I have a modest collection that currently stands at 58 lovely dolls. All but a few are removed from their boxes and on display in my study. About three years ago, by a sheer fluke, while doing a search on Ebay for “Egyptian themed jewelry,” I came across the Queen of the Nile Barbie. She was fantastic – exactly how I pictured beautiful Cleopatra. After a lengthy bidding war I managed to claim my prize. Afterwards I did some research on the Barbie website and discovered that this particular doll is a part of their “World Culture” series. I was intrigued by the variety and scope – countries from Africa to Poland were represented and each doll wore a culturally significant costume. I explored the series further to learn that they had a “Princess” collection, where each doll has unique facial features representative of each culture – and that’s what finally hooked me – I realized that Barbie produced dolls that were not simply carbon copies of each other. Dolls should be unique – just like people.

I hear that all the time. I’d say that 90% simply don’t believe me. I’ve had some that insist on visiting my house. Some want me to bring a doll into work as proof. Others want to see photos. Once I start talking about my collection it’s a bit easier for them to believe – as one of my favorite hobbies is traveling, both international and domestic. I love experiencing new cultures, odd festivals, and off the beaten path adventures. When I talk about the costumes of each doll, most people are surprised to discover that Barbie isn’t just a fashion plate children’s toy – almost as surprised as they were to discover that I’m a collector.

Without a doubt, he should have a facial piercing or a tattoo. OK, maybe not, but I know for sure he should be just as diverse as she is – as traveled, strong, kind, and independent. So…I guess that pretty much means they need to start producing my husband as their new Ken doll – sans the body jewelry and ink.

Turn on the television, open a magazine, click an internet browser and you’ll see images that demonstrate an inaccurate picture of a woman’s body. I actually agree that Barbie distorts girl’s views of themselves, but in general I find that most dolls on the market are similar in this fashion. Children will always play with dolls – it’s simply a fact. As such they’ll be confronted with a stereotypical doll shape no matter which toy they purchase. But they key is that Barbie does represent real women – women of different countries, different colors, different festivals. So maybe the dolls don’t represent different sized women - no toy is perfect. For that matter, no toy production company is perfect either.

To be perfectly honest I think most children are first fascinated with Barbie because they are given them as gifts. As such, the question is, “What about Barbie fascinates adults?” I think for any age group a doll can represent something you don’t have in your life – it could be a pony or an ability to travel to Peru. As such, if you see a Barbie with a tiny horse stable or a doll wearing a woven shawl from the Andes, you’re probably going to buy the toy. If Barbie produces a doll that’s living your dream, (or the dream of a child you know,) or produces a doll that symbolizes a memory for you, of a certain point in your life that you want to think fondly on, you’ll probably be laying down money pretty quick - this time for sentimental reasons. It’s human nature. I’m no different – these dolls remind me of places I’ve been and symbolize adventures I’ll have in the future.

It would have to be my Egyptian Queen. A first love is so very strong. I’ve had a fascination with Egyptian culture for quite some time, so of course I’d do the standard line of questioning about how hot was it really during the summer, did the silk gowns give you heat rash, did the black kohl run when you sweat. You know, the important questions. We’d probably just enjoy a quiet evening chat over a dinner of chickpeas and cool iced tea. Of course my answer would be different if the Oktoberfest Barbie came to life and brought me all the pints I could drink…