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wellington-deconstruction

Some time ago, a Womble appeared at my flat in south London. It was a small, soft toy, about 13 centimetres high, that my son, who was in his early teens, had brought home. He had been out with his friends to our local fast -food outlet and it had been given away with his £1.99 meal.

I pounced on it. After all, he had grown out of the cuddly toy phase, even though he still holds them in a certain affection. Also, unlike his mother, he is not old enough to remember the Womble’s. I asked if I could have it. He nodded and gave a dismissive shrug, already knowing its fate.

I began by inspecting this small object. A label the size of a postage stamp, sewn onto the inside leg, held the following information:
“c. 1999, McDonald’s Corp. Made in China. Wellington c EB/FF, 1999.” I then started to unpick the tiny stitches holding it together, making observations as I went along. By the evenness of the stitches, I could tell it had been made on a sewing  machine. As I dissected him (having assumed that I was dealing with a ‘him’), I was struck by the number of parts, which had been used to construct him. There were 31 separate bits, including the tiny pieces of interfacing that had been used to strengthen his crutch, hairline, arms and main body. I spread them all before me, amazed.

Many questions flooded into my head. How could it have been sewn on a sewing machine? It must have been so fiddly. How long had it taken to make? Had it been made in a factory or at home by a piece-worker? Had it been made by a woman, a man or a child or, perhaps, a combination of all three, with someone making the ears and someone else making the head? Had its small parts been cut out by a machine or by hand?

I was on a mission. I spread the dissected body parts before me. Perhaps attempting to put them back together would provide me with some answers. But I wouldn’t even attempt to use a sewing  machine. I would carefully tack them together by hand. Several hours later, however, I hadn’t even managed to attach the first arm to the main body.

A trip home, to visit my mum, became a necessity. She was a skilled seamstress, past home-worker of many years’ standing, and experienced in the construction of clothing. I knew she would be able to help. Having made a pattern from the original, I painstakingly cut out  new pieces for its construction and presented them to  her on my next visit. She was intrigued by my request but, eager to indulge me, she took it on as a challenge. After about three hours of continuous work, my mother managed to recreate a creature very similar to the original Womble. She had succeeded where I had failed.

 

runner duck - constructed

   

To find out more about how Wellington was made, I had the idea of designing a toy myself of a similar size and build, with a view to putting it into production. I hoped that this would help me to answer some of the questions that had been triggered when I deconstructed Wellington.

My first task was to decide where my toy should be produced. I narrowed down my search to the Guangzhou district of southern China, where there are many factories producing plastic or soft toys. Products from these factories are often marketed by well known international companies, including McDonalds, who give away toys free with their ‘Happy Meals’.

I contacted various factories with my designs and requirements, but received only one reply, from a company with a main office in Shanghai. As a first step, the company said they were willing to produce a sample for me.

The design for my toy was of an Indian Runner Duck. The size was clearly marked on all my drawings, and was a crucial element in its production. I was very excited when the sample arrived several weeks later, but was surprised when it was unwrapped to find that the duck was huge – over three times the size of Wellington! The toy had been beautifully made, but for some reason the company had been unable to make it any smaller. The production cost they quoted was $1.45 per unit, for a minimum order of 6,000.

This only drove me to find out more. How could the company produce the toy so cheaply, especially taking into account all the costs of transportation, materials and labour?

I widened my search to include toy companies rather than factories, and approached several more firms with the same request. A toy company in the UK agreed to have a sample made in one of the factories they use in China. This time the size was correct – and he was cute!

The toy company were very helpful in answering some of my questions about the production of my duck. I now knew that the factory where my toy would be made was situated in Shanghai. From here, the finished toys would be transported by container ship from Shanghai port to either Southampton or Felixstowe in the UK. The toy would be made up of nineteen parts with hand-sewn eyes. The production cost would be £1.42 + VAT per unit for a minimum order of 1,200. This included transportation.