The Troll Doll Channel: 💗TROLL WEDDING MARCH!💙

Two of my favorite Dam trolls renew their vows (for perhaps the 15th time!). 

New girl in town: trolls 'n dolls in Trollandia

 

DAM! These trolls are creepy!

 

The Troll Doll Channel: Welcome to the family!

My trolls are a great comfort to me now. I'm in my second childhood, which is a damn sight better than the first one.

The Troll Doll Channel: TREASURE TROVE! SIX new Dams in costume!

The Troll Doll Channel: DAM, I love these trolls!

Sharing a little bit of one of my favorite hobbies, which I hope YouTube doesn't take away from me. I have over 700  subscribers now, and though many have 7 MILLION, to have any at all is gratifying for me. It is so easy to get caught up in numbers as a source of personal worth. I don't know what the future will bring. 2020 SEEMS lucky, but is anything really lucky? I remember all those zeroes in 2000, but it was 2001, the actual start of the millennium, when everything changed forever, and a terrible ugliness was born. Please, God, if you're there, save us from this! Meantime, I will try to enjoy my ever-burgeoning collection.

Hippie troll animation

A Dam-sel in distress

Troll makeover: trollies a-go-go!

Trolls being used to sell a line of makeup. Not sure what the deal was here, because this was meant as a tie-in to the Dreamworks animated movie Trolls. The so-called "trolls" in this movie looked like insects from someone's nightmare, nothing remotely like any kind of troll ever made. And yet, it was the Thomas Dam company who sold them the rights. Even stranger are the kind of trolls used here, whoring for M. A. C. cosmetics against their will. These are called Dark Horse trolls, and they were made under license from Thomas Dam  for only a few years. They were sold mainly at Comicon-type conventions and at comic book stores. They look like no trolls ever seen, with bizarre flourescent colors, sparkles embedded in the vinyl, fur-covered skin like velvet, metallics, and other odd un-troll-like effects.  

I thought, naturally, with all this troll hoop-la, if you actually bought some of these cosmetics, you'd either get a free troll (free troll. . . mmmmmm) or at least have the opportunity to buy one. These are, after all, relatively rare specimens, though a few are still floating around eBay. But no. There are pictures of trolls on the labels, but it makes no sense, because what does this have to do with eyeliner and lipstick and 47 shades of nail polish? Why even buy that junk at premium prices, unless it comes with a troll? 

There is a good side to this, as there is to some things. The M. A. C. video had some troll makeover/trolls a-go-go snippets in it which made a VERY groovy gif. I used just the best parts. 

Trolls! Trolls! Everyone trolls!

Trolls. Trolls! So when did this addiction start? I don't know, and I don't particularly care. How many trolls do I have? I don't count them. What are the names? Only half a dozen or so have names, and I tend to forget them anyway.

Am I attached to my trolls? As much as I'd be attached to a living thing, a pet, or at least a plant.

They are comforting to me, and sometimes I truly need comforting and can't find it anywhere else. These two lovelies are the ones I ordered from Etsy recently and haven't received yet. And I was going to just be happy and wait for them, and then. . . 

I shouldn't have gone on eBay, I know. My cat tries to get me to stop.

But somehow, it never works.

I think the vendor of these trolls either has NO idea how much they are actually worth, or is salting her shop with incredible bargains to draw people in, as most stores do.

But here. 

BEHOLD!

The thing you have to realize is that I live in Canada, so trolls will cost me easily twice what they are in the States. Shipping and handling is ludicrous, often much more than what the troll costs (even for tiny ones that weigh a few grams). And this set of three, all told, was $57.00 in Canadian dollars. 

Any one of these large-sized (7", 8" and 9") beauties could command a couple of hundred in this country, given the pristine shape they're in. There is not much in the way of clothes, but I provide those, handmade with love and tailored to fit. Troll outfits are seldom very impressive unless you get those fancy custom-made ones from Etsy vendors such as Lucretia's Lair, and they'll run you $50.00 each (plus $65.00 shipping and handling).

The hair is in particularly good shape in this group, and the orange hair is gorgeous, a rare colour, and might even be a mohair replacement which would up the value by at least another $20.00 or $30.00. I only have one other mohair troll, and though he's totally lovely, there are flaws in the vinyl that would likely cut his market value in half.

So. . . sigh. More trolls. I had to buy them before someone else snapped them up, which has happened to me more times than I can count. I need something to make me feel better, I guess, as I wander through this wilderness alone.

I do troll box openings on YouTube which command the usual one (or zero) views, but I guess I do them for myself, and because I desperately needed a fulfilling hobby once the grandkids became adolescents and Grandma was no longer "cool".

Trolls take me back to the very best year of my life: 1964, when everything happened for me. The Beatles came on the Ed Sullivan Show for the first time on my tenth birthday. My Dad gave me a horse. (Yes, a horse.) I was in an accelerated Grade 5 class in school which was total mayhem, a 1960s educational experiment in which nobody learned anything all year and the teacher had a nervous breaktown by Christmas. Sheer bliss! I also stopped taking violin lessons, which was like having a thousand pounds of chains slide off my shoulders.

And - trolls. There were trolls. Two close friends also had troll fever, and it cemented the bond between us and made it magical.

Trolls aren't like Barbies or Cabbage Patch Kids or ANY other doll. Even calling them dolls doesn't seem to fit. They have a spooky, slightly creepy quality that some people frankly hate, but that makes them all the more appealing to me.

So I have FIVE trolls coming, five times the excitement, five times the bliss! 

I WANT THIS TROLL!

I. Want. This. Troll.

Don't ever start a collection, of anything, or this will happen.

