Painting the Patriarchy Pink: This Barbie is a Blogger

Tee: Kohl's

I finally saw Barbie yesterday, and it was every bit as fabulous as I expected.  The clothes, the colors, the dance routines.  But also, the message.  Because if there's one thing that director Greta Gerwig makes clear, it's that being a woman is complicated.  To paraphrase America Ferrera's Gloria, all we really want at the end of the day is to "wear a flattering top and feel okay."  Yet sometimes the world -- and more to the point, the patriarchy -- makes that more difficult than it should be.  So it's no wonder that Barbie -- both the "stereotypical" one played to perfection by Margot Robbie and all the others who share the same name -- would rather stay in Barbie Land where women are always in power and cellulite is a myth, than venture out into the real world only to be arrested for rollerblading.

It's no surprise that it's Weird Barbie (Kate McKinnon) who convinces Stereotypical Barbie to hang with the humans.  After all, it doesn't get much more real than having a toddler yank your hair out by the roots and tattoo your face with Jem-style graffiti.  McKinnon kooks it up brilliantly, pouring every ounce of SNL alien abductee energy into channeling the discarded doll.  As for her aesthetic, it's excellently edgy, a kind of warped candy cute.  Her outfit and house are my favorite. 

But this isn't about Weird Barbie.  It's about Stereotypical Barbie.  And what she learns is what we all learn at some point -- that things aren't always perfect.   Also, that sometimes it's better to have an Allan (Michael Cera) than a Ken (Ryan Gosling).  Finally, not to trust men in charge. (I'm looking at you, shades-of-Mugatu Mattel CEO Will Ferrell.)  Yet however imperfect, it's still okay.  Because being human is a beautiful mess, and the only way to clean it up is to muss your hair and snag your stockings.  Authenticity is better than plastic.  

And that, Barbie girls, is nothing to toy with.

String Cheese, Please: Guitar Hero Hits

Fabulous Felt Pink Guitar Barrette 

Fabulous Felt Purple Guitar Barrette 

Fabulous Felt Red Guitar Barrette

Top: Merona, Target

Dress: Macy's

Shoes: Chinese Laundry, DSW

Bag: Betsey Johnson, Macy's

Belt: Marshalls

Jacket: BCBG, Macy's

Sunglasses: Kohl's

The other day I was unknowingly listening to a lite rock radio station.  I say unknowingly because I'd landed on the station at random, sucked in by Fleetwood Mac, Elle King, and Walk the Moon, all artists who I wouldn't expect to be reduced to elevator music cliches in the time it takes to play a jingle.  There's something shameful about the very words "lite rock."  Like it's imitation, less than, and wimpy, fat free fro yo instead of a chocolate milkshake.  I mean, you wouldn't hear Hendrix on a station that sets people up on blind dates or gives away tee shirts.  Or Green Day.  Or Weezer.  Or The Offspring.  So that, I guess, is the litmus test for artistic integrity: Hendrix or punks from the 1990s.  And also, perhaps, The Killers.  On (alternative rock) radio, I recently heard that Brandon and the boys, who hail from Las Vegas, couldn't perform in the casinos when they were underage and getting started, so they played outside in the desert.  The DJ was all excited about it, saying, "tell your children and children's children," but I don't have children, so I'm telling you.  If bloggers are diarists of cyberspace, then DJs are bloggers of the airwaves, sharing their thoughts and anecdotes and emotions and putting their stamp on all things pop culture for the sake of the weary masses trudging to work.

So, as a shout-out to DJs and rock, lite and hard and every beat in between, I give you this bonus track of a one-hit wonder post rife with guitar riffs.  (If you close your eyes, are real quiet, and meditate on the pretty pictures, then I swear you can hear them.)  The playlist includes three renditions of the guitar, this perhaps most visually pleasing of musical instruments, the colors converging in perfect harmony upon the canvas of one boldly striped dress.

On that, ahem, note, I've also got a flashback to Tuesday's post -- more Flash Charms, sing-a-long style!  Because good things come in flashes: flash sales, flash mobs, flashes of genius, and, if Sheldon Cooper has anything to say about it, The Flash.  (Admittedly, some bad things come in flashes, too, such as hot flashes, flash floods, and flashers.  But their kind isn't welcome here.)  This necklace has got more than a medley of fan favorites, including a record, headphones, a microphone, a record player, a guitar, and even a harmonica.  It's a little bit country, a little bit rock and roll -- and a whole lot of loud.

