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The Dollhouse
And you
thought dolls were child’s play. Don’t tell that to Mattel, who
probably used lawyer-Barbie to fight its legal battle against
the Bratz dolls. According to a blog post on walletpop.com,
Mattel recently won a $100 million verdict in Barbie’s favor in
a copyright infringement case. It seems that the designer of the
Bratz dolls, Carter Bryant, worked for Mattel when he came up
with the design for the new dolls. He quit Mattel and took his
idea to MGA Entertainment, which is not a smart move when you’ve
signed a contract that any ideas you come up with on company
time belong to the company.
And Mattel
isn’t satisfied with a mere $100 million.
“Mattel wants
a judge to ban MGA Entertainment, the maker of the Bratz line,
from making more Bratz dolls and also wants existing products
impounded and destroyed,” writes WalletPop’s Beth Pinsker, who
later wonders, “If Mattel wins, will county sheriffs be breaking
into people’s homes to collect their illegal dolls, or will they
issue a lead-paint-style recall, where people are asked to
destroy them?”
Now, I
understand the concept of signing a contract whereby you promise
that any brainstorms that you have on company time belong to the
company, but I have a hard time understanding the idea that any
one company owns the doll concept. If that were the case, then
Mattel would have to sue every toy manufacturer on the face of
the earth. I seem to remember that there may have been a doll or
two around before Barbie was born. Ever since the first parent
tied some straw together for their child, dolls have been part
of our families and memories.
I’m betting
that everyone remembers their favorite doll. Some may even still
have them packed away because it’s hard to throw a favorite toy
in the trash. I gave away my Barbies long ago, but my Ginny doll
still rests comfortably in the attic along with her faithful
dog.
When family
friends gave me that Ginny doll, Barbie hadn’t yet made her
appearance on the doll stage. I played with Ginny for hours,
combing her long, red hair and dressing her in my favorite
outfit: a yellow ice skating ensemble complete with swirly skirt
and skates.
But as a child
of the fifties, I couldn’t escape Barbie. Though I had both the
brunette and the blonde, it was the outfits and accessories that
entranced me: the tiny shoes, hats, belts, jewelry and bags.
Never mind that she was a pain to dress with her pointy, stuck
out fingers that caught in all the material, and that she
couldn’t bend her knees or elbows or open her eyes — one look at
a glamorous outfit and all was forgiven. And of course there was
the house, the car, the beauty shop and bathtub, and the
ultimate accessory of all, Ken.
What I enjoyed
most was setting up the scene. I would build furniture to stage
elaborate adventures for them to act out. Until I was 12 years
old, I didn’t have my own room, so that meant that each time I
wanted to play with Barbie, I had to set everything up and then
put it all away when I was done. Most times it took so long to
set up that I never actually played with the dolls themselves.
My most
precious Barbie memory is all the outfits that Mom knit for her.
Sweaters, skirts, coats, hats, dresses — Mom created a wonder of
miniature haute
couture. I still can’t believe that I gave it all
away to a family friend when I left for Israel. Years later,
while visiting the family, I saw my old dolls lying around the
floor like so many pieces of junk and couldn’t believe how much
it hurt. I had treated those dolls like royalty. The dolls were
beyond saving, but then I spotted the clothing that Mom made. I
gathered them up and took them home, determined to save the
lovely things Mom had made. I still have them.
But Barbie
couldn’t fill all a little girl’s needs. There were times when
you needed a Betsy Wetsy, who drank from a bottle and then
magically wet a diaper for you to clean. And Chatty Cathy, who
came with a string in the back of her neck that you pulled to
hear her say brilliant things like, “I’m hungry, feed me,” or
“I’m wet, change me.” It’s a good thing that doll occasionally
threw in an “I love you, Mommy” or I would have thrown her out
the window.
The world
changes every day, but dolls are always with us. I used to laugh
when I saw my girls setting up scenes for their Barbies the way
I had. But they had each other to play with so their dramas were
more elaborate.
Then one day
Mariel spotted my Ginny doll in the attic and fell in love with
her. I told her that the doll was old and fragile and that she
had to be extra gentle with her. I kept Ginny packed away to be
taken out as a treat because I was afraid that she wouldn’t last
through another little girl’s play.
But Mariel,
young as she was, understood how much I loved the doll and she
was always gentle with her. Toymakers may see their creations as
nothing but profit, but little kids know better. Dolls hold our
imaginations, our dreams, and most of all, our memories.
November 20, 2008
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