Apricot & Strawberry

Tonight I got a whiff of my childhood.

From an unknown source, I could smell Apricot.
Not the fruit, but the tiny rubber figurine of Strawberry Shortcake's friend, Apricot, who was one in a series of the little dolls who smelled like their name.

Apricot is holding hands with a bunny, to the right of Lemon Meringue and to the left of Apple Dumplin' on her pet turtle.

As much as I was dying to collect them all, Apricot was the only one I ever owned and had I not gotten rid of her, (during my all-grown-up teen angst years,) I would take her out right now and give her a sniff. Strawberry Shortcake was popular (the first time around) with many little American girls born in the 1970s who almost all share the middle name Lynn. But, she was even more special to me because she was the only popular kid icon that my strict and pious Mennonite-wanna-be mother approved of.

I was absolutely head over heels for Miss Shortcake. The year I discovered her, my favorite color changed from purple to red.

I had the Strawberry Shortcake sleeping bag;

I had the lunch box.

I clearly remember getting the three pack of "Weekend" underwear with Strawberry posed on pink, yellow and peach for Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I immediately put a pair on in the car, in the parking lot of the department store even though it wasn't the weekend.

For my 7th birthday I got a cake with her sweetly smiling icing face and I also received a personally autographed plastic image of her with her cat "Custard" that said, "To my berry special friend, Tracey." I still have it. And it was berry special to me because my name was properly spelled with an "E" which was a rare find on the monogrammed items that were all the rage in the 1980s. And I still have a pot holder shaped like a strawberry house with her looking out the window, tending her strawberry window boxes. And I still to this day keep all my hair elastics and barrettes in a canister on which she is depicted gleefully lounging in a juicy pile of bright red berries. One little whiff and a landslide of memories.

Thanks, Strawberry, for your optimism and cheer, you got me through some pretty tough childhood times.