FAO Schwarz is closing its flagship Manhattan store because the toy giant can not keep up with the rent increases. The 5th avenue store was harrowing and a far cry from the satellite stores that existed in the 1960’s and 70’s. Ours was in a suburban Philadelphia shopping mall that also housed Lord & Taylor and B. Altmans – it was a place that invoked an almost unconveyable magic. Founded by a German Immigrant in New York in 1862, these stores offered exclusive toys you never saw anywhere else. There was the menagerie of scratchy, glassy-eyed animals from Steiff: itty-bitty mice called “pieps” in aprons, bears in lederhosen, giant schnauzers handmade from felt, mohair, and alpaca. The store’s enchanting doll department had pyramids of 8″ Madame Alexander dolls from exotic lands, and behind glass were the 14″ storyland lasses.
Unlike the massive phonebookian Sears Wishbook, the FAO Schwarz catalogs were slim and understated, with tiny images of a very limited selection of toys. But those were special toys.And expensive! There were the big-ticket toys, that the stores didn’t carry and that we would never get. Like the child-sized replica of a 1950s soda fountain, impeccably rendered, with little, spinning red stools, where children could experience “the thrill of working behindas ice cream fountain server serving sundaes and sodas and other delicious concoctions”.
There were luxurious, skin-covered rocking horses, one that even pulleda chrome sulky that was described like something out of a fairytale: “perched in a comfortable bucket seat, the driver of this fine rig guides his prancing pony by the reins.
Contemporary toy counterparts – movie tie-in, shrieking and yakking hunks of plastic made in sweatshops and coated in PVCs – just don’t cut it. Or yuppie oriented electronic “storybooks”, interactive videos, stepping stones to children’s inevitable passion switch from playing, listening and interacting, to almost exclusively staring, stoned, at electronic boxes. The delirium of coma-inducing, button pushing “toys’ have shoved the magical, childish world of special, gracious, high-end toys into complete oblivion.
Dolls were a big part of the FAO Schwarz universe and they had the finest. Founded on an idea that dolls should “engage the imagination and contribute to a child’s happiness and understanding of the world”, Madame Alexander dolls all sported the same supine face, but were unique in hairdo and costume. Each doll was impeccably appointed with underskirts, lace edged pantaloons, slips, cotton tights and black velvet slippers or patent leather epilets. Some had suitcases of trousseaus. My sister had the “Pamela and Party Kit”, a big pink case of costumes and party dresses, yellow silk lingerie and wigs.
Alice’s dress was of crisp blue cotton topped with a starched white pinafore. Her cornsilk yellow hair was held back with a simple blue band. Madame Doll had azure eyes, gold ringlets and wore a gown of pale pink silk brocade trimmed with pink organdy and lace ruffles, lacy duster cap with a black velvet bow. Her petticoats had a secret, hidden pocket with pearls. The frisson of receiving that blue box and unwrapping your doll from the carnation pink tissue was unparalleled. Okay, this is verging on doll porn.
One of my absolute favorite toys was a traveling bear in a round case with a Tyrolean outfit, clown suit, overalls, car coat, striped pajamas and a ballet tutu. Then there was the feline family of kitties all cozy on a soft pillow in a wicker basket.
Princess movie tie-in costumes? NO. You went to Woolworth’s for those! Until we were old enough to assert our poorly hand-honed, cardboard and tinfoil craptraps, our Halloween costumes were “Well made, imaginative costumes for every fantasy” from the FAO Schwarz catalog…..
This is us in our catalog costumes. That’s me in the “Hungarian Peasant Dress with a multicolored, satin striped skirt over a bouffant petticoat and a headdress with flowers and ribbon streamers”. My sister is next to me in the “Red Riding Hood;; dainty, cream colored silk rayon peasant dress with crimson piping over a red tulle petticoat and a red duvetyne hood and napkin-lined basket”. That;s my litle brother in the horrifying Scarecrow and a friend in the “Poor Cinderella” get up.
Then there were the horses. I didn’t live anywhere near any horses, yet knew I wanted one and always had, after getting this wooden stable. It came with brooms and buckets, and the horse had legs that moved, real hair, blankets and tack. FAO also sold a miniature riding academy, and an elaborate horse farm accessorized with hay crib, feed trough, steeplechase and shrubs. There were mounted riders and tiny stablemen to tidy up the ponies. I began to understand that somehwere outside of Ambler there were things called “tack rooms” where girls like me had their own ponies and there were people whose job it was to tidy up those ponies. I don’t remember actually aspiring to such a life, but it began to dawn on me that privileged people bore watching, for reasons yet to be determined.
