It’s a rainy Saturday in August, so I asked Rebecca if she’d like to go see an afternoon matinee instead of cleaning out the garage.
Her: Sure. What did you have in mind?
Me: How about the “Barbie” movie?
Her: Um, no, thanks. I’ll be in the garage.
Point taken.
As a feminist, I really should have no intention of ever seeing “Barbie.” From what I’ve heard and read, the Greta Gerwig film, which hit theaters in July, is an outright insult to women at a time when our rights (reproductive and otherwise) are under attack.
But how bad can it be if the moral of the story is that both fake plastic Mattel dolls without all of their parts find purpose outside of being boyfriend and girlfriend? Doesn’t sound so awful to me.
More like a journey of self-discovery after an existential crisis.
As of this writing, it has raked in more than $1 billion worldwide at the box office. Existential this, Babs.
Short for Barbara Millicent Roberts, Barbie came out (not like that) on March 9, 1959, nearly a year before I was born. Mattel debuted the iconic doll at the New York Toy Fair wearing a black and white striped swimsuit and her signature ponytail, in either blonde or brunette.
At the time, she was supposed to be 19 years old, which by now, would make her, what, 83? Wow.
Ken was introduced in 1961. They apparently met on the set of a TV commercial, but Ken had more than 40 occupations, ranging from astronaut to Olympic athlete to spy. Other phases of Ken included 1993’s “Earring Magic Ken” (so gay) and “Sugar Daddy Ken,” a 2009 Palm Springs line that included a West Highland Terrier named Sugar. Woof.
As if. Of course, both became collector’s items.
Midge, Barbie’s best friend, was released in 1963.
Aside: Poor Midge was later axed from production for being “too weird.” WTH? More likely, it was because of “Pregnant Midge” with the magnetic, removable belly. Swear to God. She was legally married to that nerd Alan, for goodness’ sake.
Then, Barbie’s little sister, Skipper, joined the group in 1964. The first African-American male Ken doll, Brad, was introduced in 1968. He dated Barbie’s Black friend, Christie, introduced in 1967.
When I was about 10, I “played Barbies” on the front porch of my grandparents’ old brick house on Wilfred with my best pal, Cheryl Turner. We lived in the home’s upper flat on the East Side of Detroit.
Aside: Mrs. Turner let Cheryl eat whatever she wanted. And her father played electric guitar. I loved visiting them. First time I ever had wax beans.
Nearly all of my Barbie clothes were sewn by my mom. It was 1970.
“Why buy them? These are much more stylish,” she would assure me.
And original. And less expensive than mass-produced ones sold in stores.
Using old scraps from her home projects and sale items from JoAnn Fabrics, Mom created all kinds of cool Barbie couture for me: faux furs, lace gowns, a hot pink jumpsuit, plaid miniskirt, white tennis outfit and a smart raincoat that would put London Fog to shame. Oh, and a pink cotton robe and nightgown. All with meticulously placed snaps and pockets and details not found in store-bought crap. Not that I would know.
On tiny plastic hangers, I would hang each piece like a work of art inside that huge bifold red vinyl carrying case, which I still have on a shelf in our basement. Ageless Barbie’s in there, too, along with Ken, whose wardrobe was skimpy compared to hers.
“Guys don’t need that many clothes,” Mom would reason. “Just a good pair of trousers, a nice dress shirt and a sport coat. And decent shoes.”
Why am I not surprised at her sensibility, even after all of these years? Not sure she knew about the cowboy hat and vest Ken wore to hoedowns.
In my 10-year-old world, Ken was Barbie’s boyfriend. They dated, went to parties but never, ever did overnights. My Barbie was a nice Catholic girl who attended college and was going to make something of herself, man or no man by her side.
Ken’s best friend was G.I Joe, a brown-bearded brute relegated to an army green foot locker holding his fatigues, helmets, guns and camouflage poncho. Apparently, Joe was prepared to be called for duty at a moment’s notice, complete with dress blues, white boots and a captain’s hat.
Surely, he had some hobbies to express his softer side. A kinder, gentler Joe. Hallmark movies, gardening and long walks on the beach. OK, I’ll stop now.
Pardon the sentimentality, but during my extensive research for this post, I noticed that My Joe appears to be MIA from his foot locker, which also is still collecting dust in our basement. (Sells for $25 on eBay. I’ll take $20 since Joe’s a goner.)
Frankly, by the time I was 12, I suspected Ken was a better match for Joe than Barbie, missing parts notwithstanding.
Have I ever mentioned that I never got the Barbie Dream House? Never. Again, a waste of your father’s hard-earned money, Mom would say.
“Build your own house,” my ever-resourceful (read: frugal) mother added.
