Come On Barbie, Let’s Go Party
This weekend I’m taking a road trip to Rama, Ontario for a concert. Two of us are cruising out of the city to see an act I never thought would tour again: Aqua.
Yes, that Aqua.
Aqua was a childhood favourite. I remember making up dances to “My Oh My” in my best friend’s living room and fighting over who had to lip sync to the boy parts.
“Barbie Girl” was an instant favourite because of its sexual undertones. I listened to it over and over trying to decipher what exactly the song was about. Now, as an adult with a complete grasp on hanky panky, I love it even more - not because it’s particularly good, but because it’s nostalgic.
Alas, the rest of the world seems to disagree. Their early 2000s fame has run out, and the group is coming overseas to play at a Casino. The other stops are even more dismal. The North American leg of their tour consists of Saskatoon, London (Ontario), and Thunder Bay.
Despite the upswing of Y2K content, a resurgence of McBling fashion, and the surplus of Barbie Movie news, Aqua has been left behind. In fact, it’s been widely shared that we won’t be hearing “Barbie Girl” in the film, much to the chagrin of fans.
To be fair, the song wasn’t exactly Mattel’s idea of fun. A multi-year legal battle about “Barbie Girl” has apparently left some sour grapes. In 2003 The Supreme Court declined Mattel’s trademark case claiming that the song tarnished Barbie’s image. The Court also threw out Aqua’s assertion that Mattel’s legal filings were defamation.
Judge Alex Kozinski added to his ruling that “The parties are advised to chill.”
Years later, it seems that no one has cooled off.
When someone tries to explain the Webb telescope photos
Life In Plastic
Aqua’s legacy might be fading away, but Barbie’s image has never been perfect.
Barbie’s looks have long been a point of contention. Her beauty standards are that of legend, and studies say playing with ultra-thin dolls messes with our understanding of attractiveness. Moreover, that damage isn't undone by playing with more realistic dolls.
The tiniest example tends to stick.
To their credit, Mattel has made an effort to create more inclusive dolls. Petite, tall, and curvy Barbies have all joined the brand. Kids, however, don’t want curvy Barbies. When asked which doll in the lineup “doesn’t have friends” or is the ugliest, children consistently chose the “fat” Barbie.
In real life, “fat” Barbie would still only be a size 6. That makes sense when we remember a 1960s Barbie diet book that held this sage advice for women: “Don’t eat.”
My relationship with Barbie, like many women’s, is complex. I desperately wanted to be a Barbie girl and coveted their beauty. In kindergarten, other girls sported Barbie perfumes that I thought were the pinnacle of elegance.
My mom disagreed. She secretly wrote in my birthday party invitations that Barbies were prohibited.
I cried when I found out. I was on the outside of the Dream House looking in.
Fortunately, unimaginative families ignored my mom’s warnings and bought me Barbies anyway. What else do you get an elementary school girl? My mom was forced to cave.
Despite the victory, my interest was short-lived. In large part because playing with dolls included my mother’s feminist commentary about not needing to rely on Ken and working toward degrees instead of baking cookies. What a buzzkill.
I stopped wanting to play and left my Barbie bin hidden under my bed. For a while, I slept above a plastic tub of plastic tits.
My detachment soon turned to experimentation. The last time I played with a doll, I orchestrated a hair dye using my mom’s blush and lipstick. The red locks I was hoping for came out as a clumpy brownish tinge. Whenever I looked at that monstrosity Barbie, I felt a strange shame for taking away her beauty. It was a rare moment in childhood where I recognized that my idea hadn’t been a better one.
I messed with the perfection Mattel had already achieved
When I first got my Barbies, I thought I was on the fast track to beauty. My dolls would show me how to be hot, popular, and successful. Instead, I learned that I would never measure up. I saw myself as a stalky, annoying Kelly in a world of elegant Barbies.
Like many others who didn’t fit the Mattel mould, I leaned into Barbie counter-culture. I loved Aqua because they exercised a healthy dose of sarcasm. I loved that they poked fun at what Barbie held dear. I became a fan of Avril, P!nk, and Xtina. I decided dolls were stupid and took to spouting my mom’s feminist ideas at my elementary school peers.
Have you ever really watched “The Little Mermaid”. What a horrible story for girls.
Deep down though, I still wanted to fit in.
I’ve Been Around the World
As I grew up, I found my way back to girly loves. I gained more confidence and admitted that glitter is fun. I stopped trying to qualify my interest as “ironic.”
The Y2K nostalgia has been a treat. Things I pretended to despise as a kid - Hilary Duff, butterfly clips, polly pockets - have come back to my life like a chance at redemption. This year I’ve been to an Aly & AJ concert, performed to a Pussycat Dolls song, and cried over Britney Spears’ wedding. I own platform sandals, tube tops, and a butterfly bellybutton ring.
Oh I’m having so much fun!
At the same time, I feel more on the outside of pop culture than ever. Alongside the 2000s resurgence is a growing list of shifting references that I don’t understand. Can someone please explain to me what’s funny about the #gentleminions?
My Side Piece is, without question, a millennial blog. Gen Z continually participates in trends that allude my newsfeed. Many of them know Barbie, but Aqua is a whole other kind of nostalgia. A lesser-known, lesser-cared about sentimentality.
We know because they’re playing in a casino, not on TikTok.
Aqua singing “Back to the 80s” hits different now that we’re revisiting my childhood era. This time I’ve been around the world, and I’m starting to feel it.
The nostalgia is exciting, and a reminder that youth is fleeting. I found my first grey hair the other day (no I’m not okay), and am slowly recognizing that I, too am subject to ageing.
If Aqua is still performing at age 48 and 54 respectively, then there’s hope for me too. I can stay in the 2000s for at least another decade.
Testing new extensions.
Cartoon Heroes
Loving Aqua might date me, but Barbie is eternal.
For all the negatives, playing with dolls is also proven to increase empathy and understanding of emotions. Many children weren’t able to socialize throughout the pandemic, making these benefits increasingly valuable.
Barbie has always had progressive moments. Just this week Mattel launched a Jane Goodall doll (Jane GoodDoll?) as part of their Inspiring Women Series. The current CEO has said that, at the onset,
“Barbie was the empowered Malibu woman who was independent—she had her own house, her own car, and her own visions of herself. That was a pretty disruptive idea back in the ’50s.”
Since 1959 she’s had countless jobs, looks, and hobbies. From astronaut to veterinarian to paleontologist to beauty queen, Barbie has tried it all.
Her versatility has kept her in the zeitgeist for decades. Barbie is designed to be a blank canvas that propels forward imagination and criticism. She’s everything we love, everything we hate, and everything in between.
Barbie is a plastic mirror.
In her, we see what we’re looking for. In the 50s, it was independence. In the 2000s, it was thinness. Today, I hope it’s achievement. Playing with Barbie allows us to envision something different for ourselves. Whether it’s a life in STEM, a loving family, or simply pretty hair.
In many ways, Barbie stayed true to her (very blonde) roots. She runs in the same circle as the new age bimbo: intelligent without needing to prove it, forcefully feminine, and leaning into an aesthetic not everyone can achieve.
One day, I’ll have a daughter who wants dolls of her own. I won’t say no, but I will be borrowing a version of my mother’s monologue:
Come on Barbie! Let’s go become self-sufficient women!
Let’s go to therapy!
Let’s go define our own ideas of beauty!
