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It was dark, windowless, and cold—almost morguelike. The chill kept our grandparents upstairs, which meant no witnesses to interrupt our crimes. A few hours of euphoric destruction, and then we would pile the carcasses in a plastic weekender bag we shoved behind a rolled-up carpet until the next time, leaving errant limbs to roll around like loose pennies at the bottom. Some of the happiest childhood memories I have were made in that basement. It was where we mounted drawn-out melodramas. Gave bad haircuts! Applied vulgar tattoos in Sharpie! And sure, it was home to the occasional decapitation. Like more than 90 percent of American women, I grew up with Barbies. Tons of them.
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Real-life Barbie Doll Valeria Lukyanova has stepped back into the public eye after a six-month hiatus with a racy new photo shoot. The year-old Ukrainian model, who appears to have developed a new set of tiny but sharply defined abs, announced the photos were in honour of the arrival of spring. Last year, Valeria claimed she no longer liked her thin frame, and decided instead that she wanted to build 'muscle' so as to emulate an Amazonian female warrior. Scroll down for video. Real-life Barbie Doll Valeria Lukyanova has stepped back into the public eye after a six month hiatus with a racy new photo shoot pictured. Posing suggestively for the cameras, Valeria said: 'The spring is late this year, but it has finally come. It has inspired me to do a photo shoot with a beautiful and all natural background Oh, how I love spring! Valeria, who insists her looks are entirely natural, except for her breasts, seems to be back in good spirits following her shock ordeal last November. According to her own account, she was the victim of a random attack close to her home in Ukraine, during which she was 'punched and strangled' by two men on Halloween night, and later hospitalised for her facial wounds.

In , Valery and Irina Lukyanova welcomed their daughter Valeria into the world. They strove to provide their beloved child with an ordinary upbringing, or at least as normal as they could in their hometown Tiraspol, Moldova, which was part of the Soviet Union at the time. As a little girl, Lukyanova boasted an extensive collection of Barbie dolls. Her favorite pastime was to dress up each doll to the nines in fashionable outfits. The difference between Lukyanova and other girls was that she took great interest in her Barbies. It became somewhat of an obsession, but little did anyone know this was a major contributing factor to the drastic transformation she would embark on later in life. Read on to find out what transformation she would make. Lukyanova was no stranger to hardships; she saw how hard her parents worked to survive and raise their children. From early in life, she was determined to achieve anything she wanted in order to secure herself more fortune and success. When she turned 16, she moved to Odessa, Ukraine where she obtained her degree in architecture from the Odessa State Academy of Constructions and Architecture.

It was dark, windowless, and cold—almost morguelike. The chill kept our grandparents upstairs, which meant no witnesses to interrupt our crimes. A few hours of euphoric destruction, and then we would pile the carcasses in a plastic weekender bag we shoved behind a rolled-up carpet until the next time, leaving errant limbs to roll around like loose pennies at the bottom. Some of the happiest childhood memories I have were made in that basement. It was where we mounted drawn-out melodramas. Gave bad haircuts! Applied vulgar tattoos in Sharpie!

And sure, it was home to the occasional decapitation. Like more than 90 percent of American women, I grew up with Barbies. Tons of them. I had a pilot Barbie and a waitress Barbie. I had a swimsuit Barbie, a disco Barbie, and several Barbies that I stripped naked to liberate them from their too-stiff organza gowns. Truth: I wanted to see their boobs.

Truth: He was pushed. I pushed him. But somehow the collection just expanded, with new Barbies added to the group to make the others jealous like proto-contestants on Bachelor in Paradise. With Barbies, I could act out. She has more brand awareness than Kim Kardashian and the queen of England. Mattel ranks it at 99 percent worldwide. In the brand also unveiled three new body types—petite, tall, and curvy. New Barbies in include a doll with a wheelchair doll and one in a fourth new shape second from left.

Like most women born in , she was underestimated from the start. At the time, she was an unprecedented experiment. But Ruth Handler was sure she would sell.

