Today the blogosphere is awash with interest in two innovations in the world of the fashion doll. The Vatican (of all places) is calling for worldwide distribution of the first bald Barbie – initially designed for children going through chemotherapy – while Mattel has unveiled what has been dubbed the ‘drag queen Barbie’, although a casual viewer may fail to see a great departure from the icon’s usual style.
With such an emphasis on the diversification of fashion role models, I started wondering – if Barbie has encouraged me to lead a life of bleach-bottle-blonde and push-up bras, what other influences in my youth have led me to dress the way I do today? So here are the top five fashion lessons I learnt as a child – for better or for worse, you decide.
- Shoes are most magical at their most impractical: My poor feet never stood a chance. With the triple click of Dorothy’s ruby slippers or the perfect fit of Cinderella’s glass shoe, I not only expected too much from my future footwear but was doomed to a life of teetering impracticality, damp soles and blistered toes. Watching the classic movie The Red Shoes should have deterred me, but all it served to do was glamorise the pain. Glass may be a step too far for even the most adventurous fashionista but, judging by the profusion of sequined pumps and heels hitting the shops this season, I mustn’t be the only one still secretly dreaming of an adventure in Oz.
- Can’t decide on a colour? Buy both: I have Disney to thank for this one. Aurora waltzes into her happily ever after at the end of The Sleeping Beauty. She is (somehow!) oblivious to her beautiful ballgown but her fairy godmothers squabble over whether it should be blue or pink. In true girly style I favoured the latter, but the idea of choice (and the colour-coding of Belle’s wardrobe in Beauty & the Beast) encouraged in me the dangerous habit of picking up several of the same item. I’m undecided on this one. If the cut and style are perfect, part of me says why not? But perhaps this one’s better left for Primark vests and frilly knickers, especially on a student budget.
- Make dresses out of curtains: Maybe this one’s just me. Brought up on a diet of The Sound of Music and Gone with the Wind, I viewed all household drapery as a potential target and wrapped myself in curtains to rehearse the effect. Moving into a house with large windows and colourful 70s décor was a dream and I even confided my fervent wish to my mother. She assured me that my particularly-coveted heavy red velveteen would look hideous, but with A/W ’12’s obsession with texture and embellishment, I like to think I was just way ahead of my time.
- Animal print can make you look like Cruella de Vil: Like a lot of little girls in the 90s, the 101 Dalmatians effect had me dressed in cheap faux fur and garish prints. I loved it at the time but my sudden realisation of its naffness scared me off the perennial trend in a way that I’m not sure I’ll ever be fully able to recover from. I have two rules for making it work (if you really can’t resist!). 1: Try the print in a different colour – leopard print in monochrome, snakeskin in purple. It makes it more fashionable, less Tarzan. 2: Limit to accessories, but don’t be too obvious. Leopard-print stilettos will always scream stripper.
- You can never have too many clothes: The philanthropic message of Hodgson Burnett’s The Little Princess was most definitively lost on my childhood self. For those of you who haven’t read the book, rich girl Sara (before being orphaned) not only owns a most magnificent wardrobe, but has everything in miniature for her favourite doll, Emily. Everything. Frocks in lace, velvet and muslin. Hats. Coats. Lace-trimmed underclothes. Furs, gloves and even handkerchiefs. The doll is taken to a dressmaker to have everything custom-made. This was my Pretty Woman moment before I was old enough to watch Pretty Woman. I wanted pampered. I wanted quality. But more than anything I wanted quantity. Even now, when I try to make investment purchases (or at least buy clothes that will survive a spin cycle), there is something delicious about a large-scale haul, that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to escape.
