Playing with Barbies

I had a conversation with a co-worker recently about Barbies we had as children. As the conversation turned from the dolls we had (Peaches and Cream Barbie for the win!) to the various accessories we acquired (Town House! Corvette!), we began discussing how we played with our Barbies.

She was more interested in decorating their spaces -- crafting furniture from catalog photos, using images from magazines to decorate walls, cutting down carpet samples and Contact paper for flooring.

I was more interested in telling their stories.

One of the best presents I ever got was a Barbie doll house that was made by my parents and grandparents. It was wooden and had four rooms, furniture, carpet -- everything. I got it when I was about five years old, and I loved it! Several years later I got Barbie's Town House. While the Town House was cool (it did have an elevator, after all), it did not replace my homemade doll house in my heart. Eventually, the Town House collapsed into a pile of plastic and paper. Survivors included the Barbies who must have been inside at the time and the furniture.

The homemade doll house, the Town House, and several other "houses" around my room were the settings for elaborate stories. All of my Barbies had names -- most of which came from soap operas or the TV show Five Mile Creek. Because of the names I chose for the dolls, some of their backstories came from those shows as well. I couldn't very well have my doll named Eden interested in anyone other than my doll named Cruz (fans of Santa Barbara will understand).

The names only guided me in the relationships and connections of my Barbies -- Maggie and Kate were friends; Hannah was Maggie's daughter. The stories were entirely my own. School, work, parties, swimming, working with horses -- these were all options.

Sometimes the dolls went on trips, and I would stick them in the Corvette and drive from my room through the living room, kitchen, dining area and back to my room. Sometimes the dolls went to "Europe," and I would pack up the ones I was playing with at the time along with the suitcase full of Barbie clothes (yes, a whole suitcase) and head over to my grandmother's house to play. New setting, new stories.

I know some people think of Barbies as anti-feminist, but I could not disagree more. My Barbies were outspoken, hardworking and adventurous. Through my Barbies, I could express myself in ways I was only beginning to comprehend in real life. I loved my Barbies. I still do. I wish I had all of them to this day, but I've only kept a few (and the suitcase of clothes).

Homemade Barbie doll house
destroyed by Hurricane Cat.

photo by me

As for the homemade Barbie house, I had it until 2016. It survived a move to the Houston area and to Indiana, but it did not survive one of the cats jumping onto the second floor. I won't lie; I cried when I found this. It still took about a year for me to actually haul it to the curb for trash pick-up.

The furniture, however, is still with me. And the stories live on in my imagination.