New Barbie is quite something. I had no idea how dramatically the fashion doll had changed until I sought one out at our local Target. Due to her upswing in popularity, pickings were slim. There was only one Barbie in the bunch who wasn't a mermaid, wasn't sporting rainbow Fantasy Hair and wasn't a pop star. The search for a no-nonsense Barbie was exhausting; so was trying to emancipate the doll from the hermetically sealed packaging. (It nearly cost me a finger.) In the end, New Barbie was an agreeable sort, stepping out of her denim shorts into yards of plastic wrap before being plunged into a bowl of vanilla ice cream swirled with rhubarb and raspberries. The doll stood perfectly still while I covered her in meringue rosettes, placed a candied rhubarb bow in her hair and snapped a photo.
It's been a while since I've handled a Barbie doll. I've forgotten how tiny everything is; the snaps on her clothing, the plastic shoes that mold to her feet, the rubber bands that secure her ponytail in place. Somewhere, buried in a box that moved from NY to NJ to Philly and back again to NJ, are remnants of my Barbie collection, including knitwear and crocheted garments handmade by my grandmother. As of this writing, I was only able to unearth one stray box of odds and ends from my Barbie past. Amongst the corduroy jumper and pink sparkle sweater were a few "antiques." The cardboard television/stereo console, bookcase, lamp and blue ottoman from Barbie's original 1960s dream house were still standing. According to a recent NY Times article, apparently Barbie owned the dream house single-handedly. Good for you, Barbie.
It seemed only fitting that New Barbie should make herself comfortable in some vintage Barbie clothes, amidst some antique Barbie furniture. Should any future needs arise requiring Barbie to pop into a meringue filled pie plate, I'll know just where to find her.
Professional Pie-isms & Seasonal Sarcasm