Handler was the daughter of Jewish immigrants from Poland. At 43, she was an executive vice president at Mattel, the behemoth brand she had founded with her husband Elliot Handler and his friend Harold Matson in In an interview, Handler said she loved motherhood. But the conventions of it? Well, those repelled her. Oh shit, it was awful. Fine, she was a teen swimsuit model at first, but then a flight attendant, a teacher, and an astronaut. And like all of her accessories, he was sold separately. Instead shops stocked infant dolls that seemed to reinforce the expectation that all girls should want children of their own.

Handler knew the world was bigger than the bond between a mother and infant. So she proposed a corrective: a miniature woman made from plastic with clothes that girls could swap out, like the ones the cutout dolls had. Oh, and also, she had to have breasts, just like a grown woman. That part was important.

Handler pitched the concept, and Mattel…balked. Her husband insisted no mother would ever purchase a doll for her daughter that was so developed. Her team said the doll would be too expensive to make and sell—Handler wanted zippers, darts, real hems, polish, and lipstick. Besides, what was the market? What child wanted to be around more adults? But Handler plowed ahead. And soon she found her test case in, uh, a sex object. It was and Handler was on vacation in Europe when she encountered the Bild-Lilli doll, a gag gift that men gave each other at bachelor parties.

The doll looked like a stripper, and Handler was entranced. She snapped one up for Barbara and more for research. When she returned to America, Handler found a plant in Japan to mold a Lilli-like doll and Mattel hired a movie makeup artist to give her a more approachable expression. Handler named her Barbie, after her daughter. With the basic elements nailed down, Handler moved on to the accessories. She tapped a fashion designer to create a full Barbie wardrobe. It made sense; from missiles to Barbies. Feats of craftsmanship, engineered to blow up.

For her Toy Fair debut, Barbie wore her best zebra-striped swimsuit while Handler chain-smoked and waited for the reviews to come in. It did not go well. There were almost no female shoppers on the floor at expos like the Toy Fair, which is largely an industry event.

And the male executives were confounded. Her breasts, the shape, the clothes that children could just take off —Barbie terrified them. Not one serious account bit. She drove a hot-pink Thunderbird convertible!

Still, when she went home that night, she cried. Thanks to some smaller orders, Barbie was still slated to sell in stores. As soon as it arrived, mothers went wild for it. Stores had to restock over and over.

For about a decade, sales climbed and climbed and climbed as Barbie flooded the American consciousness. There seemed to be no end to her potential—or her closet. Then came The doll was the reason the brand had landed on the Fortune list. Backlash against Barbie followed. Second-wave feminists hated her. Her conspicuous consumption. Her whiteness and thinness.

Her blond -ness. She became an avatar for a traditional, gendered role that Handler herself had never assumed: the docile, silent sidekick. Still, Barbie trucked on. Activists were not impressed. Mattel didn't comment on the critique, but around that same time it made one modest design change.

When she debuted, Barbie's gaze was cast downward. But with the Malibu Barbie, Mattel tilted them up to be level. Over the next two decades, attitudes toward Barbie ebbed and flowed, but sales more or less held on. Barbie seemed to mirror those uncertainties—the Day-to-Night Barbie wore a power suit that turned into a sequined gown and carried both a briefcase and a clutch.

In the s Barbie started to show her age. In one notable example, girls wrenched off the plastic limbs and melted them in the microwave. Others believed the abuse was evidence that the Barbies were bad for girls or gave rise to an unnatural aggression. Perhaps it was just a mash-up of pastimes; the Easy-Bake Oven was popular at the time too. But in the comments on the article, one woman pushed back on the entire premise. By the time I was eight, all of my dolls had been decapitated, delimbed, or otherwise defaced….

But my cars and stuffed animals remained intact, displayed around my room. I suspect little girls are more attuned to the world women inhabit than we think. Barbie is a literal blank slate, or so the charge goes.

All the while, most girls—nine out of 10 American girls, in fact—have Barbies. The numbers suggest that even the most horrified mothers capitulated. And with the sheer number of them in circulation came the stories. The Barbie we loved and hated. The Barbies we wanted to be and some of us wanted to maim. It was instant social cred— no one had Zipline Barbie. But to me the point of Barbie is still what happens outside that prescribed narrative.

Sex, love, careers, dramas, jealousies. And with incredible shoes.



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