This is a wonderful photo. A metaphor for declining standards in the world, a potent symbol. And nothing is more potent than 2 Barbie dolls. Ok, one Barbie and one Sindy, if you’re that pedantic and anal about such things.

The Sindy on the right is Mel’s poor, wretched, doll, whose hair was cut off in a Les Mis moment about 50 years ago. The Barbie on the left is only about 25 years old, from Lila’s mummy’s days when such things were important. But Barbies don’t age; you get that, right? They’re like, ‘born’ at some undefined point of girl/woman-hood, somewhere between teen (the skateboard years) and the young woman (meets Ken, the rest, history). And they ‘die’ at precisely the same age, not a day older, nor younger, not a wrinkle, no grey hair (unless Joey’s been at the paints), no cellulite. Just a bit of faded plastic or, more normally, decapitated. Because the necks are always the weak point. Though little Joey has in fact totally redefined the meaning of anything’s ‘weak point’.

But Sindy (could have been a vintage Barbie, they were always the same) was a little girl. Dressed (yes, its original) as a nurse. No make up. No bust. Just a little girl doll full of sweetness and innocence and little girliness. Goes to church on Sundays. Eats ice cream. Without checking the calories.

 The Barbie is, basically, a slut.

In the 25 intervening years someone at Mattel had decided that little girls no longer wanted to play with facsimiles of themselves. They wanted to play with something more aspirational. Possibly with the teen/adult that they might become. And the presumption was that every pre-teeny gel wants to live in Geordie Shore. Or Jersey Shore. Made in Chelsea. Or (fucking) Esss-ixx. So they gave them curves. Not the full J-Lo, but curves. And replaced the nurses costume and the cheerleader and the ballet gear with pencil skirts, tight bodices, tight pants and thongs. Ok, not thongs, Barbies don’t have underwear, they are in permanent ‘commando’. And they come with a face full of make-up, fake tan and best of all, feet that can’t stand on the ground. Why? Because they’re angled at 45 degrees, permanently. So they can wear ‘6-inch’ heels. All the time.

But the Barbie, as mentioned, was from the 90s. If you extrapolate (that’s a statistical term, not a deviant one, unless that’s a standard deviation, one from the norm) to a Barbie one might buy today, she would come with a 36-inch (scale) chest, with boob-job scars, child-bearing hips and an assortment of dildos. Because she’s probably ’empowered’ and ‘doesn’t need Ken’, or any man. She should have gender issues. Possibly bisexual. Possibly pre-trans. So she comes with a suit and tie as well. And a football. Which she can’t kick unless they do something about the angle of her feet.

This is an extract from my new book, The Sexualisation of Toys and why didn’t it fucking happen 60 years ago!!!!!, published by Sheister, Shuster and Shweinhundt, 2021.

Happy Friday
A xxxx