I was on the way home from work the other day and opposite me on the buswas a young woman with her little girl in a pushchair. Mum had justbought her a cheaper version of a Barbie doll complete with pink glitterdisco outfit and shoes - the little one's face was a picture ofdelight.
I loved my Barbie when I was a child. The twisty waist that could do anExorcist-style 360-degree turn, and the bendy knees that I used to tryand get to go backwards thus turning Barbie into the incredible crabwoman.
I'll never forget when I accidentally turned a new one into "PunkBarbie" by cutting her hair, which had been glued into her plastic headat strategic angles, thus rendering her as a tufty forerunner to thesafety-pin generation.
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