Chapter 14: The Ingenuity of Paper Dolls

Chapter 14 The Ingenuity of Paper Dolls

"How did they do it?" A palpable sense of defeat hung over the editorial office of *Cassell Magazine*. Being overtaken by a competitor they had once left far behind was terrifying enough, but watching them carve out an entirely new revenue stream was utterly frustrating.

"So that’s why..." the *Editor-in-Chief* frowned. "So that’s why the conflicts in *Helen* escalated so abruptly and the character was shaped so quickly. I kept wondering how they managed to pack so much information into just over ten thousand words. Turns out they weren’t relying on the novel itself to make money—they were monetizing the character’s image. How did they even come up with this? Is my thinking outdated?"

A newly hired editor raised their hand. "I may be young, but I wouldn’t have thought of this either."

The *Editor-in-Chief* glared at them. "If they can do it, why can’t we learn from them?"

"That might be challenging," an editor who had remained silent finally spoke up. "First, they used Helen’s story to successfully evoke sympathy and pity from readers, creating an emotional bond between them and the character. Then, before readers could forget, they immediately launched a toy designed specifically for dressing up Helen, directly targeting female readers. Honestly, even if we created a similar product, I doubt many male readers would be interested in buying it."

The *Editor-in-Chief* nodded silently. Indeed, he certainly wouldn’t buy such a thing—what’s the appeal of changing clothes? Didn’t he already change outfits three times a day? He just found it exhausting.

"Finally, they hired a renowned artist from Luntown to design the back of these cards," the editor shrugged. "This added artistic and collectible value. The masterstroke? They included a catalog inside. I’ve got to hand it to them—without it, people might not have been as eager to collect the full set. The catalog gave readers a goal, a challenge. I doubt they’d rest until they completed it."

"And all of this is built on the foundation of people being interested in Helen and empathizing with her story," he concluded. "So, *Helen* isn’t particularly literary and has some plot holes due to its dramatic flair—but the author anticipated all of this. Meanwhile, we lack a female readership interested in dress-up games, can’t hire famous artists, and our readers probably wouldn’t care about card collecting."

"No way we can copy them. No way at all," the new editor shook their head, already giving up. "Instead of obsessing over their methods, maybe we should focus on pushing our authors to write faster. That’s our real job, isn’t it?"

This remark reminded the *Editor-in-Chief*, who turned and asked, "How’s *Wells* doing?"

*Wells* was one of their veteran authors, known for writing highly engaging novels. Whenever he serialized, *Cassell Magazine*’s sales stabilized at around 60,000 copies. His last novel had concluded half a year ago, and his new one was still in the conceptual stage—assuming he was even working on it at all.

Previously, he had been busy with novel publication—no small task. Many authors serialized their works in magazines first, then reprinted them as complete volumes afterward, releasing them in phases based on popularity to maximize profits. But half a year had passed—he should’ve been done by now.

"He’s quite interested in this theme," the editor in charge of *Wells* replied, pausing before adding, "But given his usual pace, we’ll probably have to wait a few more months."

"A few more months... Can’t he strike while the iron’s hot?" the *Editor-in-Chief* fumed, though he knew *Wells*’ habits well enough. With a dismissive wave, he asked, "What about our other authors? Any updates?"

While the established magazine struggled to cope with the pressure brought by *Helen*, customers who had purchased the paper dolls were still figuring out how to use them.

Compared to the card craze, the paper dolls were slower to take off—after all, they required a series of fussy steps, like carefully cutting out the doll and her outfits along the printed lines.

Each booklet’s doll came with twelve sets of clothes, hats, headpieces, shoes, socks, and handheld accessories. They appeared coordinated, but could be mixed and matched with other components.

"Hmm, this pale yellow hat might go well with this white dress," *Nancy* mused, preferring to exercise her creativity rather than follow the pre-set outfits on the cards. "Maybe adding a pale yellow purse too? That way, they’d complement each other."

Though she had enough money to order a dozen unique outfits, no wardrobe in real life could replace the joy of mixing and matching the paper doll’s wardrobe.

