While promoting the latest installment of the Twilight series, actress Kristen Stewart (Bella) and actor Taylor Lautner (Jacob) were asked about the merchandise that swirls around their teen box-office sensation.

The other week, I was watching “The O’Reilly Factor,” and Bill O’Reilly was in rare form. I can always tell when the cable pundit is going to be on fire because he begins his program with an extra-large, extra-broad finger point and proclamation of “Caution! You’re about to enter the No Spin Zone.” On this particular night’s episode, he was practically levitating out of his chair as he greeted viewers and warned them to buckle their armchair seatbelts.

Many years ago, when I was putting together an issue of DOLLS, I asked readers to share which currently famous or historical people they’d like to see made into dolls. Not surprisingly, movie stars and singers led the way. There were tons of thumbs-up for Madonna, Nicole Kidman and Cher. And, interestingly enough, a Cher doll from Mattel hit the market soon after our nonscientific poll ran. (I called it the “Cher and Cher Alike” effect.)

Since working with DOLLS magazine, I’ve noticed a characteristic that many collectors have. When a particular doll or doll theme captures a collector’s attention, a “true” collector wants every possible incarnation of that doll or dolls related to a particular theme. I like dolls. I like them a lot. In fact, I have a fledgling collection.

As I type my blog this week, I have an imaginary monogrammed hankie tucked into my crisp, starched cuff and a slow, mournful lullaby playing in the backdrop, courtesy of an invisible gypsy band that has strolled into my office. It’s easy to make believe when you are dealing with the world of dolls. But it is incredibly easy to do more than just pretend—to actually embody a little bit of old Hollywood razzmatazz—when you are discussing the iconic “Gene Marshall” doll.

Dolls are seldom seen as art by the general public and the larger art community. It’s an interesting phenomenon to me. Well-executed dolls require mastery of far more artistic skills than required of, say, a painter—designing, painting, sculpting, wig-making, costuming and engineering, numbering among them. Yet, dolls are often viewed as eccentric, inferior and sentimental, and relegated to some non-lofty, non-art category.

When I’m not busy cooing over cuddly baby dolls and swooning over surreal pieces of doll art, I have another career as an editor in true crime. It’s an interesting mixture: the bad and the beautiful. I get to revel in how joyful and spiritual a well-conceived doll can be, and then shudder at how people do the most unthinkable things to other people. It gives my life a very unique perspective.

To attend a Tonner Doll Collectors’ Convention is to experience a thing of beauty, a study in superior coordination and organization, and some of the best entertainment the doll industry has to offer. Throughout the course of four days, myriad gorgeous dolls are unveiled, delightful presentations and seminars given, decadent meals consumed and priceless moments of comradeship had by likeminded collectors.

The other day I decided I had to get moving again. Sitting on my duff might be helping me cerebrally, but not cardiovascular-ly (if that’s even a real medical term, or an English word). Sitting down before a computer screen for an extended time certainly transforms a girl’s silhouette into something resembling a Weeble Wobble’s. That’s a sad fact of life.