Engendered
Among other things, Christmas means one of my rare visits to the toy store, or at least, one of my rare visits to the toy store to buy something for a person who isn't me.
For the little boys on my list (a trio of nephews) it's all easy. The eldest likes medieval action figures, so he's getting one of them. The middle one likes both Lego and Star Wars, so he's getting a blocky little AT-ST driven by a bite-sized stormtrooper. The youngest is only two, and hasn't expressed any particular preferences, so he's getting trucks. There is no such thing as a two year old boy who doesn't like trucks.
My sole niece is somewhat more problematic, since it means that I have to venture into a place in the toy store where no man ventures of his own free will: the Barbie aisle.
Once a man gets over the initial onslaught of concentrated girl germs, the Barbie aisle is a puzzling place. Barbie seems to spend a lot of her time being either a princess or a fairy, or both. Occasionally she will condescend to be a model, a rock star or some kind of unspecified trust fund kid who just hangs out in nice clothes, but mostly she's a princess or a fairy. She also seems to command a small army of other princesses and fairies, who no doubt rampage across he countryside teaching the value of sharing, helping cloyingly anthropomorphised animals, and changing outfits every twenty paces.
Since she's into both horses and Barbies, my niece will be getting Brietta, the Barbie pegasus. It's mauve. It has bigger false eyelashes than Edie Sedgwick. It appears to be wearing blue eyeshadow, and has sparkly plastic baubles braided into its mane. It is what you would get if you ground up the front row at a Kylie Minogue concert and poured the resultant goo into horse-shaped moulds...
Oops, I should be more careful. I may have just accidentally stumbled onto one of Mattel's production secrets.
For the little boys on my list (a trio of nephews) it's all easy. The eldest likes medieval action figures, so he's getting one of them. The middle one likes both Lego and Star Wars, so he's getting a blocky little AT-ST driven by a bite-sized stormtrooper. The youngest is only two, and hasn't expressed any particular preferences, so he's getting trucks. There is no such thing as a two year old boy who doesn't like trucks.
My sole niece is somewhat more problematic, since it means that I have to venture into a place in the toy store where no man ventures of his own free will: the Barbie aisle.
Once a man gets over the initial onslaught of concentrated girl germs, the Barbie aisle is a puzzling place. Barbie seems to spend a lot of her time being either a princess or a fairy, or both. Occasionally she will condescend to be a model, a rock star or some kind of unspecified trust fund kid who just hangs out in nice clothes, but mostly she's a princess or a fairy. She also seems to command a small army of other princesses and fairies, who no doubt rampage across he countryside teaching the value of sharing, helping cloyingly anthropomorphised animals, and changing outfits every twenty paces.
Since she's into both horses and Barbies, my niece will be getting Brietta, the Barbie pegasus. It's mauve. It has bigger false eyelashes than Edie Sedgwick. It appears to be wearing blue eyeshadow, and has sparkly plastic baubles braided into its mane. It is what you would get if you ground up the front row at a Kylie Minogue concert and poured the resultant goo into horse-shaped moulds...
Oops, I should be more careful. I may have just accidentally stumbled onto one of Mattel's production secrets.
posted by Blandwagon at 5:56 PM
2 Comments:
Blandwagon, I used to be quite "meh" about Barbie, but, believe me, compared to those hideous skanks also known as Bratz dolls, she is Mother Theresa, Einstein and Scarlett Johanssen rolled into one. Even the Bratz ponies look trampy!
Trust me, I would sooner give my niece a used syringe I found behind the convenience store than a Bratz doll (or 'Satan's Handmaidens', as I like to call them.)
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