Saturday, 15 August 2015

Brain-dead bleach-blonde barbie dolls

A couple of posts ago I very briefly touched on something with a reasonable amount of rant potential, and I now feel (in the absence of any other material) like giving the subject of Barbie doll wannabes a bit of an airing.
We see them every day on the streets, and they're so common that we barely spare them a glance, but for those who firmly believe that what really turns a bloke on is the old-fashioned 'painted whore' look, here's a handy cut-out-and-keep guide to doing the job right.

The patent 'Barbie' look is basically a uniform for those with little to offer the world other than what they look like. First there's the long bleach-blonde hair that's been straightened to within an inch of it's life, followed by copious quantities of make-up that appear to have been applied with either a trowel or that special shotgun that Homer Simpson invented.


Then comes the perfume. The preferred method for installing this would seem to be with either a well-trained crop-duster or if all else fails, actually taking a bath in the stuff. The job's not done right unless everyone else can still smell it three hours after you walked by.
Then comes the question of clothes. In general, the sluttier the better, but there are times when the Barbie purist must adhere to certain dress codes demanded by an employer. Obviously most Barbies manage to find employment where their Barbiness is not only allowed but positively encouraged, such as behind the perfume counter at John Lewis or in an estate agents office.
Certain key features must be employed regardless of any workplace guidelines - skirts must be short enough to enable male colleagues to catch a tantalising glimpse of arse cheek or maybe even a hint of crotch. At the top end, it's essential to flaunt as much cleavage as possible so that any male is so distracted by the imminent flash of nipple that he fails to notice that you have nothing of substance to say.
Shoes will preferably have many strengths with the exception of practicality and comfort. Barbie doesn't care that she's in excruciating agony as long as she's wearing Jimmy Choo stilettos that put the overzealous cleavage as near as possible to eye level.
Next step - accessories. Here it's all about bling, and it must be bling with the right label. It doesn't matter if the right label is Gucci and buying it means living on lettuce and air for a month, because as we all know, Barbie doesn't eat anything anyway.
Finally we come to the attitude. Barbie believes that after all the effort she's been to, men will fall at her feet and do anything she wants. She holds all the power because surely there's no man in this world who doesn't want to get in her knickers, but as most men are simply not good enough for such a goddess, she can take what she wants before crushing their hopes and dreams beneath her tortured feet.

Now I know I may be a bit odd, but I don't find Barbies in the least bit appealing. I have no time for anyone who believes what they look like on the outside is more important than who they are on the inside, which makes me think that Barbie's facade is only there to camouflage a deep rooted lack of confidence and personality. Yes, sometimes they might manage to strike the right balance and actually manage to look attractive, but you still know that there's going to be nothing of long-term interest so I refuse to encourage them by pretending to not notice them.
It's like when you see an expensive supercar going down the street. The muscles controlled by the ten year old boy in you want to make the most of seeing a Lamborghini Aventador in the flesh by staring until it's out of sight, while those controlled by the mature cynical grumpy git in you refuse to give the driver the satisfaction of seeing someone staring and therefore feeling even more smug and self-important than they already do.
Barbie is just like that because, sticking with the supercar analogy, you wouldn't mind a test drive but you certainly wouldn't want the expense and aggravation of owning one.
To me, far greater appeal lies in a woman who is not afraid to be herself and to hell with anyone who doesn't like it. Tamsin Greig as Fran Katzenjammer in 'Black Books' gives me all sorts of funny feelings, and that character makes no attempt to hide who she is.
Confidence is sexy but narcissism is most definitely not.
So who exactly does Barbie really appeal to? I've asked plenty of blokes this question and so far I haven't found anyone who goes for that sort of look. Maybe the reason they all hang around together in groups trying to out-Barbie one another is because they find each other appealing, but what do I know?

Fran Katzenjammer. Yes please.
Barbie? No thanks.