It's a Barbie World
I don't know how old I was when I got my first Barbie doll. Five or six maybe. She was a tennis playing Barbie. She had sneakers and a tennis raquet. Not that I played with the raquet. Her arms didn't move and, well, there's just so much you can do when you're trying to shake hands with a raquet. She was no Bjorn Borg if you know what I mean.
On my 7th birthday I got what every little girl dreams of... the House. No, not the Dream House; the two story, white Victorian or whatever... I got the three story with the elevator. How cool was that?! Everyone loved the elevator... until the string broke.
Still, I loved my Barbies. I loved the house. I loved the clothing. I loved the purple corvette with the 8-track. And I loved my imagination.
During the Olympics, my Barbies were Ice Skaters or Gymnasts, doing terrific, dangerously innovating moves across the coffee table. Other times they raised hoards of children, taught aerobics, modeled or designed fashion. They ate dinner at their dining room table, and went camping under my bedskirt. They had family feuds, marital fights, mistresses and make-up sex.
Most of the time, I played alone. For hours. I'd shut my bedroom door and creativity oozed out of my fingertips. Every night was a new story. My imagination soared. I was content.
Then, I got a little sister. She liked Barbies too. But she wasn't like me. She didn't like stories. She had an attention span of a goldfish. All she wanted to do was change Barbie's outfits. She could go through both of ours combined in half an hour, and then she'd be out the door playing tag or hide-and-seek. Whatever. She was a product of the eighties, the Me Generation.
It's interesting looking back, and realizing what one could be content with. Oh, yeah, there was always that one Barbie toy that you just had to have. For me it was the Barbie pool. That would have been cool. Instead, I got the pink bathtub and toilet set. Hey, it flushed man! That was one cool toilet.
Who am I kidding? That was the dumbest toy I've ever received. I don't even remember who gave it to me, probably a psychological safety mechanism to save us both from the embarassment. I mean, seriously. In all my imaginings, I never once had Barbie use the loo. Who does that? Was it supposed to be a subliminal message of "Barbie flushes her toilet, so should you"? The Marketing Departmet's Hygene Team hard at work. I would bet money it didn't sell well. Why would a kid want that much "reality" in their play? There's no fun in that.
Or, am I alone in this?
I was watching Tv today. It appears Barbie has a new doggy named Tanner. Tanner poops, and Barbie uses a pooper-tong device to clean up Tanner's "presents". Nice. I guess... it does teach kids responsibility... and environmental friendliness... Yeah, I'm willing to bet that doesn't sell well either.
On my 7th birthday I got what every little girl dreams of... the House. No, not the Dream House; the two story, white Victorian or whatever... I got the three story with the elevator. How cool was that?! Everyone loved the elevator... until the string broke.
Still, I loved my Barbies. I loved the house. I loved the clothing. I loved the purple corvette with the 8-track. And I loved my imagination.
During the Olympics, my Barbies were Ice Skaters or Gymnasts, doing terrific, dangerously innovating moves across the coffee table. Other times they raised hoards of children, taught aerobics, modeled or designed fashion. They ate dinner at their dining room table, and went camping under my bedskirt. They had family feuds, marital fights, mistresses and make-up sex.
Most of the time, I played alone. For hours. I'd shut my bedroom door and creativity oozed out of my fingertips. Every night was a new story. My imagination soared. I was content.
Then, I got a little sister. She liked Barbies too. But she wasn't like me. She didn't like stories. She had an attention span of a goldfish. All she wanted to do was change Barbie's outfits. She could go through both of ours combined in half an hour, and then she'd be out the door playing tag or hide-and-seek. Whatever. She was a product of the eighties, the Me Generation.
It's interesting looking back, and realizing what one could be content with. Oh, yeah, there was always that one Barbie toy that you just had to have. For me it was the Barbie pool. That would have been cool. Instead, I got the pink bathtub and toilet set. Hey, it flushed man! That was one cool toilet.
Who am I kidding? That was the dumbest toy I've ever received. I don't even remember who gave it to me, probably a psychological safety mechanism to save us both from the embarassment. I mean, seriously. In all my imaginings, I never once had Barbie use the loo. Who does that? Was it supposed to be a subliminal message of "Barbie flushes her toilet, so should you"? The Marketing Departmet's Hygene Team hard at work. I would bet money it didn't sell well. Why would a kid want that much "reality" in their play? There's no fun in that.
Or, am I alone in this?
I was watching Tv today. It appears Barbie has a new doggy named Tanner. Tanner poops, and Barbie uses a pooper-tong device to clean up Tanner's "presents". Nice. I guess... it does teach kids responsibility... and environmental friendliness... Yeah, I'm willing to bet that doesn't sell well either.
posted by Laila at 4:07 PM
1 Comments:
Hi Laila,
I enjoyed this post - it brought me back to my own Barbie days. I'm older than you, so my Barbie dream house was made out of cardboard, and my dad had to assemble it (that was NOT a pretty Christmas morning!) It was however, still the envy of all the neighborhood girls. And unlike today, I only owned ONE Barbie doll...nowadays, little girls own entire communities of them! I'll never forget the day one of the neighborhood dogs snatched my Barbie and took off with it. I was eventually able to retrieve it, but the dog had MANGLED her neck! Figuring I was in deep trouble with my parents for being careless with my toys, I hid her in my closet for months before my mom discovered her. Thanks for the memory!
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