Of course FAO Schwarz sold their own well appointed, electrified dollhouses, saltboxes, cozy colonials, plantation houses with sprawling porches, a rustic three-bears cabin, and a chimeric Schwäbisch chalet – weirdly named a “Peasant House”, with gingham curtains, flowering window boxes and rooms full of brightly painted Tyrolean furniture.
I didn’t just play with the “Kitten Mobile”, I coveted it. “Out for a Sunday afternoon spin in their vintage touring car, this happy cat famly stops traffic wherever they go. the 6 plush kittens all dressed in their sunday best, enjoy the fresh air and scenary as they roll merrily along on thier sturdy auto, made of wood with yellow etal fenders, ubber wheels and a fringed striped canopy over their heads”. A “vintage touring car”. I didn’t know what “touring” was but I knew I wanted to do it. There was a also chimeric a multilevel Floridian dance academy for mice that I NEVER GOT.
I did get something called “Dog Paradise”, a canine carnival of Scotties, Dalmatians. Poodles and Terriers cavorting on playground equipment and/or relaxing in cabanas.
My sister and I had the “City Mouse” and “Country Mouse” houses. I was country, Kristen was city. City mouse wore a tangerine satin dress and diamonds and her house was stately red brick with gold and white striped walls, red velvet upholstery, gilt mirrors and candelabras. Country mouse was POOR, in a simple gingham apron. Her POOR house was a wood paneled cottage with a rough hewn furniture, burlap rug, and cleaning supplies. The creme de la creme of the entire FAO Schwarz franchise for us was truly magnificent and out of reach and held a primo spot in the store. It was a 3-story tree stump shared by a squirrel, turtle, owl, fox, hedgehog, mice and a lady bug and tended over by a Steiff dad bear in overalls and a mom in a red checked pinafore. We had seen anything else like it. Priced at a staggering $89, it was the jewel in the store’s crown, and we never got it.
At some point recently, I poked around trying to find bits and pieces of these toys that I loved a s child, trying to recapture some of that toy frisson. They were special, so special in fact that they are virtually impossible to find. Theu were made in limited quantities, in Germany, and if you do find one they go for staggering amounts of money.
I see some parents forgetting the benefits they had as children, simple, quiet, peaceful diversions. Beautiful, well-made “special” toys. FAO Schwarz’ privileged toy consumers had time on their hands. Time to drive a sulky and pony, time to take Sunday drives in an old-time “touring car”. The good people at FAO Schwarz recognized there was value in a child’s time, in quiet, in peace, alone or with a doll, a stuffed bear, a tea set or a wooden horse. Without clattering and flashing and digital displays, children can think and invent, and imagine their futures where they are most receptive to learning, where they grow to know themselves and to discover their own likes and dislikes and their dreams. It’s where I knew I liked horses, and where my sister was the “fancy mouse” and I was the dusty mouse with the gingham apron, and where my brother learned he liked flashing and digital displays. The good people of FAO Schwarz knew the difference between “doing” and “being”, and they placed a high commodity on a child’s time – the finest of all luxury goods.
Today there is never time on anyone’s hands. Time evaporates in 600+ television channels, on sun-scorched soccer fields, where children run in herds up and down, up and down, in machines and devices and the literally limitless suck of the internet. Nor is there enchantment, no mystery, no yearning, no wistfulness because stuff is cheap and plentiful and heartlessly accessible. There are no “moments” left in a child’s life, no moments to strain to capture and hold on to, because everything is accessible. The children who coveted what these toys had to offer are all grown up now, so I guess there isn’t really a need for a company to make toys for them.
The mailer that was included the FAO Schwarz 1967 catalog read:
To old friends and new: This catalog comes to you wrapped in the treasured tradition of all the “Wish Books” we have published in the 105 years we have been gathering toys….(in it) you will find toys that use a child’s skill, daring and independence, to spark the imagination and initiative, to free a child to experiment and explore. There are the best in books and records that will add to a child’s learning, listening and doing pleasure. You can tell from our long years of experience that these are good toys with the magic and power to challenge, intrigue, and befriend. and above all, delight a child.