So, I cobbled together my own damn dream house: Several shoebox-sized rooms stacked high to create multi-level floors. A cardboard cutout couch and side tables. Hand-drawn paintings on the walls. A designer bed made from a gift box covered in a floral pink/lime bedspread complete with pillow and dust ruffle. (Thanks for that summer visit, dear Aunt Nores.)
And, of course, a “sporty convertible” made from an empty size 10 men’s Johnston & Murphy box found in my dad’s closet. Those bucket seats took a while to make. I think I used Dixie cups. More masking tape, please.
I’ve often wondered (well, mostly just today, actually) what 80-something Barbie would think of all this hoopla about her in 2023. And how her poor feet have fared after wearing those god-awful high heels.
I can see Barbara Millicent Roberts on her Apple iPhone 14 Pro Max 256GB in Deep Purple (not pink), pulling up her pristine red 1965 Mustang convertible to a Starbucks drive-in window and ordering a Grande Caramel Macchiato.
“Five bucks for a cup of coffee? Holy smokes!” she’d say, before handing the barista a ten spot and telling her to keep the change.
But not before thanking her and giving some sage advice.
“Build your own dream house, baby girl.”
20 Comments
Aunt Barbie
I am 75. I hadn’t paid much attention to the “Barbie” movie. I thought it was a kid flick. I finally got curious and started reading about it. I went to see it today. I haven’t laughed out loud that much in years! When I wasn’t laughing, I sat there with a smile on my face. I loved the movie. It was just what I needed. I, too, retired from the newspaper, so I started researching the backstory of the movie and how it came about, even reading a piece in Vanity Fair before it was released, before it broke box office records and made more than $1B. I never played with Barbie, nor did my daughter, but I do appreciate how the character has evolved for a new generation.
Jennifer John
Thanks so much, “Aunt Barbie.” Do we know each other?
Verna Smith
I have Barbie’s Dream House in my garage with all the pieces. Along with the original Barbie and Ken’s wardrobe and carrying case in blue. This came from Stella’s. It was Paulette’s, who wants nothing to do with it. If you know someone interested, I’ve got it. Love from Verna!
Jennifer John
Verna, you’re full of surprises! Time for a visit. I’ll drive anywhere for a Barbie Dream House!
Julie M Sayers
Fun! Lots of discussion about this movie. My daughter said she is going to take her daughter, 8, and son, 11, because he needs some feminism. She was really never into Barbie. Loved her baby dolls and Cabbage Patches, and books and Legos. Thanks, Jennifer. She is Jennifer also.
Jennifer John
Love that! Thanks, Julie.
Martha Miller
Oh my! I was an avid Barbie player. I had quite a few of the clan, including a couple of Kens. Being the only girl in my Third World household, hours were spent in creating stories where the girls ruled. They were also tramps and had no problem bedding Ken in what today would be known as a “thrupple.” I am seeing the movie this afternoon and am looking forward to it. If it wasn’t for Barbie and her friends and family, I would never have understood sex or the power of looking good no matter how you feel inside. Loved the history lesson!
Jennifer John
You’re killing me, Millah. Let me know how you like the movie.
Kathy Correale
Boy, did that bring back memories! My mom and aunt made sure Barbie was one well-dressed hottie with the homemade outfits. I had the black vinyl carrying case and the Barbie car, but she was homeless.
Jennifer John
That’s so funny, Kathy. Our relatives were cut from the same cloth! Wonder if “Homeless Barbie” was a flop?
Maureen Dunphy
Such a great blog posting, Jen! Thanks for a good start to an afternoon at my desk when I’d really rather be outside playing in my garden. My Barbie had a large wardrobe that was entirely knitted by a colleague of my dad’s. I was not as impressed as I should have been.
Jennifer John
A knitted wardrobe? Oh my. That sounds fancy. Thanks, MD.
Anita
I wasn’t into Barbie, but Lina was. She made the fabulous clothes for her Barbie. Now I want to see your mom’s creations.
Jennifer John
And I’ll bet they were all accessorized! Thanks, Anita.
Elaine
OMG, Jen. I loved this! My sister and I had a whole collection of Barbies (including the camper, dream house, pool, etc.) BUT we had more fun building a house with our Nan, wallpapering the rooms, making the furniture and then taking them out in the woods where we would sit and play all day! Oh, this brought back so many wonderful memories.
Jennifer John
Funny how we don’t forget those fun times where we played all day! Thanks, E.
paul maggiacomo
Just read your blog. It put me on the floor. Now I know why Jim changed his name. It was Ken Milligan.
Jennifer John
You’re a horrible person! Thanks, Magg.
Elyse Rook
I disliked Barbie. I wanted the Lincoln Log Set and the plastic green Army men that were in about 7 different positions, and after that phase the Erector Set was my Ultimate Favorite.
Jennifer John
I could see you with the Army guys, E. Thanks!