Felicity’s WIlliamsburg: My American Girl Adventure
American Girl has been a cornerstone of young girls’ upbringing since its inception in 1986. With the dolls' expansive wardrobe and matching backstories, the American Girl doll legacy has persisted into the 21st century. Sophia Kaisermann ’27 explores one particular doll’s impact.
In the midst of all the chaos and change of moving to college almost two years ago, I found myself having my very own Andy and Woody moments, figuring out which toys go in storage and which to donate. I was not as strong as Andy, though, and did not part with my American Girl doll. Marie-Grace is safely stored in my family’s basement.
I grew up loving American Girl. My mom read me and my sister the books before bed and we had a large collection of catalogues that we discussed like they were gossip magazines. We had most of the movies on DVD, and without my knowing it, the movie Felicity: An American Girl Adventure, starring a young Shailene Woodley in the titular role, was my first look into our colonial college town. It wasn’t until very recently that I realized the rebellious, fiery, red-headed doll, Felicity Merriman, lived in Williamsburg in 1774. I decided that I had to investigate Felicity’s story, find its connections to the real Williamsburg, and see the town through her eyes.
It was after a trip to Colonial Williamsburg in 1986 that Pleasant T. Rowland founded the Pleasant Company. Inspired by her love for American history and her passion for educational toys, she created the first line of American Girl dolls. In September 1991, Felicity was launched with the help of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, which hosted a three-day event where girls and their families could attend tea parties, etiquette classes, and meet both Rowland and the author of the Felicity books, Valery Tripp. CW continued to host American Girl fans with their Felicity tours and experiences until 1998, when the company was bought by toy mammoth Mattel.
With a Felicity book in one hand and a map of CW in the other, I wandered into the first building I saw in CW, the weaver’s shop, where I was greeted by a friendly lady spinning flax fibers into linen.
I told her about my mission, and she immediately gave me a knowing look. She called upstairs to her coworker, a lady who had helped the Pleasant Company pick out historically accurate fabrics for Felicity’s outfits. She told me about how the doll’s signature dress pattern was altered from the one she originally recommended and how the doll’s iconic ginger hair did not match the young model’s redder shade. She remembered how complicated it was to coordinate all of the tours and activities they offered and all of the merchandise they sold. They advised me to visit the Powell House, where many of the events were run, and go inside the Wythe House for a look at what the houses in the books may have looked like.
I set off across the street to the house of George Wythe, signer of the Constitution and one of the first professors at the Marshall-Wythe School of Law. The second her presentation was over, the reenactor working at the house asked me if the book I was holding was “one of the Felicity’s.” She was excited to recommend all of the places I should visit, from the Everard House, where Tripp stayed while writing the books, to the Prentis Store, “Mr. Merriman’s shop!” she said.
Throughout my tour of the Wythe House, I scanned the book for details that were present in the house. One woman’s bedroom featured a wig on a vanity much like Elizabeth’s sister wore in the book. The dining room table was covered with the cakes and biscuits Felicity eats at tea time, and the parlor echoed with the sound of a piano played live, reminiscent of a scene I had just read about at a party at the Merrimans’. Felicity’s world was slowly coming to life for me, both with each attraction I visited and each CW worker I talked to who expressed such excitement about my project.
After leaving the Wythe House, I crossed the Palace Green to the Everard House. Much to my dismay, the house was temporarily closed for renovation, but still I tried to peek in the windows of where Felicity’s story was brought to life. I then turned the corner on Duke of Gloucester Street in search of the Prentis Store, continuing the streak of places I had never been before. The walls were lined with knick-knacks, pottery pots and plates, baskets, and tapestries. The stocked-up shelves were clearly the inspiration for the book, with an illustration matching the store exactly.
Leaving the store, I made my way up DoG street to the Capitol and the Powell House before stopping at the milliner on the way back. Stepping into the shop, I first looked around and listened to what the ladies were telling the family of visitors at the counter. The back left corner of the store showcased a blue satin dress that looked similar to one I had seen in my research about Felicity. The reenactor at the counter explained to the family that deep blue was the most popular color in 1774, and every girl wanted a dress of that hue.
As the family left, the ladies then addressed themselves to me and I asked them about Felicity. Their smiles widened as one of them said, “We love Felicity!” She ran to the back room and brought out a copy of the original Pleasant Company copy of Felicity’s Surprise, whose cover featured Felicity in a blue dress very similar to the one behind the counter. In the image, Felicity was holding a doll in the same dress, which the ladies pointed out was sitting on the shelf next to the dress.
They told me that about twice a week a little girl comes in with a doll, and often their mom is proud to tell them that the doll was her old Felicity that she had brought to Williamsburg when she was young. These encounters are especially touching because the ladies at the milliner are part of what they call “The Felicity Generation.” In 2016, Colonial Williamsburg’s now extinct blog “Making History Now” released the article “We are the Felicity Generation” about the women who work at the foundation who gained their love for history through visits to CW with their Felicity dolls. The article was lost when the blog was shut down, but I found a Facebook post promoting it that has hundreds of touching comments from women who loved the doll and visited as children or with their children.
When I set out on this adventure, I was excited to explore new parts of CW and learn about historical accuracy in the American Girl books. I never expected I would also find such special connections to the character. Felicity has inspired multiple generations of women to study and see their place in American history. She has become a beloved symbol of girlhood and served as a bonding link between mothers and daughters, sharing in their connection to the doll and each other. As girls become women, they may stop playing with their dolls, but the stories and memories they bring live on.
Just by mentioning Felicity’s name to the many reenactors I met that afternoon elicited smiles and wide eyes full of love for the rebellious redhead. They were so hospitable and kind, sharing their memories and enthusiasm for the doll. The people who work in CW are knowledgeable and passionate about history and are so excited to share their expertise. I hope to continue to channel my inner Felicity and spend more time immersing myself in CW, talking to these talented workers, attending the seemingly endless events outlined on my map, and taking advantage of my student annual pass to the fullest.
On my way down DoG Street and back towards campus, I spotted a family of four. Parents with two young girls walking beside them, the mom rolling a stroller. As I came closer, I realized that sitting on the stroller was not a child, but two familiar 18-inch dolls in matching colonial garb. When our paths crossed, I asked the family about the dolls, and the girls were excited to introduce me to their Addy and Kirsten, other dolls in the historical collection. “Those are Felicity’s clothes, though,” their mom made sure to tell me. The older girl gently set Kirsten on a staircase so I could take a picture. 34 years after she debuted and six years after she was retired, Felicity continues to captivate young girls.