not an expert

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I like to collect things, but I'm an expert on nothing. I have oodles of perfume bottles. Some are vintage, some are mass-produced decorations, some are empty ones which are too lovely to end up on the landfill site, and others are boxes of designer miniatures, still wrapped safely in cellophane. But I don't know anything about perfume bottles. I just think they're pretty. I collect and keep them because they bring joy and happiness into my life. And, as I've mentioned in the past, I'm now a collector of dolls. My preferred are Sindy dolls and then any doll which looks like it spent many years being loved by an adoring child. I don't mind if it's grubby and I don't mind if it's broken. For me the value of anything isn't determined by how pristine and well-cared for it is, but by how much it has been loved and enjoyed. With love and enjoyment, missing parts and grubbiness, comes mystery and secrets and memories and wonder ... When I was a child Mumsy often let me play with her dolls, usually only with supervision. She sent me an excited text last week to say that she'd stumbled upon her twins, in a box. I remember them! I text-squealed back. And indeed I do. We spent the day with her yesterday and she let me play with them again. Heaven! They are so adorable ... little Rosebud twin dolls from the 1950s. One day they will be mine, and I'll own enough vintage stuff to be able to open my own little antique shop. And I'll still be an expert on nothing.