Dolls

Yesterday, five of us went to see Barbie.  Since some friends of mine have loved it, I was curious. I figured I could get past my lifelong dislike of the plastic Barbie, but--though all my companions loved it--it was a bridge too far for me.

As a 1970s budding feminist, I refused to buy my daughter a Barbie--though I did get her a Cabbage Patch, not the original adoptable baby doll, but the mass-produced plastic version. 

I remember stopping to check out Babyland once when we were traveling through Cleveland, Georgia. The originals (developed by a young male art student attending missionary school in North Georgia) were made of cloth, not plastic.  They were not "for sale," but for a hefty price, a girl could adopt one, get a birth certificate, and carry and stroller it around like a real baby.   

Then came Barbie!  At the beginning of the movie, we see little girls smashing their baby dolls in disgust and reaching for the new icon, grown-up Barbie. All those wardrobes, pink cars, pink houses, and a boyfriend named Ken--game changer!