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Some childhood dolls were made for play. Others were simply too beautiful—and expensive—to touch.

My first memorable doll arrived on my fifth birthday near Valentine’s Day. The six-inch Storybook Doll wore a red dress decorated with hearts and a heart-shaped hat. She cost $5 at a time when a typical birthday present was about $1, making her an unusually lavish gift.

Rather than risk damaging her, I displayed her on my dresser where visiting friends could admire—and perhaps envy—her. That careful treatment helps explain why she remains in excellent condition today.

My everyday dolls lived far busier lives. When I played dolls with Bonnie next door or Susie across the alley, we changed their outfits constantly to keep pace with packed social calendars. They attended dances, parties, beach outings and ice-skating trips while carrying on endless conversations in our best doll voices. The dolls always got along, even when their owners did not.

Another display doll joined the collection during a cross-country family trip to visit my married sister in California. On a day trip to Tijuana, my parents bought me a doll dressed in a striking Mexican skirt. Her pigtails are still tied with red ribbons, though her hair has thinned on top over the years.

My favorite arrived at Christmas when I was 12. The Littlest Angel doll came with an enormous wardrobe, much of it created by my hardworking mother.

Some outfits appeared to have been purchased, including an ice-skating dress with silver skates and a fringed cowboy ensemble with a felt hat, holster, two tiny guns and boots. My mother must have spent weeks sewing the rest: ric-rac-trimmed sunsuits with matching sunbonnets, a purple evening gown covered in pale green netting and a white satin wedding dress.

Unlike the dolls reserved for display, Littlest Angel endured serious play. I dressed and undressed her so often that the years have left unmistakable marks. She is missing an arm, and her hair is disheveled in front, but her shutter-like eyes still open and close, and much of her remarkable wardrobe survives.

I did not love her in a particularly maternal fashion. She was the star of an ongoing fashion show. Time has been rough on both doll and owner, but we have survived—even if neither of us is in perfect condition.