In my media and pop culture class we read an essay by Stephen Kline on how marketing is directed toward children. Basically, kidlets watch their favorite cartoons and then are bombarded by commercials for TOYS TOYS TOYS!!! Dolls, action figures, stuffed animals, TOYS IN RAINBOWS OF COLORS, WITH PLASTIC AND GLITTER AND HAPPINESS! The essay goes on to describe how this marketing is ingenious, because kids influence the spending of adults. Once adults buy these toys for their children, it begins a never-ending cycle. For example, you can't properly "play" with Barbie unless you buy every single accessory available for her, from zoo doctor Barbie to the Barbie dream-house complete with her camper and hot tub. Kline says these toys also restrict imagination, which is what sparked my interest. Instead of being able to imagine Barbie as any sort of doctor you want, you have to buy different sets of Barbie being different doctors. Apparently, there is a difference between a "kitty kat doctor Barbie" and "veterinarian Barbie". Movies like Toy Story apparently persuade children to act out the movie with their Woody Doll and Buzz Lightyear instead of making up their own stories for their dolls.
This essay made me consider my own childhood toys. And I can honestly say that none of this applied to me. Sure, I saw cool stuff on TV that I wanted, but my parents intelligently told me NO a majority of the time, and I'm better off for it. I never let toys or commercials or movies tell me how to play with my toys, however. My imagination was never restricted. In fact, my only pride and joy in this world happens to be my outlandish imagination, along with my ability to draw every single pokemon from memory and how I can take shots without chasers. This is a brief(ish) history of my toys and how I played with them (and why I was probably immune to the marketing craze that is limiting imagination in children today according to Kline).
When I was little, my parents really wanted me to play with what would they would deem as "gender neutral toys" when in reality they would be considered "male focused toys" like trucks and Fisher Price tools. I would have none of it, however, and only wanted to play with Barbie. They finally sighed and relented, buying me my very first Barbie, a Dr. Barbie that came with a white lab coat, a blue dress, and a tiny stethoscope. I loved that tiny stethoscope. The first thing I've realized as an adult: it was not Barbie that I loved. It was the many accessories I loved. Especially that tiny stethoscope. When you pressed it against something, a tiny button would make the thumping sound of a heartbeat.
Very tell-tale heart. But I loved it. I spent more time listening to that stethoscope than actually playing with Barbie. Due to my love of miniatures and tiny accessories, my parents purchased me little furniture sets for her, like a kitchen that came with a pink fridge filled with tiny food and a veterinarian office set-up. When I played with Barbie, it was not Barbie I played with. It was her stuff. I usually created elaborate set-ups where my animal figurines lived together and utilized all of the miniatures that Barbie normally would, like the tiny stethoscope and apples from the fridge. Barbie lay forgotten on the floor by her fridge. I would spend hours on the floor of my room, playing out scenarios where the animals ran rampant through the house, which was usually abandoned or the owner had died a grisly death (I was a child who basically thought she wasn't human). Imagination was not limited in any way. Unless you count the fact that I did not imagine Barbie into any scenario. Just my tiny stethoscope and dalmatian puppies.
My favorite Barbies were the Disney Princess ones my mom got me. I had the Little Mermaid, which I remember because she a crinkly, shimmery green mermaid tail that slid off and suddenly, SHE HAD LEGS! This is the only picture I could find on the internet of it, weirdly off-color and blurry.
Next up, I had a Pocahontas doll that came with some weird device that looked like Meeko and twisted her hair. The only reason I liked it was because it came with these pretty pink and turquoise leaves with glittery ribbons that could be clipped in her hair...or my hair.
See the weird Meeko? My next Disney Barbie was Esmerelda, who came in her red and purple dress she wears during the Festival of Fools. If you pressed a button on her tambourine, then it played a short quip of some song I still can remember to this day. I loved her the most because she was the BEST.