And don’t underestimate the power of 'choice.' After all, fashion is about selecting clothes to express oneself—and that form of self-expression only works when there are multiple options to choose from.

For *Nancy* herself, expressing her identity through clothing was far more difficult. She was certain her natural appearance couldn’t pull off such fancy dresses.

Beautiful clothes accentuate beautiful people, but when someone plain wears intricate, gorgeous outfits, they just look plainer by contrast. Whenever she wore something refined, she *had* to put on makeup.

And once makeup was involved, changing clothes became a whole production—she had to avoid smudging her makeup while swapping outfits, all while ensuring the fabric didn’t pick up powder from her face, which would make cleaning the already hard-to-wash garments even more troublesome. Like men, she grew weary of the tedious process of changing three times a day.

Moreover, her figure wasn’t as slender and graceful as the paper doll’s. She could only choose clothes that concealed her flaws and avoid those that highlighted them, no matter how much she adored the latter in her heart.

The paper doll had no such worries. No matter the dress, bag, or hat, she carried them all flawlessly—like a professional model, showcasing the essence of each garment.

Every time she looked at it, *Nancy* couldn’t help but admire the person who designed these paper dolls. The same color printing technology—some used it for magazines, while others thought to print it on cards, on paper, to be cut out and used for mixing and matching outfits.

Perhaps dollmakers had also considered the appeal of outfit coordination, but paper dolls were clearly cheaper. And there was one key difference: cloth dolls were mostly modeled after babies, since families expected girls to care for younger siblings. Baby-style dolls served as the "cared-for" role, evoking maternal instincts in girls, letting them play at being mothers.

The paper doll, however, was a miniature teenage girl. She could change outfits endlessly, becoming the idealized version of herself that girls projected onto her.

Why didn’t I think of this?

"Mother," her daughter, who had been reading nearby, curiously leaned in. "What's this?"

Nancy suddenly felt a bit ashamed, as if enjoying such a child's toy at her age wasn’t quite fitting for a mother.

"It's a doll you can change clothes for," she explained simply. "Would you like to try?"

"Can I?" Her daughter was eager, and Nancy realized that, due to the so-called "rational leisure" promoted by high society, they hadn’t played with such simple toys in a long time.

"Why not?" Nancy countered. At the very least, changing the paper doll’s clothes could cultivate an aesthetic sense—surely that counted as "rational leisure."

Besides, when Elena designed and guided others in drawing outfits for the paper doll, she had incorporated some clever touches. For instance, that pale yellow floral dress, dotted with tiny red blossoms, was particularly fresh and natural.

In truth, most clothing at the time favored solid-colored dresses, with at most a second color used for lace or ribbons. Influenced by the queen, the popular hues were darker tones like black, deep brown, and burgundy, along with stripes and twill patterns, giving a dignified, elegant look.

Nancy really liked these small floral prints, even though her friends insisted they were only suitable for countryside vacations.

"Maybe I’ll get a dress like this made," she mused. "I wonder if there’s similar fabric available."

Ready-made clothing didn’t become widely available until the late 19th century. Before that, unless one sewed at home, garments had to be tailored, so people typically bought fabric rather than purchasing finished clothes as they do today.

The Industrial Revolution enabled large-scale production of cotton spinning, weaving, and printed fabrics in Luneton, thereby reducing the cost of tailored clothing. At least the middle class could now afford the clothes they desired, even choosing what styles to have made. Before this, clothing had been extremely expensive—nobles would gift their old garments to servants as a gesture of kindness, and even selling them could bring in some money.

The Mayfair district where she lived had Savile Row, known as the Tailors’ Golden Mile, lined with skilled dressmakers. These shops not only crafted garments but also functioned as fabric stores.

Charlotte’s small tailor shop was on this street. Though Charlotte lacked fame and charged modestly, she managed to secure minor commissions in this hub of professional tailors. Bigger shops sometimes sent work her way as well.

To attract customers, she went to great lengths to get beautiful color illustrations and provided samples of the latest fabrics. She was also a devoted subscriber to women’s magazines, as their readers often brought in illustrations to request custom garments.

Back then, there weren’t many avenues for people to embrace fashion. Magazines were one of the few.