Speaking of which, let's get loud by waxing poetic about the powers of FM (also, of freeway fries) in this not-quite haiku:

Drive-thru dinner, scarf it down.

Blast those jams all over town.

Lip-sync, twitter, warble, strum

Belt out, carol, intone hum.

Uncork spirit, fancy free.

That's what music means to me.

Hmm; with lines like these, it's no wonder that video killed the radio star.  So now for some sound bites from others, one sticky, one sweet, neither involving Def Leppard lyrics:

Sticky:

Mindy Kaling: "No ones wants to hear new music, ever."  (Snarky but true, as evidenced by my greatest hits collection.)

Sweet:

Sheryl Crow: "It it makes you happy, then it can't be that bad."  (As apt a theme song for humankind as any.  Feel free to apply it to those fries.)

It's times like this that I wish I had a keytar, Jem and the Holograms style, or at least one of those inflatable guitars you get at the circus.  You know, to lend some levity.  That, or a live action feed of The Wiggles. 

If Rappers were Royals . . .

Fabulous Felt Queen of the Castle Necklace

Tank: Mossimo, Target

Skirt: Necessary Objects, Annie Sez

Crinoline: Party City

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: JCPenney

Belt: Wet Seal

Sunglasses: JCPenney

Headband: Gifted

. . . then they'd wear a necklace like this one.  'Cause it's huge.  Not to mention luxe in a kindergarten teacher-meets-Lisa Frank kind of way.  I think I'm going to wear mine (because as almost always, I have a double) with a black dress and black leggings and some sherbety legwarmers.  Just as soon as I find some sherbety legwarmers.      

Why is it that the word "castle" makes us think of rainbows and stardust and pink colliding in a cartoon kaleidoscope of marshmallow madness?  (And by "us" I really mean "me" and of course the good folks at Disney).  As history (and HBO - thank you, "Game of Thrones" ) tells us, palaces are more often the provinces of dungeons and dragons than of princesses and unicorns.  (Er, make that "stories" instead of histor(ies), as some people would argue that dragons aren't real, but you know what I mean.)  No, in the time of the turrets (enchanted or otherwise), dark, dank dwellings were the law of the land and personal hygiene left much to be desired (just think of the stench of all those unwashed gowns and cloaks).  Which is to say that it was all a little more depressing than some storybooks would have us believe.  Then again, this is just par for the course (watch out for that moat!), given that most lovely things are the stuff of smoke and mirrors.  And Disney.      

They didn't call it the Dark Ages for nothing.     

This is just one of the reasons why my era of choice remains the most excellent 1980s, a time when princesses popped instead of perished.  I just purchased a (and I would be remiss in not saying this) truly outrageous bangle from Etsy's Licorice Jewelry. That's right, it features none other than Jem, that alter-ego accessing, pink-and-blonde coiffed pop diva darling.  Back in the 1980s, there wasn't a girl between the ages of five and eight (nine? ten? How old are kids when they stop playing with dolls?) who didn't want to up and run off with the Holograms, at least until gym class was over.  I, of course, had a Jem doll, as well as Roxy from the evil Misfits.  I purchased Roxy under duress, my preschool graduation money burning a hole in my pocket as I trolled the aisles of Jamesway in search of Kimber, Shana, or even Stormer.  You know how in every mean girl group, there's always that one girl who really isn't so mean?  In the Misfits, that girl was Stormer, the blue-haired sometimes helper of the Holograms.  But some other kindergarten-bound brat must have snatched up the last one, because only Roxy remained.  Probably because she didn't have an ounce of nice in her, her white hair, purple and yellow-rimmed eye, and print metallic pants proclaiming her badass ways.  To be honest, she scared me a little.  

I think she'd be able to hold her own on "Thrones."       

