Let me back up. At the end of our “Anne Glynn” stories, there’s a note about the author. It reads:
A collector of vintage Barbies and younger boyfriends,
Anne Glynn currently resides in the American Southwest.
If you’re here, you know the notice isn’t entirely truthful. “Anne Glynn” isn’t one person. Of the two people who share that pen name, one of them has never had a younger boyfriend. The one who had younger boyfriends no longer collects them. And, although I continue to be fascinated by vintage Barbies, I’m far from being an obsessed collector. Yes, Glynn claims that I have every Barbie reference book that’s ever been printed, but I don’t own any of the expensive dolls and all of the outfits I’ve found are in less than mint condition. I think I’m fairly balanced, hobby-wise, when it comes to Ruth Handler’s creation. For example, even though I had all of the supplies necessary to bake a cake, I never suggested that my friends and I celebrate Barbie’s birthday on March 9th. I may have made her a card, but it's not like I sent it.
(Yes, I’m aware that Ken’s birthday falls two days later on March 11th. No one celebrates Ken’s birthday.)
Which brings me to what happened the other day. Laurie tagged me on that Facebook post. When I followed up on it, I discovered it was an article about Margaux Lange and her mad Barbie jewelry. If you follow the link, you’ll find that Margaux hasn’t cherished her Barbie dolls. She hasn’t traveled across the state to find the parts to rebuild a plastic yellow ’70s Dream House to give them a place to stay. (It’s the very coolest Dream House ever.) No, M.L. takes new Barbie dolls and... cuts them up.
Their plastic eyes go into brooches. ($800.) Their “twin mounds” become necklaces ($250) or earrings ($130 and sold out). Their smiles become pins ($90 – sold out) and earrings ($160 – sold out) and pendants ($240 – sold out). If she’d used Ken dolls in her abattoir, I might have understood. Might even have approved. But Barbie?
Glynn caught me staring at the screen. Leaning over to see what held my attention, he said, “Whoa, that’s different.”
It was so different that I was speechless.
“They’ll probably have the jewelry in stock again by your birthday,” he told me. “Interested?”
“You monster,” I said.