Gum Tree · 1950s-60s Australian Souvenir Koala, Natural Fur
Natural fur · hand-assembled · black glass eyes · plastic claws · pink satin bow · Australian souvenir · 1950s–1960s · approx. 18cm tall
Cream-blonde natural fur, arms held up and slightly out in that particular way koalas have, as if they are about to say something. Black glass eyes. Plastic claws, each one distinct. A pink satin bow at the throat, tied with intention.
The Australian tourist souvenir koala existed in two registers: the quickly made and the carefully made. This one belongs to the second category. Natural fur cut and assembled by hand, with the kind of attention to proportion that suggests it was made by someone who had looked carefully at a koala, not just at a template of one. From the 1950s to the 1960s, Australian souvenir manufacturers produced toys and novelties for both domestic and export markets; these pieces were bought as gifts by visitors who understood them as a kind of portable Australia, an animal too singular to have an equivalent anywhere else. The fur is still plush, still cream-blonde. The satin bow has not moved.
Australian manufacture, 1950s to 1960s. Approximately 18cm tall. The sort of thing that ends up on a shelf for sixty years and is still, somehow, company.
Care
Surface-clean only with a barely damp cloth. Do not wet or submerge. Keep from prolonged direct sunlight to preserve the fur colour.
More on looking after vintage pieces in our care guide.
Size
Measured flat: Approx. 18cm tall.
Our size guide explains how vintage sizing is read here.
Condition
Well-loved but structurally sound. The fur is clean and plush throughout. No loss of filling, no damage to the stitching. The pink satin bow is intact albeit slightly aged. The glass eyes show light surface wear consistent with age.
Our condition lexicon explains the grades we use.
Before it reaches you
Someone loved this before you did, and I try to honour that properly. Each piece is hand washed, or cleaned in the way that the fabric permits, then steamed until it softens and straightens and feels newly attended to. Wherever a button was missing, it has been replaced with a vintage one from my long-kept collection. Wherever a hem had given way, I fix it by hand. By the time it leaves this room it is genuinely clean, pressed, whole, and looked over one final time before I let myself believe it is ready. Not restored. Not made new. Just returned to a state where it can be loved again, by someone who was not there the first time.
Its arms are held up and slightly out, the way koalas hold themselves the moment before they say something, and sixty years in it has still not said it, which only makes the pause more interesting. Sold once as a portable Australia, it has carried the whole continent folded quietly into eighteen centimetres of cream-blonde fur and never once complained of the weight. The pink bow has not shifted since the 1950s, being the one thing about it that made an early decision and kept to it. Set it on a shelf and it will keep you company, patiently, in the manner of something still deciding whether now is the moment to speak.