Oh Barbie, My Barbie

An Homage to My Homegirl

I’ll bet you thought you’d seen every take on the Barbie movie there was to be seen.  The debates over whether Barbieland was a society in perfect balance, or whether it was a mirror image of the real world, where sexism is practiced in reverse.  The explanations of how the Mattel execs knew how to get to Barbieland, and what, if anything, they learned once they got there.  Whether, in the end, Ken really was kenough (Oscar nomination notwithstanding.)  And what about Alan?

But before I give you a take you haven’t seen, a disclaimer:

Despite standing by my original review that the movie is “a hot pink mess” (for example I am still struggling to understand how it tracks that all the Barbies had the same name but not the same face – I mean, why was Margo Robbie the only one to actually look like the doll?)  I enjoyed the movie immensely.  All the jokes that needed to be made were well made.  It provided relevant and thought-provoking commentary on society – commentary that at one point was delivered smack on the nose by America Ferrara’s speech for those who don’t recognize commentary when it comes with jokes.   On top of that the story was a touching journey of personal discovery and enlightenment.  And while at times I thought to myself, “What the fuck am I watching?” I never wanted to stop watching.

Okay, here’s my take: That wasn’t the real Barbie.

Nope.  That was Malibu Barbie, a 70s reimagining of the original 50s Barbie intended to address the sexism concerns raised by the women’s movement of the 60s.  The original Barbie only made a brief, and brilliant appearance in the movie with the 2001: A Space Odyssey parody.   And while I felt that her total disappearance thereafter felt something like a bait-and-switch, I’m actually happy Greta Gerwig largely ignored the first incarnation of Barbie.  Mostly because I’m fine with leaving my relationship with that doll untouched by someone else’s narrative.

But I do take exception to Gerwig’s dismissal of OG Barbie (OGB?), via an almost throwaway line from the narrator, as a politically incorrect mistake from a bygone era that needed to be corrected. That the Barbie in the black and white swimsuit, rocking a pair of cat’s eye sunglasses, was a vapid cypher of a female, unaware of the glass ceiling she lived under – never mind hoping to smash it.  In this, Gerwig was way off the mark.

The original Barbie wasn’t a doll who only aspired to be a nurse and never a doctor.  The Barbie of my childhood already had a career, she was a friggin’ Teenage Fashion Model.  In fact, she may have been the first Supermodel.  My Barbie was so successful in her job that even after buying her own Dream House, she could still afford a salmon pink Austin Healy with turquoise seats!

If Ken had played pro football, the Republicans probably would have blamed her for Nixon’s loss to Kennedy. (Note to self: update this reference in five years.)

More to the point, when I played with my Barbie it was never about female potential or denial thereof.  It was all about the clothes!  Anyone who thinks otherwise hasn’t done their research.  The outfits you could buy back then were tiny miracles of design and construction.  They were the fashions from every Audrey Hepburn movie made real and in miniature.  Jackets of gold brocade, impeccably tailored, with fur accents and fully lined in sky blue silk!  Pink satin evening gowns with sweeping, full skirts pinned asymmetrically at the waist with a matching fabric rose.  Capri pants to go along with a perfect angora cardigan set with pearl buttons barely larger than the head of a pin.  I could go on and on, but I have tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat just remembering the 1:6 scale apple and tiny alarm clock that came with her babydoll pajama set.

In all my days playing with my Barbie I never once fantasized about having her boobs, her body, or her boyfriend.  What I coveted was her wardrobe.  So, guess what?  I taught myself how to sew.  And I’m no exception.  While I didn’t make it my profession, plenty of women (and men!) did.  To this day, practically every major name in the world of fashion design has partnered with Mattel on Special Edition dolls.  I’ll bet any costume designer on any sound stage around the world can trace at least some part of their career ambition to that mini mannequin.

OG Barbie was an icon and an inspiration.  And she deserves recognition for that…

But now that I think about it, My Barbie did make an appearance in that movie.  To those of us who have been fans from the beginning, it’s obvious that every stitch in every costume on every character in Barbieland — and apparently beyond — owes its life to the Teenage Fashion Model that started it all.  Need proof?  As the saying goes, a picture is worth… well, you get it.