor of her will, but as far as I can figure there wasn't much to it -- after all, she left very little behind.  I don't believe there were any special bequests for specific grandchildren.  However, once everything got sorted out, we were each given an opportunity to say if there was something we particularly wanted to have as a keepsake of our grandma.  And of course, I asked for the horse.

In the end I got the buffalo too, as no one else seemed to want him, but the little Beswick was immediately my most precious possession.

His war wound

He has a broken hind leg that's been kind of messily repaired.  He's had a broken hind leg for as long as I've known him.  I've no idea when it happened, or how, but suspect that sometime before I even came into the picture he took a tumble off the TV and was hastily glued back together.

I could get him professionally restored -- and I know just the person I could ask to do it -- but there's something holding me back from doing that.  To me, his unmistakable injury marks him as my grandmother's horse, still standing after all this time.

So my grandmother's horse now stands on my shelf -- may he stand there for many years more!

My First Breyer Story

I've told this story many times and many ways before, but I don't think I've told the full story here, yet.  Almost every model horse collector I know has some version of this story -- it's even become a feature on Breyer's Collector Club website called "My Collector Story."  It's the story of "how I got my first Breyer."

My story is a little bit different than most as I didn't get my first Breyer until I was already a young adult, despite being vaguely aware of Breyers since my pre-teen years.  I first encountered Breyers in a full-colour advertisement gracing the back pages of Horse Of Course! magazine, subtitled "The Magazine for People Who Like Horses."  The advertisement (like this one) featured stages in the production of the Breyer Fighting Stallion, line-drawn, and ended with a vision of a small "conga line" or shelf full of proudly rearing stallions.  For me, it was love at first sight.

I'd chosen the magazine from those in the rack at our local Greyhound bus depot to occupy me during a bus trip.  I can no longer remember where I was going that day, or why.  I just remember that once I got back home I could never find any issues of Horse Of Course! in any of our local drug stores.  It seemed like the newsagent at the bus depot was the only place to go to get a copy, and that was simply not a place my family and I ever went to except to either take or meet a Greyhound bus.

However, I soon became aware of Breyers in another out-of-the-way corner of my world -- in a hobby shop in a large mall practically at the other end of the city from where I lived.  My mother and I used to go there in December, as it was one of the best places to go Christmas shopping, and not long after the Horse Of Course! incident I found, tucked away in a corner of an otherwise dull hobby shop, a few actual Breyer horses.  This was in the picture box era, so all the horses themselves were hidden from the eye -- I had only their printed images to look upon.

At this stage in my life I had already read every horse book Marguerite Henry had written to date, so I was amazed to see models of Misty, Justin Morgan, and Brighty pictured on the boxes.  But I immediately got the wrong idea about Breyer from this:  because they had models of at least three of Henry's equine heroes, I assumed they had made models of them all.  Given how expensive the horses seemed to me then, I resolved to wait until I could somehow either purchase or get someone to buy me a model of Black Gold -- hero of my favourite Marguerite Henry book of all time (yes, I've always loved sad stories).

Little did I know that Breyer had not, in fact, produced a regular run model of Black Gold at that date, and would not until 2007.  We have no Montgomery Wards in Canada, so even if I had known about the idea of special runs I wouldn't have been able to order myself a Black Gold model in 1985, and by that time the hobby shop had closed its doors and I had simply gone on with my Breyer-less life.

My first collectors' manual

Until the summer of 1987.  I was doing some apartment-sitting for my sister that summer, and my route to and from work every day took me right past our large municipal public library.  One day I glanced inside and noticed a display of model horses in the front lobby. As soon as I could find the time, I went inside to check it out.

I don't remember now whether there were original finish (OF) Breyers in the display or not.  I do know that there was a customized horse there (what we then called an R/R/H for "repainted, repositioned, and haired") and a couple of issues of Breyer's Just About Horses magazine, one of them opened to a "how-to" page on customizing.  Now, I already knew by then that I had no artistic talent, but I liked attending classes and I thought perhaps the display was meant to promote a "how-to" model horse customizing class.  The woman who had set up the display had placed her business card throughout, so I jotted down the number and gave her a call.

