Sweet music

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Kristine Willems loves the sound of a music box. The tinkling notes make the Melbourne mother of four completely forget herself. In fact, the moment she hears them she’s transported to a different time and place. “Music boxes sound like fairies dancing,” says Kristine, with a dreamy, faraway look on her face. “They make me feel like a kid again. I don’t know why exactly,” she adds with a shrug. “It’s just… they’re beautiful and I love them.”

The 33-year-old Notebook: reader has loved music boxes since she was a child and her collection is a huge part of her life. It sits in an old-fashioned crockery cabinet in her living room and Kristine can often be found nearby. “I play them all... It’s such a quiet, pretty sound and when you’ve got four kids, listening to something quiet is precious.”

Kristine’s collection includes 21 music boxes. She did have 22, but one came to an untimely end during a recent move from Queensland. Kristine was crushed, though not because the music box was particularly valuable or one of her favourites; she says it was simply difficult to see a part of her collection disappear.

“It was a swagman music box,” Kristine recalls. “He played ‘Waltzing Matilda’, but during the move his face was smashed and he broke off his base. I wasn’t devastated exactly, but I was upset. The collection means a lot to me.”

That’s not surprising when you consider many of Kristine’s music boxes have been with her since she was a girl. Her first was a roughly hewn wooden version made by her father, John Kippen, and she still has it. “This is it here,” says Kristine, lovingly cradling the musical toy in her hands. “My father had a broken toy and it had a little hurdy-gurdy inside. He didn’t want to throw it out so he made a wooden paddle and attached it to that. He gave it to me and I loved it. It plays ‘Swan Lake’ and it still works.”

Kristine says she imagines it was this gift from her father that started her passion. Her great-aunt Zora Stewart also fuelled the fire by giving her a music box in the shape of a Swiss chalet. But it was when Kristine had her first child in 1992 that her love for music boxes really took hold. “Annie was just a baby when I went into a $2 junk shop and there was a music box,” says Kristine. “It was a miniature cot with a little teddy holding a bottle. When the music played, the cot would rock from side to side. I knew Annie would love it so I bought it. It made us both so happy that I just felt I needed more.”

Kristine’s budget was tight so she spent much of her time poking about in second-hand stores and flea markets. Although many of the music boxes she bought during this period were inexpensive, they still provided her with much pleasure.

“You can buy expensive music boxes, and I have, but the cheap ones are every bit as enjoyable,” says Kristine. “They’re all made in much the same way and they all play the same type of music; the amount you pay for them is not what matters.”

About a year after Annie was born Kristine gave birth to her second daughter, Emily. Again she celebrated with the purchase of a music box. Kristine and her baby girls adored it. Then in 1994 Kristine’s marriage broke down and her collection of tiny, musical toys took on a new and important role. On lonely nights she would listen to the tinkling notes and immediately feel better.

Not surprisingly, Kristine became determined to buy even more. “When my first marriage ended I suddenly had real control over my own money and I started buying more music boxes,” she says. “It was then that I discovered The Franklin Mint collection. I saw the ads in several magazines and I knew I had to have them.”

Kristine paid for the music boxes, which are replicas of those from the famous House of Fabergé in Russia, in instalments. After a year or two, she’d bought the entire set. The Franklin Mint collection now takes pride of place on the top of her old-fashioned cabinet. “They’re definitely my favourites,” says Kristine, “I love the pictures painted on them.”

Just underneath The Franklin Mint set sits the wooden paddle from Kristine’s dad. If you look closely you can spot the Swiss chalet from great-aunt Zora on the shelf below that. There’s also a music box in the shape of Santa Claus, a copper globe, and a sewing machine complete with two cats stitching cloth. There’s a miniature Clark Gable and Vivien Leigh in a classic Gone with the Wind pose, an antique jewellery box with a tiny man pulling a rickshaw, and an Elvis that plays ‘Hunk of Burning Love’. Each and every one has a story to it.

“This angel was my mum’s,” says Kristine, carefully lifting a white cherub out of the case. “She used to bring her out every Christmas. And this one here is an antique powder compact,” she says, reaching for another. “It’s been over-wound so I have to get it fixed, but when it’s working it plays beautiful music.”

Kristine’s music box cabinet is straining at the seams, but she sees no need to stop collecting. At least, not yet. “Maybe if I was being crowded out of my house and I was dusting 24 hours a day I might feel as though I had too many,” Kristine laughs. “Maybe I should stop, but the collection gives me such a lot,” she continues softly. “I have children and a husband, and everything I do is for them. I don’t really have my own life or my own identity. I’m so busy and when I do have time to just sit I tend to think of the things that I should be doing. But if I’m with the music boxes I forget everything. I’m completely focused on them and it’s not about anyone else; it’s just for me and that’s lovely.”

Words: Kelly Baker. Photography: Andrew Lehmann. Hair & make-up: Ruth Sebire.   Styling: Michelle Cammiade.