When Two Dollhouses Become One: The Story of Cedarwood Manor

At first glance, Cedarwood Manor looks like a single dollhouse.

But the more time I spent with it, the more I realized it had a story to tell. As I prepared the house for the Seattle Miniature Show, I found myself looking beyond the dust and the details to something much more interesting. This wasn't simply a large Victorian dollhouse—it appeared to be two different kits brought together into one custom home.

In the miniature world, we have a name for that.

It's called kit bashing.

Kit bashing is the art of combining two or more dollhouse kits to create something entirely new. Instead of building directly from the plans, the builder borrows sections, alters rooflines, expands flo

orplans, and reimagines the architecture to create a house that has never existed before.

After researching Cedarwood Manor, I believe its original builder combined a Dura-Craft Bellingham with a Dura-Craft VM-800 Victorian. Whether that was the original intention or a creative solution that evolved during construction, the result is a house unlike any standard kit.

Bellingham VM-800 Cedarwood

In the late 1970s and early 1980s, this kind of creative building was surprisingly common among experienced miniature enthusiasts. One popular approach was to begin with the Dura-Craft Bellingham and then "kit bash" it by adding a large hexagonal tower to the front corner of the house. The addition dramatically transformed the architecture, even bisecting the original front porch, creating a striking custom farmhouse that looked nothing like the original kit.

These ambitious modifications became part of the miniature landscape of the era. In fact, years later, Real Good Toys drew inspiration from many of these classic tower-modified farmhouses when designing their New Concept Collection, including the Hawthorne. It's a wonderful example of hobbyists influencing manufacturers—a reminder that some of the most creative ideas began at a workbench rather than in a design studio.

That's one of the things I love most about older dollhouses. They tell us as much about the people who built them as they do about the kits themselves. Every modification represents a decision.

A room made larger because someone wanted more space.

A roofline changed because an idea seemed better than the instructions.

A window moved simply because it looked right.

Long before "custom builds" became common, miniature enthusiasts were quietly creating one-of-a-kind homes from imagination and a stack of plywood. Preparing Cedarwood Manor for the Seattle Miniature Show meant much more than cleaning every room and polishing every surface. It gave me an opportunity to appreciate the creativity of the person who first imagined this remarkable house.

Every time I restore a dollhouse, I'm reminded that I'm never the first person to love it.

I'm simply the next caretaker, helping preserve someone else's creativity so another generation can enjoy it.

Cedarwood Manor is a wonderful reminder that sometimes the most interesting houses aren't the ones that followed the plans. They're the ones that dared to write their own.