A complete change from steampunk, and a huge challenge… but a friend commissioned me to put Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre into one of my little cardboard cases.
To begin with I just gawped at her, but she had it all figured out. The audience would go on the back wall, there would be some Tudor theatregoers in boxes to the sides of the stage and the fold-down tray of the case would provide the stage itself.
“I’d like a scene from A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” she said. “Titania in her bower, with Bottom wearing his ass’s head and Puck nearby.
My first impulse was to run screaming from the house, but gradually I began to see it emerging in my mind’s eye and once that happens, I start making.
So here is the basic box layout. All my spare miniature people – the ones awaiting transformation – had to dress as extras and be photographed many times to make the audience backdrop!
And here is a wealthy member of the audience. One of Mr Shakespeare’s patrons, perhaps. He certainly has one of the finest seats in the house.
Titania’s bower is a mix of wire and artificial flowers, with velvet cushions the colour of moss and grass. The fairy queen herself has glittering wings, a floaty silver and translucent dress, a crown of opals and rose gold chains and long golden hair.
The portly Bottom, by contrast, wears rough hessian clothes, as befits a ‘rude mechanical’. His donkey head is removable. To be honest, I think he looks better with it on!
Finally Puck – my favourite – has cropped green hair and feather wings. He carries the purple herb he used to bewitch Titania, who is now hopelessly enamoured of the ‘translated’ Bottom.
There’s a little more to do – some scenery to depict the woodland and another gentleman to watch the play, but this – roughly – is how it will look.
I rather regret my – um – outburst now. I confess I hadn’t realised the amount of work that goes into sewing a tailcoat – especially at 1/12 scale. The seamstress grew quite angry. She showed me the number of darts (never knew darts were used in sewing) and the intricacies of lining the tails and collar, and all with those huge clumsy fingers of hers. I was anxious, though. 
Only three days to the wedding, and there I was in my shirtsleeves, waving my watch at her and demanding that she finish the jacket quickly. After all, she still had my hat and goggles to make.
“We almost sold the engine room,” announced the young man who runs one of the shops (the physical one) I supply, when I wandered in with some new stock last week.
The responses were many and various! Many iconised likes, loves and wows. The comments ranged from the singularly unhelpful ‘Dress her in black!!’, through ‘What IS steampunk?’ to one person who solicitously explained the difference between cogs and fly wheels as she thought I must be confused. As I had hoped and expected, though, many of the kind and lovely people took time to suggest extras and modifications that would help me to fulfil the brief.
The veil – their collected wisdom told me – had to go. The headdress had to include (oh shudder and groan at the dreary cliché!) a top hat, and possibly goggles. The bouquet needed to be bigger and bolder, the bodice more decorated and – at her waist – either a pouch or (I loved this idea) a chatelaine.
So, having added several necklace chains worth of metalwork, a (heavily disguised) kid leather hat and gone along with the other ideas – except the dratted goggles; I have my pride! – I reposted my altered little lady.
Well if that person is reading this, they might like to take a trip over to the 
Steampunk - Shrunk! 