It was a bit confusing at first.  The woman was not teaching a class -- she was a collector and a shower and had set up the display in order to publicize the hobby.  However, she knew where to get Breyers and could give me the names of people I could contact to find out more about the hobby in general and customizers in particular.  She suggested I come take a look at her collection to see what the hobby was all about.

I went, and saw, and because I did so I now have sympathy for every non-hobbyist who views a collection for the first time and doesn't know what to make of it.  That was sort of like me.  However, there were some bits and pieces I did recognize -- the woman actually had a very impressive collection of OF Breyers in addition to a handful of R/R/H pieces, and she had some Beswicks as well.  I had Beswicks, and I knew what Breyers were, and I was charmed by the idea of acquiring a large collection of them.  I might not have the talent or daring to undertake customization, but I could certainly collect.  I'd been a collector of one thing or another all of my life.

My first hobby guides: one by an American and one by a Canadian

I went away armed with a wealth of information.  I had addresses to write to for a sales catalog and to subscribe to Just About Horses.  I had addresses to write to for homemade guides to model horse showing, like Kathleen Maestas's "Basic Guide to Showing Model Horses."  And I had an address for a Canadian model horse registry and bi-monthly newsletter.

The picture that sold me on Silky Sullivan (note that Man O' War and Terrang are misidentified in the picture)

The address I was given for a sales catalog was the address for Bentley Sales Company in Des Plaines, Illinois.  They sent me a 1987 box brochure, and with it I decided to start off small.  I chose one of the Classic thoroughbreds as my very first Breyer.  I liked the Classic scale since it more or less matched the scale of the Beswicks I already had.

My first Breyer and the box he came in.

The horse I finally landed on was #603, Silky Sullivan.  At the time, I wasn't aware of his racing record.  I knew all about Man O' War and Ruffian, and had heard of Swaps and Kelso.  Silky Sullivan and Terrang were the only two I knew nothing about, but something about Silky's head-turned stance made him look slightly friendlier to me, so Silky it was.  In due time, he arrived, packed in a kind of updated version of the picture boxes of my past -- a kind of packaging that was just entering the waning stage as Breyer began making the move to plain yellow display and picture boxes for individual horses and gift sets around this time.

I named my Silky "Rum-Runner" at first, but when I went to enter him into the Canadian registry there was already another Rum-Runner in there and so he became, in time, "Rum-Runner Red."  He attended all of my first live show experiences, and although he was never a champion for me, he remains my first Breyer and my sentimental favourite.

Before there was Silky, there was virtually nothing -- just four Beswicks and a box of old Marx horses.  After Silky -- well, just as his box suggests, my collecting would "put on a burst of speed, passing the field so fast that the others seemed to be running in slow motion."

Clinky Crowd Pleasers

Most of the china horses that clinky collectors cherish come from hobby-oriented manufacturers like The Pour Horse, Horsing Around, Animal Artistry, Lakeshore, and others.  Possibly some of the most coveted are those that come directly from the studio of a hobby artist: Candace Liddy, Lynn Frayley, Adalee Valasquez Hude, Karen Gerhardt and others.  Collectors love these pieces because they are made with the collector in mind, and are usually produced as very limited production runs.

Then there are horses produced for well-heeled collectors, like Royal Worcesters, Royal Copenhagen, and Augarten Wein pieces.  Such pieces are not specifically aimed at the collector, but rather for the fan of the fine arts.  Collectors are attracted to the status of owning such creations, as well as to their beauty.

However, many mass market clinkies have a hold of collectors' hearts as well.  Hagen-Renaker's delicate ceramics go for big bucks on the secondary market, as do the older and rarer Beswick and Royal Doulton horses.

Perhaps the most affordable of the mass market chinas, because so many were produced, are the horses of The Franklin Mint, many of whom were sculpted by Pamela du Boulay.