Hello, Dolly: Dressing for the Decades

In my world, paper dolls are having a moment.  First there were those holiday horses, and now I have a troop of twentieth (and some twenty-first!) century trendsetters, which I also received as a gift (hey, even I don't buy myself paper dolls).  I have another paper doll book somewhere (it may be international-themed), about which I'll happily blog should it ever surface.  But for now it's all about the styles of the times and -- ahem -- the timeless styles.

Flipping through the glossy pages of Sticker Fashionista Vintage Style, I was hard-pressed to pick my favorite fashion era.  Was I most drawn to the prim and pretty parasols of the early 1900s, or was the structured, starlet-inspired glamour of the 1940s more of my thing?  Then there were the mod and boho silhouettes of the 1960s and the outrageous rock opera opulence of the 1980s.  At first, I was tempted to say, the farther back the better; give me a time when women were women and there was no such thing as too much lace.  Yet as much as I loved the idea of an epoch in which wearing a dress was an everyday occurrence, I couldn't deny that turn-of-the-century style was a little constricting (and I don't just mean the corsets).  Back then, women didn't have a whole lot of wiggle room in terms of colors, patterns, embellishments, and accessories - not to mention footwear (we've all seen pictures of those horrid buckled booties).  And let's not forget that to be too showy was to risk being regarded as (at best) racy and (at worst) as a lady of the night.  This sort of straight and narrow sartorial approach seemed to rule the runways (and walkways) until the 1960s, that shining beacon of anything goes.  That was when things really took off with tie-dye and feathers and psychedelic patterns, go-go and flower child aesthetics running amok in different directions.  Still, my clotheshorse heart belongs to the 1980s, an inevitability I blame on Jem and Madonna and Prince.  The ruffly, one-shouldered, white-and-black polka dot dress pictured above gets my vote for top frock, even if I did dilute its power by teaming it with that Lady Gaga-inspired cherry headband filched from the 2000s section.

Speaking of which, a very cool part of Vintage Style is its last couple of pages, in which you're invited to create the looks of today by mixing and matching pieces from the 100+ years worth on offer in the preceding pages.  I didn't photograph my efforts because they weren't all that great, an outcome that I wholeheartedly attribute to the slim pickings that remained by the time I got to the end of the book (that's my story, and I'm sticking to it).  But the premise got me thinking about how weird it is that you can't pin down the trends of the times when you're actually in them.  When I was a preteen watching everyone run around in sunflower-print slip dresses, denim vests, flannel shirts, and overalls, I didn't think, they're part of a minimalist neo-hippie fashion movement that resulted in response to the excess of the 1980s.  I just thought, those are the cool kids, and that's what they wear.  (I, on the other hand, was still rocking stretch pants and oversized sweaters like the ones favored by the mom on "The Goldbergs," as well as some pretty rad large-and-in-charge hair accessories from Claire's Boutique.  I still think about my old resin strawberry-shaped clip, which was so big that it sometimes fell off my head.  I wish I still had it, in no small part because I have a lot more hair now.)

I wonder which of today's wardrobe staples will have made their mark by the time we're looking at them through the lens of the future.  More importantly, I wonder what we'll be wearing while we're laughing at them. 

Toys of the 1980s

Sweet Lolita Hello Kitty in La La Land Candy Charm Necklace, Sweet Love 4 U

Rad 80s Style Jem Rockstar Holograms Colorful Necklace, Miss Mercy

Cheer Bear Huge Vintage Doll Statement Necklace, Miss Mercy

Rainbow Brite Star Sprinkles Huge Vintage Doll Statement Necklace, Miss Mercy

Strawberry Shortcake Huge Vintage Statement Necklace, Miss Mercy

My Little Pony Vintage Moondancer, My Emily

What girl doesn't love toys of the 1980s? (Never mind my bias, having been a kid in that decade. :) I always get excited when I see comeback versions of Strawberry Shortcake and My Little Pony merchandise in stores. (Has anyone else noticed Strawberry Shortcake's new glamorous long hair?) Rainbow Brite was my favorite (I had the Color Cottage, Starlite, Buddy Blue . . . ). So, when I went on a 1980s toy-themed treasure hunt on Etsy, I was charmed to find this dazzling selection. Whether you were the kid playing with them or the mom or grandmom buying them, what was your favorite 1980s toy?