When I was a little girl in the late nineteen fifties I played with dolls with my girlfriends from the neighborhood. I had a Madame Alexander doll named Crissy that had lovely blonde curls and wore high heels. I created a world for Crissy using boxes and fabric to make furniture. I collected miniature items to use in decorating her little home that I set up on the driveway. My mother added to the fun by sewing new outfits for her. I pretended that Crissy was an airline stewardess living in New York City.
I’ll never forget the day when my friend, Kathy, who lived across the street came to the pretend time with a brand new doll that she said had been named after her big sister, Barbara. The doll known as Barbie had a long blonde pony tail and looked way more glamorous and grown up than my Crissy. She even bore such a resemblance to Kathy’s sister that I believed that the Barbie doll was indeed inspired by the real life Barbara that I knew.
I stayed loyal to my Crissy doll but also fell in love with Kathy’s Barbie. When I grew up and had two daughters of my own I could not wait for them to be old enough to graduate from baby dolls to one of the many versions of Barbie that had become a phenomenon. Before long Maryellen and Catherine too were playing make believe with their friends and the many different Barbies that they had collected.
One Christmas my husband Mike built a house for the Barbies that had four rooms. I had a blast decorating each section with paint, wallpaper, carpet, flooring and rugs. I built furniture just as I had done as a little girl, but this time my creations were more substantial and sturdy. It was so exciting to see both girls screeching with joy on Christmas Day as they walked in to find a Barbie house unlike any other.
I had also found a woman who sewed Barbie clothes that were quite fashionable. I purchased many different outfits that allowed the Barbies living in our home to work and play in style. The Barbies with their house and accessories kept both of my daughters and their friends entertained for hours on end. It gave me a warm feeling to watch the girls having the same kind of fun that I had enjoyed when I was also a little girl. I knew that pretend time was a kind of therapy for deciding what paths to follow in life. It is an acting out of our hopes and dreams
My mother-in-law often took the children on shopping adventures at the mall. They invariably returned with a new Barbie chosen for her hair or outfit or the profession that she portrayed. Before long we had a whole dormitory of Barbies who resided in the house that Mike built. They slept on the beds, lounged on the sofa and chairs or prepared food in the kitchen. Sometimes they went on trips in the car parked near their home.
Once we purchased raffle tickets for some kind of charity that I can’t recall, but what I do remember is that in an unusual streak of good luck Mike won a prize, a Barbie Dream House. I thought our daughters were going to float up to the moon. Since the quarters in the hand crafted Barbie home was very crowded, the Dream House came in quite handy. Suddenly there was a village of Barbies under our roof.
As always happens with children the years flew past and before long my Maryellen and Catherine were feeling grown up and had little interest in playing with their Barbie dolls. They were packed away and stored in the far reaches of the closet. The house that Mike built became a repository for books and other possessions, a shelf for storing things. It would not be until my granddaughter, Abby, showed an interest in such things that the house moved to her bedroom and was remodeled by Catherine with new paint and updated furniture.
When I think of Barbie I smile because I remember first meeting that iconic doll when my friend, Kathy, introduced me to her. I can still hear the giggles and joy that Barbie brought to my Mayellen and Catherine and their friends Lynn and Missy and Lisa. I watched their Barbie dolls grow in stature and become confident enough to evolve as a role models willing to tackle the many challenges of being a woman in the make believe worlds that many little girls have always loved to create. Just as my Crissy doll had the courage to move to New York City from Texas to become an airline stewardess, my daughter’s Barbies became doctors, explorers, scientists. Over time Barbie showed little girls that they could be anything that they wished to be.
When the Barbie movie opened I wanted to go see it with one of my daughters. Somehow it would not have been right to watch in with anyone else except maybe Kathy. Maryellen and I ended up attending a screening with my grandson, Eli, and his girlfriend, Elizabeth. Everyone wanted to dress for the occasion so we all wore pink. Elizabeth had her hair pulled back into a long pony tail and I was stunned at how much she resembled the Barbie that Kathy had shown me in the long ago. Eli good naturedly pulled off a very good impersonation of Ken.
It was fun to see women and young girls of all ages flocking into the theater, taking photos of themselves, laughing and sharing their personal memories of playing with their Barbie dolls. Maryellen and I chuckled all the way through the movie as we remembered the many different Barbies that had once lived in our home. The film brought back so many precious memories of times that were so innocent and filled with joy. It also made us think about how far women have gone from that time in the nineteen fifties when women had a difficult time breaking the glass ceiling that hovered over their heads. So much has changed since I was a little girl and celebrating Barbie who went on the journey with me and all of the women who knew and loved her seemed liked the right thing to do. It’s amazing how much a little doll brought all of us together, different generations linked by the same kind of hopes and dreams. We’ve come a long long way!
All It Takes Is A Little Love 