“Welcome to my house. Come freely. Go safely, and leave something of the happiness you bring"
-Brahm Stoker
Embedded Files
Bad Dog Dolls is where the weird, the wonderful, and the downright wicked come home to roost and party.
Born in the USA and raised as a true 1970s wild child, I’ve spent decades prowling flea markets, estate sales, dusty garage corners, thrift-store bins, and the darkest alleys of eBay in search of the strange and beautiful.
My shelves groan under an eclectic horde of antique and vintage toys, creepy-cute curiosities, and dolls that stare back a little too knowingly; every monster, misfit, and macabre treasure either rescued from someone’s “get rid of it” pile or lovingly commissioned just for me.
Frankenstein’s Monster and the Creature from the Black Lagoon and wolfman are old friends here (Dracula drops by often, too), surrounded by fellow ghouls, oddlings, and things that go bump in the night. Some pieces hail from long-forgotten personal collections that I’ve absorbed whole; others are one-of-a-kind customs built by artists who share my twisted vision. Every doll and toy has a story, usually involving cobwebs, and not always bargain prices, and that delicious little shiver you get when something watches you from the corner of the room.
This isn’t just a collection; it’s a lifelong love letter to the gloriously creepy. Pull up a crypt, kick the dirt off your boots, and stay awhile.
Bad Dog Dolls is always hungry for new admirers.
CREEPY CUTE CURIOUS THINGS
“found it, traded it, bought it, made it or stole it.
Either way, I got it.
- OXOXO Bad Dog
The 70s were the absolute best time to grow up: everything was groovy, the music rocked, the clothes were loud, and the shoes (oh, those glorious platform shoes & boots) could make a kid feel ten feet tall. That’s when the collecting madness officially began for me. My very first love was Topper’s Dawn dolls, those tiny, long-lashed little fashion queens with their perfect little heads and groovy little wardrobes. I was hooked. Over the years along with my childhood Honey's, I hunted down damn near every outfit, every accessory, every microscopic pair of shoes & boots those girls ever wore that were to my taste. I was at flea markets & Estate Sales before the sun even thought about coming up.
Of course, I couldn’t stop there. A few Flatsy's, some Leggy dolls, and the occasional weird clone Barbie type doll with rooted eyelashes or with a wonky eye slid into the mix, anything that looked a little off, a little strange, a little “nobody else is gonna want this.” Yeah, I loved the misfits.
Then Universal Monsters crashed the party. Every time a company released a new Frankenstein, Dracula, or Creature from the Black Lagoon figure, I had to have it. Didn’t matter if it was Remco, Mego, Imperial, or some random drugstore glow-in-the-dark special; if it had bolts, fangs, or gills, it came home with me.
And then… Monster High happened.
One look at Draculaura in her pink-and-black glory and I was done for. I dove head-first into the OG lines, chasing every new release like it was 1972 and somebody just rolled up with a fresh box of Dawn Dolls & Cases. But it didn’t stop at the store shelves. Oh no. The customs started calling my name: artists painting more pretty scars on Frankies face, giving Clawdeen real fur and turning Lagoona into a proper Gill-man bride. Suddenly my shelves weren’t just collections anymore; they were graveyards, laboratories, and haunted proms full of one-of-a-kind ghouls. Those OOAK's were mine. only mine! BWAHAHAHAAA.
That sweet little 70s Dawn doll obsession? It grew fangs, bolted its neck, and learned how to howl at the moon. And honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.
"It's men you should be afraid of, not monsters."
‒ Niccolo Ammaniti.
Fast-forward to today, 2025, and the Bad Dog Dolls house is still equal parts groovy and gloriously spooky. My walls are bursting at the seams with the keepers—the pieces that survived decades of buying, selling, trading, and the occasional “okay, I’ll let this one go” moment. What’s left is the absolute heart of the collection, the stuff that refused to leave and still makes my pulse race every single time I walk into the room.
Every corner is full, every shelf is double-stacked, and the energy is pure monster magic. I’ve moved thousands of pieces through these hands over the years, but what you see now? These are the lifers, the ride-or-die ghouls, the ones that made me fall in love with the weird all over again.
The fog machine’s warm, the records are spooky, and Bad Dog Dolls is always open for fellow monster lovers.
More misfits coming soon! Follow these Ghouls on Insta!
"Welcome to my Nightmare. I think you are gonna like it."
‒ Alice Cooper
C'Mon and meet some of the family.
Contact:
"Dolls with no little girls around to mind them were sort of creepy under any conditions."
-Stephen King
Bad dogs don’t steal bones, we just bury them and guard them with our lives. Some of the residents got their fangs, fur, or funeral gowns from ridiculously cool artists. See your work? JUST GROWL OR HOWL. If you’re the original sinner who brought one of these Mongrels to life, raise a paw and I’ll chain a shiny credit tag to it faster than you can say ‘full moon.’ Hit me: BadDogDolls@gmail.com or @baddogdolls on Insta. Your art, my shelf, our creepy little secret—let’s make it official. XX
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