Pamela du Boulay is an interesting model horse sculptor.  I wasn't able to find too much biographical information about her, but what does seem clear is that she started out doing latex Rydal model horses before transitioning through resin (her Horse with the Golden Saddle started life as a resin) to bronzes and the mass market chinas she created for The Franklin Mint.

The reason Ms. du Boulay's china sculptures are so reasonably priced these days may be directly related to the fact that they were produced for The Franklin Mint.  The Franklin Mint bills itself as a manufacturer of collectibles, but the very fact that its items are widely advertised and just as widely distributed, makes them anything but rare.  In fact, as is the case with every kind of collectible, any item manufactured specifically to be collectible, isn't.  Objects become desired collectibles once they are discovered to be rare, or to have been disposed of in large numbers while they were still relatively new (like all those lost childhood comic books and baseball cards, or tin toys tossed into wartime supply drives).  Coveted collectibles become so largely by accident, not by design.

So Pamela du Boulay's Franklin Mint horses were created for the crowd, not for the connoisseur.  Her smaller horses -- from the Noble Horse collection -- were even originally sold with their own curio shelf, ready for filling.  Her larger pieces were primarily sculptures of famous horses of film and literature: Black Beauty (with and without Merrylegs), My Friend Flicka, The Red Pony, Misty of Chincoteague, Fury, Silver, San Domingo, and the King of the Wind.  However, one of her most beautiful pieces was a pair of horses simply titled Racing the Wind, unrelated to any literary or pictorial antecedent.

All of the Franklin Mint horses have china bases, and sometimes the bases are a bit distracting --  when used to prop up a rearing or a running sculpture, for example, the horse's legs tend to get lost in the scenery.  This can be troubling to model horse collectors who are always looking for great conformation, but can be seen as a bonus for the casual consumer because the built up bases help to protect delicate legs from breakage.

As with all equine artists, Pamela du Boulay has a signature style.  Her horses tend to have a very Arab-y look to them -- with delicate bones and chiseled faces.  Where she has had to tamp down this style, as in the Noble Horse series, her sculptures tend toward a certain gawkiness in all but a few cases.  Next to Arabian-type horses, her most successful sculptures are her Lipizzaners, which she also manufactured for The Franklin Mint.

If you look on the bottom shelf you can see my Franklin Mint Red Pony, Flicka, Misty and Lipizzan

I don't like all of Pamela du Boulay's horses equally, but those that I do like, I love.  I've bought and sold a few of the Noble Horse sculptures in my time, though my issues with those had more to do with their paint jobs than with the sculptures themselves.  Among the larger horses, I've had the opportunity from time to time to purchase items like Black Beauty and Fury at very reasonable prices, but have rejected each because I felt that the bases ruined the overall look of the sculptures.

But I still have Flicka, Misty, the Red Pony, and the Noble Horse Lipizzan on my shelves, and I would be loath to part with any one of them.  Misty and the Lipizzan represent, in my opinion, two of du Boulay's more successful attempts to take the Arab out of the horse.  And while the "real" Flicka and Red Pony (Gabilan) were both ranch horses without any suggestion of Arabian blood in their respective books, on my shelves the two are part-breds, with plenty of Arab in the pedigree.

I remember, when I was younger, looking longingly at all The Franklin Mint ads in my mom's Reader's Digest, Woman's Day, Chatelaine, and Family Circle magazines.  Back then they seemed an unaffordable luxury, but now I've been able to purchase some of my favourites at bargain basement prices.  That's the plus side to coveting "collectibles" that don't hold their value -- you might not be able to afford them when you first find them, but sooner or later they might just come down to find you.

Tiny Toys, Big Fun

I first found out about the "World's Smallest" line of toys from one of Jennifer Buxton's posts from last July.  Having grown up with Gumby and Pokey, I could not resist the miniature versions and, like Jennifer, I was charmed by the idea of teeny tiny My Little Ponies.  

My "World's Smallest" treasures

My sets arrived this Thursday and I haven't really stopped obsessing over them since.