My childhood best friend who lived across the street from me owned like, every Barbie ever. She had two twenty gallon tubs absolutely FULL of Barbies, Barbie accessories, and clothes, and she not only had the Barbie dream-house, but ALSO an extra cute bungalow, a couple of Barbie horses, a stable for such horses, a VW van, and a jeep. My obsessive compulsiveness for organizing my Barbie's houses and things went overboard, and I would literally spend HOURS setting up furniture in the bungalow (friend always got the dream-house, which I would look at disgustedly because she would simply toss a bed into the bedroom and not even bother changing her Barbie's clothes day to day). Eventually, we would have to stop playing Barbie because my penchant for creating elaborate epics in my head and my need to set up all of my pets and accessories in my house would take too long for my friend to handle and we would end up playing dogs anyways.
After Barbie came Polly Pockets. Naturally, considering my love for miniatures, it would come to Polly Pockets. In fact, my aunt bribed me down the aisle at her wedding by offering me a Polly Pocket at the end of it (I was the flower girl and kept bawling during the practice wedding...is that what you call it? Practice wedding? Meh).
I had TONS OF Polly Pockets, a mini-mall, many different houses, a swimming pool, some weird special bathroom...AMAZING.
WHAT? These google image search of 90s toys is really bringing back memories. I remember how much I loved those fake bubbles.
I also had this kitchen set that had tiny little pink mounds in the over that I was OBSESSED with. I'm not lying when I say my life basically revolves around tiny, weird details and miniatures of everything. Polly Pockets were my LIFE. Once again, something where I was completely not following any sort of story "created for me" by a marketing corporation, I was making up my own weird stories and mostly just obsessing over the tininess aspect. So good.
Speaking of miniatures, I also owned my very own Star Wars set of micro machines. Not just any Star Wars set. The JABBA'S PALACE Star Wars set. My mom used to get us toys and goodies for long car trips, and one time she got me my beloved Jabba's Palace. Another little quirk about me: my favorite movies were 101 Dalmatians and Return of the Jedi. But only the Jabba part. Once the Ewoks hit, I was out of there. Thus, my mom got me my micro machine. Once again, I was disregarding the story the movie portrayed and instead delighting myself in mixing the worlds of Star Wars and Polly Pockets. Many Polly Pockets were dropped into the Rancor Pit.
Next up, THE LION KING! For some reason, I had ALL the toys for Lion King. I had the Elephant Graveyard, all three hyenas, Simba, young and old, Nala, Mufasa, Scar, Zazu, Pride Rock WITH a little button shaped like a rock that you could pump and make a small pond bubble if it were full of water, and a random elephant figurine that I don't think had to do with The Lion King at all. In this case, I did play Lion King much the same as the movie. However, it was also interspersed with the hyenas becoming a pack of wolves and Zazu being king of Pride Rock.
This is actually a pretty true rendition of what I had. I forgot to add Timon and Pumba and Rafiki. I distinctly remember playing with my Pride Rock on the table when my parents had one of their EARTHQUAKE DRILLS, so I dove under the table and crouched beneath it for forty five minutes.
My next batch of favorite toys from the time I was eight to age twelve were BEANIE BABIES! God I loved Beanie Babies. The previously mentioned childhood best friend and I would play Beanie Babies at my house for HOURS. We had an entire story for them that I personally believe was genius. I'll write about it another day, because it warrants its own post.
My favorite was GiGi. I was always GiGi.
The last thing I played with was my tub of stuff. It was literally just a plastic tub filled to the brim with random plastic figurines, McDonalds play toys, and PlayMobiles. I would spend HOURS making up stories in my head with my bin 'o stuff. I had oodles of Disney princess figurines (Disney was a major component of my childhood), tons of little animals from farm, pet, and zoo sets, dinosaurs, and PLAYMOBILE (as mentioned before).
I had this set. Yeah that's right. That wicker laundry basket was mine.
So I realize that Kline's essay probably addresses the next generation of children, the kids growing up now in the new millennium. I was but a 90s child who chose to pretend that she was a dog majority of the time and the remainder was spent making up fantastical scenarios with my toys.
(aw man, I didn't have access to a scanner so I just took crappy Iphone photos of all the comics in this post, which is why they are so poorly lit and sort of...ugly looking)
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