(WARNING: Skip this digressive post if you hate bubblegum pink and/or prefer to steer clear of the general morass of American popular culture.)
I watch the news semi-regularly and I’ll bet that more than a few Americans have noticed that the network news anchors have started softening their evening broadcasts with lots of uplifting, aw-shucks human-interest stories.
These segments are obviously meant to serve as antidotes to the steady stream of bad news bearishness bombarding us from the global marketplace.
Perhaps these salt-of-the-earth profiles of courage and altruism are there to inspire and shame the hoi polloi into staying put in their overstuffed couches instead of taking to the streets armed with steak knives and handguns. (They could be right; many people seem to be pushing aside their woes and seeking comfort in entertainment and social connections right now.)
A few days back the well-coiffed talking head personality anchors were paying homage to that paragon of perfect, injection-molded plastic womanhood, Barbie®, who débuted early in 1959.
Amidst the retrospective coverage of this pop culture milestone, I heard about a bizarre Mattel® product launch from 1975, “Growing Up Skipper®.” This junior cousin of Barbie® was an “action” figurine; if you cranked her arm, her torso elongated and her bust “grew.”
Actual marketing copy printed on the box:
“She’s 2 dolls in 1 for twice as much fun!”
“Make her grow from a young girl to a teenager in seconds!”
“Cute little girl! ... Tall, curvy teenager!”
This “toy” should have been packaged with a miniature paperback book:
Are You There God? It’s Me, Body-Dysmorphic Skipper®
For those of you who think that toys and play time don’t have a lasting impact on children,
check out this caustically funny commentary [warning: language]. It’s a blistering account of mid-seventies childhood drama between the author and her cousin, allegedly the Growing Up Skipper
® doll’s “most fevered and devoted disciple.”
Incidentally, 1975 is the same year
The Stepford Wives hit U.S. theaters, presenting Americans with an assault on the ideal of suburban domestic perfection by swapping pretty, docile, affluent suburban housewives with near-identical animatronic body doubles.
* * *
The media blitz on the Barbie
® merchandising empire & its cultural aftershocks led me to dig up an arty artifact from the eighties.
This unnamed cult film has a running time of about three-quarters of an hour and looks like it was partly shot on Super 8. Official prints were yanked and destroyed in the wake of a copyright suit won about two decades ago. Bootleg copies still circulate; I don’t name the filmmaker, title, or subject here because I don’t want the files to get pulled. But if you have any familiarity with American popular music of the 1970s, then you can probably follow along here.
The film imaginatively dramatizes the real-life story of a woman was who the vocalist/drummer of a ubiquitous brother-and-sister pop powerhouse with lots of lush orchestral chart-topping hits throughout the early-to-mid-’70s. (Can you guess which one?)
It’s a lovingly enacted 1:9-scale tragedy of female suffering, complete with painstakingly crafted miniature props and sophisticated
mise-en-scène featuring Barbie
® line dolls outfitted in dead-ringer ’70s and early ’80s fashions.
Without further ado,
click here (Youtube) if you’re still curious. (Right after the page loads, try pausing the player in order to give the stream a chance to buffer footage a few minutes ahead.)
* * *
“The early seventies had felt like the last moment of pure, popular culture fantasy and fakeness that I shared with my parents, when we were still united in this image of happy American familyhood. And The C________s’ music seemed especially emblematic of that time.”
—
the auteur who directed and co-wrote the film linked above
What’s a little startling to me is this: as a child growing up in the Washington area in the late ’70s through mid-’80s, in many ways I lived in a late ’60s through mid-’70s time warp. This is because my decidedly Establishment parents listened to a lot of WGAY* and their LP collection consisted of selections like the orchestral folk-pop stylings of
The Sandpipers and
the soundtrack to Ryan’s Daughter.
While my spouse’s boomer parents were more plugged into the “counterculture” and familiar with the mid-to-late Beatles catalogue and even ventured into the post-punk and new wave territory of bands like Talking Heads and the Clash, as a tyke I remember being enthralled by cheesy Las-Vegas-revue-like pop arrangements such as
Steve Lawrence’s rendition of “Go Away Little Girl”.
This decade-lagging anachrony from early childhood may explain some of the chronic cultural disorientation and confusion that afflicts me to this day.
* * *
And finally we have
Sonic Youth’s cover of a song that was a signature Top Ten hit by that same ’70s pop group. (The Sonic Youth interpretation was originally released as part of a
1994 tribute album.)
The vid features Thurston Moore as Tragic Troubadour Ken™ and Kim Gordon as Rocker Chick Couture Barbie™.
* * *
So here’s wishing a belated happy birthday to that indestructible American icon, Barbie
®, and that princess of 1970s pop perfection, Karen C________ (March 2, 1950 – February 4, 1983).
* For those of you who didn’t live in the D.C. area before 1990 or so, WGAY was an adult contemporary easy-listening radio station. (Its transmitter was located on Kemp Mill Road in Wheaton before it moved to the World Building in downtown Silver Spring.)
(More trivia: According to this source, oddly enough, the “GAY” in WGAY originally stood for “Government And You” way back in the forties.)