What happened was - I don't know if I want to go back that far! Let's say I had a troll collection already, but somehow it was never complete. I felt guilty about every purchase I made, since we're on a very modest budget all the time.

AND THEN.

And then, today, rummaging in my wallet for my bus pass, I spied - a cheque. It had my name on it. I had almost forgotten I had it! And it had a tasty amount on it, too, very tasty.

The Canada Council for the Arts had sent it to me, not for a specific work but for contributing to "the arts" through publishing three novels and writing approximately 300 book reviews and over a thousand newspaper columns over a substantial period of time.

Pay.

I don't get pay from too many other sources. It also delighted me because it easily covered ALL my trolls, most of them costing five bucks and none of them more than forty (most of that being postage and handling).

I couldn't think of anything more apt than covering the cost of all my trolls with my Canada Council cheque. But do you realize what this means??

That's right. We're square, and I can once more feel guilty lusting after new trolls, looking on PicClick (an eBay search site) late into the night. My last "big guy" was most unusual, looked brand new which he couldn't be, and had a totally different configuration, as if made by another company. The troll world is odd and full of anomalies and huge gaps in information. I assumed however that he would be my last "big guy" and that if I got anything else, it would be a small Wishnik, simply because I didn't HAVE any Wishniks and it made a hole in my collection.

But I don't like Wishniks. I tried to like them. Their bulging eyes were pretty much their only outstanding feature. Most of them were old and the worse for wear, with sad clumps of hair coming away from the scalp. Some had no hair at all. The larger ones had hideous flat, elongated heads with huge ears and evil faces. No charm at all.

Wishniks were a direct knockoff of Dam trolls, which are still the gold standard for collectors, mainly because there are just more of them, at different price ranges, different manufacturing dates, and with vastly different designs. Wishniks are just, well, Wishniks. The ad that used to run when I was a kid irritated me: "Just let a Wish-nik/Let you come smi-ling through." They have double horseshoes engraved on the bottoms of their feet. 

Plus they just cost too damn much, $40.00 or more for a small troll in so-so repair.

Whether I get this "big guy" troll or not is undecided. There were a ton of photos on the eBay page, which was nice because sometimes you only get one grainy one, so I was able to make this wonderful animation. Often when I finally make my move, the troll is gone. Or I suddenly change direction and decide that I hate that troll and want something else.

THAT troll.

Post-mortem. Sigh. It happened again. Somebody bought that troll. That troll that was far too expensive for me, anyway. This is what happens when you start a collection. And the weird thing is, I've never collected anything in my life before!

Now I know why.

Trolls a-go-go

Trolls! Trolls! Everyone trolls!

It has been a while since I posted about trolls. In fact, I can't remember if I ever posted about them at all, so I guess it's time.

I now belong to not one, not two, but THREE Facebook troll groups. By the time I actually post this, I might belong to zero troll groups, because I have gone back and forth a lot in my feelings about them.

Yes, it's nice to connect with people who love their trolls and have an enthusiasm for them. No, it's not so great to have someone push and push and push to try to sell expensive trolls to me, or tell me they collect nothing but one-of-a-kind 24" trolls from Denmark that Thomas Dam created with his own two hands in 1942. Or see photos of ultra-expensive trolls posing on the deck of a cruise ship, or in a room with a view in Sicily. Or see someone casually mention a small collection of, oh, say, about 5000 or so Dam trolls, only the finest and the oldest, and -

You know what I'm saying. It's all the same problems I have had with social media from the beginning. Troll elitism! It's beyond my powers to comprehend.

My trolls, the ones I started out with until I began to branch out a little, came from the wrong side of the tracks. They came in a little plastic bag:

. . . and cost me, rounded off, about $5.00 each at the dollar store. I had never seen a troll at the dollar store before, so soon I was stoking my collection and making them little felt outfits. I began replacing their silky but rather sparse hair with great spills of yarn, the fibres all pulled apart for maximum volume.

I thought they looked great! 

Needing a place to store them and not wanting to just use a shelf, I  converted some old CD racks and began to stack them in. 

There weren't too many at first.

I am not sure which troll group I joined first, but it didn't make me very happy, even though I got some initial "likes" for my poorhouse trolls in their CD highrise.

But I still had the feeling they were from a different social stratum, and I was never allowed to forget it. People talked in "troll-ese", I am convinced to make people left out who DIDN'T speak troll-ese. It didn't occur to me that Facebook and its intentional envy syndrome had anything to do with it.

But then the inevitable happened, and I began to "covet". I knew I couldn't begin to afford the holy grail ones, but even the mid-sized Dam trolls cost plenty, what with outrageous shipping charges and conversion of the American dollar to Canadian.

But I went ahead. I looked on eBay, I ordered trolls, I bought trolls. I couldn't help myself.

I don't know how to feel about it now. I haven't counted how many trolls I have, and I don't want to, though I did move a bookcase into my office for the overflow. I have spent a lot of money, for me at least, which translates to a few hundred. Money I can't spare. I think I still like my "Dollarinas" best, my yarnies with all the masses of hair I created from material I already had. But the problem is, their faces all look pretty much the same. They're identical cousins. Their bodies are so fragile, knockoffs of knockoffs made of thin plastic, that you could squish them flat by sitting on them.

The feeling is exciting when I order "real" trolls, and even more exciting when I get them and open the box. It's Christmas morning! One of my faves is the one I call Grumpy Grandpa:

But now I want another one. With the same face. Should I get it?

Collections are horrible things, voracious, insatiable. I've never really had one before, and now I don't know what to do. Stop buying them, maybe?

Am I honestly trying to reproduce my Year of the Trolls when I was ten years old, which was (though of course I didn't know it at the time) the best year of my life?