Beginning in the 17th century, “Nuremberg kitchens” might contain a hearth, cooking pots, a straw broom. These all-metal houses were designed without ornament, for purely utilitarian purposes. Used as teaching tools for girls, Nuremberg kitchens allowed mothers to show daughters how to set up and control a house. All about learning rules, a Nuremberg kitchen was the opposite of a dollhouse as a dream world of fantasy. It was a place where girls learned to manage not only the objects of the house but also its servants, where girls would learn to become the lady of the house.

By 18th-century England, the “Baby House” emerged. The Baby House was an exact copy of the owner’s home, a replica designed to showcase the owner’s wealth—a small, “baby” version of a real-life house. Unlike the Dutch Cabinet House, which might have miniature furniture but tended to be full of expensive or rare objects, the Baby House was full of furniture in tiny versions of the owner’s rooms.

Changing definitions of childhood in the beginning of the 19th century shifted ideas about play. But it took the industrial revolution and the increase in mass-produced objects to make dollhouses and miniatures begin to be construed as toys. And it took until after World War II, when the U.S. stopped importing goods from Europe, for dollhouses to become mass-produced and affordable. Miniatures began to take on a second, different life.

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In the last few years, for the first time since the 1970s, interest in dollhouses and miniatures has been on the rise.

#rethinkdollhouse is the hashtag owner Darren Thomas Scala invented for his store D. Thomas Fine Miniatures, a new miniature shop in Westchester County, New York. In the shop are dollhouses arranged on pedestals, shelves of furniture behind glass, a gallery space with rotating miniature exhibits, and a room where miniature-making workshops are held. Darren tells me that he hopes to upset the perception that miniatures are just cute toys for young children. “I needed people to see, feel, and touch these objects,” he explains, “to see their fine craftsmanship, the delicacies and intricacies of how they are made and importantly how they make you feel. ...I wanted to make them feel like it’s okay to play.”

Indeed, many adults who loved tiny things as children are returning to miniature play and reclaiming dollhouses. In the past year, articles in Lenny Letter, BUST, Elle, and The New York Times tell stories of miniature artisans and collectors. Lena Dunham’s film Tiny Furniture explores her mother Laurie Simmon’s miniature art. The age of Dollhouse 2.0 is upon us.

Dollhouses are enthralling a new and younger generation, and social media is the mode of engagement. Thousands of mini-blogs and vlogs showcase dollhouses, mini-furniture, and miniature food. Etsy, Pinterest, and Tumblr are replete with miniatures for display and sale. Other blogs showcase dollhouse furniture being made and dollhouses being renovated, with text and photos.