In the beginning, Barbie was an unlikely companion for me and my sister—well, mostly my sister. If there was ever a young girl who detested dresses, bows, and all things feminine, it was Erika. Unlike other little girls who wanted to play dress-up with feather boas and talk about cute boys, Erika wanted to wear ripped jeans and flannel shirts and keep up with the cute boys. From her fondness of shopping in the Boy’s Department at Caldor to her bowl haircut, Erika was a serious tomboy. I, as the younger sister, strictly followed the dress code and hobbies demonstrated by Erika, despite my own desire to wear frilly dresses, keep my hair long (which I did), and pretend to be a Disney Princess. However, as different as our interests were, Erika and I always had one thing in common, and that was our love for Barbie dolls.
Erika and I had a modest collection of Barbie dolls. A couple of Barbie dolls, a few Ken dolls, and even a Skipper and Stacy doll. Some were hand-me-downs from our older cousin, others birthday and Christmas gifts. Over the years, our collection grew. Obviously all of the Disney Princesses were represented, but we also added a variety of Ken dolls, Skipper dolls, Stacey dolls, and then Kelly dolls. We had all ages and races. Each doll had a name, and Erika and I remembered each name, as if it were a close friend with whom we had special relationship.
Together, my sister and I dressed our dolls, developed characters and personalities for them, and even crafted family trees, building meaningful relationships amongst our plastic friends—but more importantly amongst ourselves. “Playing Barbies” would always be a personal activity with my sister, a bond between us. When we played with our Barbie dolls, we just understood each other; we had a telepathic connection of sorts. And when our Beanie Babies and stuffed animals retired to the attic, the Barbie dolls always remained within close proximity, readily available for playing when we longed to launch ourselves back to childhood.
Fifteen years ago, my sister and I were in Target looking at movies when curiosity urged us down the Barbie doll aisle right across from the media. We didn’t leave Target with a new movie, but we did leave with two new Barbie dolls: a Hawaiian doll and a Ken doll. Opening the box, untying all of the twist-ties holding the dolls in place, and finally holding the plastic miniature person in our hands brought back memories and that excitement of getting something new. When we showed our mother our new purchases, she asked “What are you going to do with them?” We couldn’t play with them (that had gotten boring), but we couldn’t just add them to storage either.
That’s when my sister and I came up with the idea for Mattel Monthly, a pseudo-magazine centered on the townspeople of Hailey, Idaho, where all the pictures would be scenes using Barbie dolls and props. Content would be fictional as well, but serve its purpose as a fake magazine. My sister and I orchestrated the stories and articles we would feature and the photo-shoots that went along with them, completing the magazine through traditional scrapbooking techniques.
Even though the Mattel Monthly did not get “published” monthly, it did become a tradition (at least bi-annually) with my sister, not to mention a raved-about publication by our family and friends. It was a time when my sister and I made time to hang out with each other, which had become less common with three years age difference and our individual social lives between us. For at least two weeks, my sister and I worked together, bouncing ideas off of each other, balancing Barbie dolls to create lifelike scenes, sifting through our bins of Barbie accessories to put the utmost detail in each scene. After getting all of our photos, we printed them and started the actual magazine production, taking over the office desk, where my sister snipped and strategically placed photos while I wrote and printed the articles and blurbs, all until the “issue” was completed.
Over the course of 15 years, Erika and I have managed to fill over 6 scrapbooks with at least 15 issues of Mattel Monthly and a couple of short stories with Barbie “illustrations.” We’ve shared our hobby with family and friends, but with the amount of enthusiasm and pride Erika have for Mattel Monthly, we wanted to share it with a bigger audience. While not the most tech-saavy person, I decided to get with the times and start a blog, reserving a special page for my Barbie friends.
I understand that Barbie is not accepted by all. Barbie dolls are a controversial subject regarding influence and body image. Yes, Barbie is skinny, yes she is beautiful, yes her dimensions are unrealistic, but Barbie is more than that. She is a tool for creativity. She allows children to use their imaginations, create their own worlds, live out their dreams. She gives them the push to believe that they can do anything, be anybody they want to be. Sure Barbie is known for her fashionable style, but she is also known for being literally any profession too: a doctor, a pilot, a vet, a dentist, an astronaut, a basketball player, a baseball player, a rock star, etc. She can be anything. Despite scrutiny and media manipulation, Barbie represents a strong and independent female role. She also represents a bond between sisters.
SubArbia 