American Girl

What follows is a story of my trip to the American Girl store at Mall of America. "Audrey, did you go in there just so you could snark about how stupid it was?" is your first thought, and no, I didn't. I'm mentoring a 9-year-old girl who saw the big red storefront in the mess of logos that is Nickelodeon Universe (eck) and she wanted to go. She really wanted to go.

"American Girls, isn't that all that doll shit?" you would ask if you were never a girl, and you would be right. American Girl started out as books. Books about different girls of different ethnicities during different time periods. My favorite was Felicity.

Why? Because I liked stories set in colonial times and horses? Lord no. Because she had red hair, and when I was a kid I thought girls with red hair were so pretty. I knew a redhead in my grade school who looked just like Felicity and I wanted to adopt her. Pippi Longstocking was undoubtedly my favorite storybook anarchist/pathological liar. Amy Yasbeck. Etc. The illustrations in the books were good, but they couldn't save the stories from being so bland. Felicity was a horse girl, I wasn't. End of American Girl fanship.

The American Girl mecca was once just a series of books (I remember when they first said hi to their "one black friend," Addy). Now, it's a franchise of dolls and accessories. The books are second tier. In fact, the books could be considered just an accessory to the dolls (an accessory you have to READ! Blech!!) When I was a kid (back in the 1800s!) I wanted an American Girl doll. Well, I wanted one as much as I knew they were expensive and that other girls had the doll and I wanted to fit in. I knew that I would only get the books, though. In fact, I mentioned the American Girl doll over the phone once to my aunt as a Christmas present possibility and she laughed. Rightfully so. Before accessories, the dolls were about $60 then ($100 now).

Fast forward 20 or so years to now, and here I am, at the American Girl store at the Mall of America. Little girls are attacking the shelves for the accessories and dolls they want and their moms are happy to oblige. No dads in sight, but I did spot an unhappy little brother. I looked at the price tags to determine if maybe they weren't as bad as I thought. This tiny doll right here, who is shorter than Barbie? $22.

And she doesn't have half of Barbie's charisma or partying, fun-loving nature!

I walked through the store with a 9-year-old who wanted to "window shop." You know what window shopping turns into? An aggressive, relentless need to buy stuff. And when you're surrounded by girls holding $100 dolls, you want one, too. There is even a doll hair salon at this store. You know, when you don't feel like brushing your doll's hair or are just not as attracted to her anymore. I was happy to brush my Barbie's hair. If I didn't like the style, I braided it. If I think she needed to be edgier, I painted her hair with red permanent marker. And so on.

I wondered aloud to my little where Felicity was. I told her I liked Felicity when I was her age (for like a whole year!) Well, I unfortunately was in earshot of an American Girl store employee. And not one of the bored, sad people behind the register in polos and khakis. An energized, doll-fanatic gay in a black suit and headseat.

"Felicity left our store last week," he said, making this face :( It was like Felicity had died, or like she got a job in Singapore and maybe we'll see her at Christmas. I smiled politely and wanted to grab my little's hand and tell her that I smelled poisonous gas.

My little seemed so broken-hearted. Not just at the fact that she didn't have one of these dolls (her parents must not love her that much!) but that none of these dolls had short hair like she does. You could get a doll that looks like you personalized and shipped to your front door! Unless you have short hair, of course. Because then, well, fuck you.

I wanted to impart some knowledge upon her about materialism and peer pressure and feeling alienated and how none of this stuff will matter in a few years anyway. "You see those girls over there, watching their dolls get their hair done? Those girls are NOT going to wind up on the Supreme Court, let me tell you that!" But it was useless. I knew what it was like to be that age, growing up in a family that has less money than hers does, wanting to have the same things other kids have. I was able to temporarily divert her attention when I found my safe haven. No materialism, no judgments. Just love.