This month actor Reese Witherspoon has attained the peak of blonde ambition. She has been immortalised as a Barbie doll (complete with chihuahua accessory) to promote the release of her new film, Legally Blonde II. Pamela Anderson, watch and weep.
Not that we really need a new Barbie. Available in 150 countries, she is the world’s best-selling toy, racking up sales of 120 dpm (dolls per minute). Barbie is as global as Coca-Cola or McDonald’s, and the average girl gets through seven dolls before her 11th birthday.
Perhaps it is precisely because of this whiff of imperialism that a backlash against the all-pervasive Barbie culture is now afoot. I first came across it when I saw the words ”We are a Barbie-free household” printed on an invitation to a little girl’s birthday party. That’s ”Barbie-Free” as in fat-free, alcohol-free and gluten-free. No dairy, no smoking, no fun.
As you might guess, the Ban Barbie Brigade (BBB) is a group of predominantly middle-class refuseniks, but they split into several tendencies. One faction objects to Barbie on the grounds that she is a dangerous role model. Action Man and Power Rangers are also banned under their ”bad influence” laws.
Perhaps if Mattel made an ”Anti-globalisation Barbie” modelled on Naomi Klein or a ”Feminist Barbie” on Naomi Wolf, that would be more acceptable.
The second faction of the BBB objects not because of ideology, but on grounds of taste. I suppose they’ve got a point: Barbie is just a teensy bit common — there’s a distinct hint of trailer park about her. And then there’s the wardrobe: the nauseating pink nylon blouses, tastelessly logoed handbags and chintzy accessories. Girls under the influence inevitably develop their own passion for pink plastic jewellery and tiaras.
All this makes posh mummies and daddies wince, because they’d really like to see their little girls look as though they’re modelling for an upmarket clothing catalogue rather than auditioning for a particularly low-rent, pre-teen talent contest.
Which is a terrible mistake, because childhood is all about bad taste, terrible TV and nasty, fluffy acrylic toys. The point is, we grow out of it. To impose a cool minimalism, neutral shades and tasteful playthings on the under-fives is a type of middle-class child abuse: it’s pure deprivation. But what I hate most about the BBB is its underlying self-righteousness, as though banning Barbie gives them some badge of moral superiority. That they are better, more caring parents than the rest of us. Must they be so smug?
The Barbie-Free party was a riot. We ate chunky retro sandwiches and wholemeal pizza, with raw carrots and healthy dips for the hardcore health nuts. The cake was homemade, naturally, and devoid of the usual mood-altering e-numbers; the party bags contained no chocolate, sweeties or, indeed, excitement of any kind.
Even the entertainment was wholesome. After a few rounds of non-competitive singing, the floor was cleared for the main event. This was a finger-puppet show written, produced and performed by the ”Barbie-Free” mummy and daddy themselves, all about a princess.
I have to admit (grudgingly) that production values were exceptionally high for a pre-school gig. The puppets and miniature theatre had been lovingly handcrafted (yes!) by the proud parents, who changed into matching costumes for the performance. Frankly, I felt more than a tad inadequate in the face of such overachievement. True, there’s nothing very handcrafted about Barbie, but let’s give her a break.
As a vulnerable child in the Seventies, I lived in a house full of Barbies and Sindys, and I feel undamaged as an adult. I’ve got a university degree, a professional career, and have so far resisted the lure of breast implants. I admit I was a peroxide abuser in my youth, but that’s behind me now and, one day at a time, I manage to maintain my natural hair colour.
And she’s really not such a bad role model: a nice girl from a nice family who, in the best traditions of beauty queens, just lurves children and animals. OK, she’s a bit of a pricktease to keep poor Ken hanging on for 44 years, but at least she doesn’t sleep around. What’s more, she’s had nearly 50 careers, including astronaut, surgeon and presidential candidate, proving to little girls everywhere that it’s possible to have big tits and do a worthwhile job all at the same time. What’s so wrong with that? —