Forever Barbie_ The Unauthorized Biography of a Real Doll - Lord [29]
That skirmish, however, was minor compared to the escalating controversy over the Vietnam War. By the summer of 1968, the friction between Americans who supported it and those who did not could no longer be ignored. Outside of the Democratic National Convention in Chicago, police clobbered and bloodied a crowd of antiwar demonstrators. And they did it in front of dozens of TV cameras.
The war tore popular culture apart. Laugh-In, which premiered in 1968, assaulted viewers with political realities; but other popular programs—The Andy Griffith Show, The Beverly Hillbillies, Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C.—were so rooted in a fantasy of rural innocence that they remained vehicles of escape. "The typical George Wallace voter and the Bob Dylan fan lived in different worlds," Jim Miller wrote about 1968 in The New York Times. There was no common ground, no safe imaginary landscape in which to set the American Dream. This posed a particular dilemma for Mattel: you couldn't theme and miniaturize a center that wasn't holding.
Between 1964 and 1968, Mattel used various strategies to shield Barbie from the crossfire. She began by aping Jackie Kennedy, who initially seemed a risk-free role model. At first, all she copied were Jackie's clothes, beginning in 1962 with "Red Flare," a knock-off of the first lady's Inauguration outfit. Soon Jackie had an influence on Barbie's class pretensions. In 1966, Barbie lost interest in sock hops and the senior prom and collected outfits for tonier functions—"Debutante Ball" and "Benefit Performance." In her English riding outfit, she affected Anglophilia and a love of tweed. But in 1968, Mattel dropped Jackie as swiftly as it had embraced her. She had married Aristotle Onassis, and Mattel was not about to link its Golden Girl to some stubby, shriveled Mediterranean type with alleged links to international organized crime.
As real life grew more politically polarized, Barbie turned away from it, retreating into a self-contained fantasy world. The titles of her clothes became almost completely self-referential. Where initially outfits had been named for activities—"Goin' Fishin'," "Friday Night Date," "Sorority Meeting," and "Garden Party"—they were now named for their fabric or pattern—"Knit Hit," "Swirly Cue," "Snug Fuzz," and "Bouncy-Flouncy." It was as if Mattel didn't dare admit where a real college student might wear such clothes—to march in Washington against the war, to drop acid at a Jefferson Airplane concert, or to light up a joint while occupying the president's office at Columbia University.
The doll's activities also ceased to be grounded in reality. This pattern began in 1966 with "Color Magic" Barbie, a doll whose hair and clothing changed color when a "magic" solution was applied to it. It is plausible to tint hair with a chemical; millions of women do it. It is also plausible to dye one's clothes. But only in fantasy would a woman change the color of her dress while she was wearing it.
Perhaps sensing the degree to which Barbie was out-of-it, Mattel gave her vaguely with-it relatives and friends. Francie, a cousin, appeared in 1966, followed by Casey and Twiggy (based on the real-life model) in 1967. In 1969, Barbie also got black friends—Christie and Julia (the latter based on a TV character played by Diahann Carroll).
Meanwhile, Barbie's original pals were whisked off the market. Midge vanished in 1967; and, after a humiliating 1966 incarnation as "Ken a Go Go," which required him to wear a fright wig and play a ukelele, Ken disappeared, returning with a new face in 1969. Mattel designer Steve Lewis said