When the Barbie doll was introduced in 1959, my doll-playing days were over. By age nine I had lost interest in my one remaining baby doll and was transitioning to a stormy adolescence—one where people said mean things and my parents often behaved abominably. By the time the Malibu dreamhouse and pink Corvette were introduced on early sixties TV, I was way done.
Thirty years later, I got a chance to make up for my abbreviated girlhood when I took a gig producing a series of Barbie books for 8 to 12 year-olds girls (in the time before gender neutrality). Left-leaning friends were surprised at how quickly I shelved my feminist ideals and dove into channeling the empty-headed fashion model. But I couldn’t resist living, breathing, thinking and speaking like the pink one. I gave myself over so completely, it’s a wonder that I didn’t get breast implants.
Over at Mattel, I wasn’t the only one kowtowing to Barbie. To make her dazzle in her photo sessions for the illustrated books, hairdressers, seamstresses and designers were employed—not to mention tiny set designers. In my position as liaison between the toy company and publisher, I gained entry to her universe, a land of closely held secrets—one started by Ruth Handler, a hard-charging Russian Jewish émigré who wasn’t so happy being a ’50s homemaker. She would have rather been president of the company she founded with her husband. (The legend is that while on a trip to Germany in 1956, Mrs. Handler found the men’s sex toy that became the prototype for her breakthrough doll.)
In my position as liaison between the toy company and publisher, I gained entry to her universe, a land of closely held secrets—one started by Ruth Handler, a hard-charging Russian Jewish émigré who wasn’t so happy being a ’50s homemaker.
What was it like to live in the famed fashionista’s head? It was fun, a great mid-life break from reality. One reason for her longevity is that as a figment of our imaginations Barbie contains multitudes. As such, we had the freedom to make up stories starring the doll as a Broadway producer, an astronaut, a ballerina, an anthropologist, gemologist, camp counselor and the kindest ice-skating coach on planet earth. We even had Babs coach a disabled girl how to ski! Of course, a Hollywood disability consultant was brought on board after the passage of the American Disabilities Act (1990).
I quickly learned that there is almost nothing that doll can’t achieve, with her cheery can-do attitude. There are never obstacles in Barbie’s dreamscape. And certainly no hard work or dues-paying. It’s almost like she was born knowing how to strum a guitar and fix the Hubble telescope. Have you ever noticed that the bejeweled one never breaks a sweat?
She even defies gravity. When a story had her travel to space, ten adults sat around a conference table for hours discussing what would happen to her hair when she space-walked to repair the telescope. A dictum had come down from the executive suite that Ms. Perfect must always be neatly coiffed. So we sent a woman to space with her bangs plastered to her forehead and her long blonde hair in a perfect flip.
It wasn’t our job to break the spell. But we could be somewhat real in our choice of themes. Throughout the years, Barbie has been a lightning rod for popular trends and social movements—remember legwarmer Barbie? Roller disco Barbie? Civil rights Barbie? In recent years, the company has even introduced gender neutral dolls. I can’t wait to see Greta Gerwig’s interpretation of 21st-century Barbie in the feature film coming this summer.
Our 90s heroine grappled with divorcing parents, stage fright, mean girls, homesickness and even chubbiness in the case of an aspiring ballerina who Barbie encourages—despite her chunky waistline. Every problem could be solved with a hug from Barbie and some kind if clichéd words. “Be a team player, lend a hand to a friend, and don’t fink on your pesky little sister,” were the anodyne messages served up at the end of each story.
But certain professions were off the table for our glamorous superstar. When a storyline was suggested with Barbie as a cookie entrepreneur like Mrs. Fields, a baking success of the ’90s, it was nixed by the suits. It turns out that there are certain careers to which our little goddess just won’t stoop. Anything that involved domestic chores like baking was forbidden. Barbie just doesn’t do schmutz.
Which brings up the eternal question of men’s role in her universe. As we all know, Ken exists merely to carry Barbie’s bags. He has been called an accessory, her boy toy, even her gay friend. In fact, the hairless, sexless wonder boy seems perfectly content for Barbie to call all the shots. It’s her world and his role is to get out of the way so she can take off on her next adventure. After all, it’s called fantasy play.
Los Angeles food writer Helene Siegel is the author of 40 cookbooks, including the “Totally Cookbook” series and “Pure Chocolate.” She runs the Pastry Session blog.