"World's Smallest" are manufactured in China for a company called Super Impulse -- possibly the most fitting brand name I've ever come across.  There are actually six petite My Little Ponies to collect (Butterscotch and Snuzzle, Minty and Firefly, and Blue Belle and Cotton Candy), but with two in a package one set was good enough for me.  Turns out that they are made of hard plastic -- not squishy like the full-size ones -- but otherwise they mimic their larger counterparts quite capably.

As for Pokey: before he arrived I wasn't convinced that he would in fact be the "world's smallest" Pokey.  As I said, I grew up with Gumby and Pokey and I had two sets of them -- the full size version and the miniature version.  Over the years the wires that made them flexible broke, and the only survivor of my original quartet is the miniature Pokey.  Would the "world's smallest" Pokey be tinier than my old fellow?  Well, you can see for yourself.

Miniature Pokey and World's Smallest Pokey (the Mini Whinny is there for scale)

Pokey is poseable, filled with tiny versions of the same wires that wore out so often on my old toys.  Gumby is the same:  flexible and wiry.  Like the originals, I suspect that too much use will eventually snap the wires on both Gumby and Pokey.  But these ones are more for ogling than for playing, so I'm fairly confident that they'll last a little while.

I'm not really sure what I'm going to do with my new toys, other than admire their appealing puniness.  I know a lot of clever performance showers out there will find ways to work them into a scene of some sort -- they're perhaps not quite in scale with the 1:9 inch scale of Breyer Traditional horses and dolls, but I'm sure some leeway could be granted for a particularly clever scene.

 

The only doll I had handy was a Classic rider, but she and the Mini Whinny should give you a good gauge for scale.

But that's not why I bought them.  I bought them because I found them irresistibly cute, and that cuteness engaged my super impulse buying power, with the result that three new plastic ponies have now been added to my miscellaneous pony herd.

Gift Horses

When I wrote about the blue horses in my collection the other day, I forgot one.  It was an easy error to make, though, since the horse in question is not one I consider to be one of my "herd," but rather one of the unnamed horses I have scattered about my living quarters for home decor.

The blue horse, and his other brightly coloured buddies, are part of a set of horses known as the "Emperor's Horses" or "The Eight Horses of Wang Mu."  As the name suggests, there are usually eight horses in the set, each in a unique position.  They're commonly available in glazed white ceramic, but have been manufactured in a wide variety of media, including ivory, jade, terra cotta, wood, resin, cloth, and plastic.

As you can tell, mine have been through the wars.  Many of them have multiple breaks, and few have remained unscathed.  I've no idea how old they really are -- they were a gift from my cousin who got them from a friend of hers who, my cousin said, had had the horses for a long time.

I've seen others, apparently from the same set, on eBay once or twice and the sellers seem to think they're probably from the '50s or '60s, which seems about right.  If I had to guess, I'd peg them as being from the '60s, at a time when wild "far-out" colours were all the rage.

My cousin has been a real supporter of my hobby over the years and has gifted me with other horses gathered from her travels around the world.  They're all home decor items -- not the type I normally collect -- but I never look a gift horse in the mouth.  In fact, I appreciate gift horses more than I can say.

There have been a number of people in my life who have not really understood my hobby, but have gifted me with horse-shaped objects anyway.  This is unbelievably sweet of them.  I've also received gifts from hobby friends who know my preferences and have gone out of their way to find something they know I'd like.  I feel humbled by all such gifts.

Now I won't lie -- from time to time I've had to pass a gift horse on to new owners.  Like many model horse collectors, I often find space at a premium and I need to re-home horses that don't quite match my collecting obsessions in order to make space for those that do.  But that doesn't mean that I'll ever forget those gifts, or the thoughtfulness and generosity of the people who gave them.

Ours can be a difficult hobby to understand, but whether or not they "get it," when others gift us with horses they're giving us more than they know.  They're giving us joy -- not just in the horse-shaped object itself, but in our own good fortune in having such loving friends and family.

They're the true blue ones, and anyone with a lick of horse sense knows the true value of having such people in one's life.