Stuffed Creature Design Part X

A very good morning from The Stuffed Animal Review, a publication dedicated to the analysis of stuffed creature design and their larger worlds.  First time visiting The Review?  No need to be confused: you can consult the “Philosophy” page for a fuller explanation of The Review’s purpose. 

To The Review’s loyal readers: congratulations, you have reached Part X of The Review’s guide to high-quality stuffed creature design.  The Review planned on sending each reader who made it is far – through the fundamental principles and notes on fur, stuffing, size, and accessories – a graduation bear in the mail.  But as you know from the last two posts, well-designed themed bears are an endangered species.  You will have to settle for the warm feeling of accomplishment that comes from within.  You can recreate this feeling by reviewing the guide, archived as the “Core Principles” page.

We have only a few Miscellaneous Details to consider in Stuffed Creature Design Part X: Stuffed Creature Accessories.  Warning: they are disturbing…

Additions or designs that allow access to your stuffed creature’s innards qualify as a disturbing detail. 

Stuffed creatures designed as pocketbooks or backpacks have all manner of zippers and pockets.  There is nothing more unsettling than being able to zip open your stuffed creature’s head, stomach, or back, as in the poor giraffe pictured below [Figure 1].  Even worse, some of these bags are disembodied heads.  The Review prefers stuffed creatures intact and whole.

Figure 1

The Review read an article lauding these backpacks and purses as popular with “tween” girls who are experimenting with fashion and style.  The Review cringes at this trend: stuffed creatures are not “fashion accessories” and certainly should not be carved-up and gutted for this purpose.

Another category of disturbing design: stuffed creature slippers [Figure 2].  Think about it.  Putting your foot into your stuffed creature’s head?  Not an appealing thought or sensation.  Besides, once those creatures are used as slippers, animating them like a normal stuffed creature becomes a potentially smelly, even hazardous, endeavor into foot odor and floor grime.

Figure 2

Random disturbing details: The Review ran across a stuffed pig that doubled as a piggy bank, with a plastic slot up top and circular plug in its belly [Figures 3&4].  Again, the access to innards here is plain unnerving, and the plastic parts interfere with squishability and softness.  If you want a piggy bank, buy a ceramic one; better yet, open a bank account.

Figure 3

Figure 4

This brings us to a philosophical point: your stuffed creature should not be forced into a particular role such as “graduation bear,” nor should it multitask, doubling as a backpack, slippers, or piggy bank.  The point of your stuffed creature is expressive interaction and play.

And so concludes The Review’s basic guidelines for a quality stuffed creature.  You now know what to look for, and what to avoid, in terms of proportion, fur, softness, size, and accessories. 

Go out into the world and make the world a better place: encourage the production of high-quality stuffed animals through your selections.  

But before you venture forth, perhaps you would like some practice in applying your new-found knowledge.  Next Saturday will give you an opportunity to test what you’ve learned; make sure and study for The Review Stuffed Creature Quiz.