I’ve never hidden or been ashamed by the fact that I am a girly-girl. I like pretty things, and if they happen to sparkle, I see that as a plus. I played with Barbies until I was “too old” to play with them but I’ve never stopped admiring their adaptability or iconic fashion statements. I am, and forever will be, a Barbie girl.
Most of my readers know that I run a small eBay business from my home. It gives me a chance to shop without spending money on myself, and hand select vintage pieces that I love. Numerous people have proposed consigning their items with me but it’s usually just talk. One man, last spring, enlisted my help as his personal antique furniture shopper. I was thrilled by the prospect but never heard back from him, after I submitted a contract, which listed a “finder’s fee” of 15%. He genuinely thought I would just provide my services for free.
It was with that bitter taste in my mouth, that I tentatively agreed to consign a catering co-worker’s Barbie collection. I arrived at her home this evening, armed with a contract, camera and low expectations. What happened next, left this Barbie girl tingling with excitement. She has hundreds of Barbies, all new in the box,and each one representing a different fantasy world. Greed filled my already green eyes as I coveted each one, so it’s a good thing that my bank account would have insufficient funds if I tried to purchase the lot. I squealed with delight like any 1950’s teenage girl in any 1950’s movie, at the unveiling of each one.
This Medusa Barbie alone, can fetch up to $700. Note the detail and the Swarovski crytals as snake eyes. It might be silly to you but anything that one collects can be deemed as silly. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
To me, fashion is art. Only a small percentage of us can afford couture, so if you can’t have it in full scale, I understand the desire to possess it in miniature form.
Barbie’s been given a bad rap. Many have decried her unrealistic measurements and have ousted her. She’s been stamped as a bad role model in the feminist movement. I find these accusations to be as frivolous as a “hot coffee” lawsuit. I don’t have Barbie’s measurements and never dreamed I would. I’m a normal human being whose confidence doesn’t depend on doll measurements.
Let’s take it a step further and demand that all male action figures represent an average American man’s body.
Are you picturing it yet?
I’m okay with Barbie not having sagging boobs and cellulite. Let her have her designer clothes because she’s already committed herself to a life with Ken-who isn’t equipped to shake what the Good Lord gave him…err, didn’t give him.
If a boy doesn’t want to play with an action figure that has a noodle neck, weak shoulders and a pot belly, that’s okay too.
It’s called “make-believe” for a reason. Is it possible that we’re all taking ourselves too seriously?
I’ll leave you with an image of my most favorite childhood Barbie.
Her name was Peaches ‘n Cream and she’s now worth up to $350.