American Girl Dolls: A Retrospective
Or we share our idols for friendship from a young age
If you’re a 00’s girl, like the four of us are, then you know the examples of friendship we had as young girls. Wrapped inside a cherry-red box with a little window above the face lay your new friend. Maybe she looks like you, maybe she’s a character that’s created to teach you a valuable lesson about life. Either way, she’s yours, she’s gorgeous, and you’re in love. On our last Houseparty chat, we discovered (though not really that surprised) that American Girl Dolls were a pivotal part of all of our childhood. Some of us went overboard in our obsession (Shelby and Aimee) while the other two (Kayla and Sydney) remained reserved and down-to-earth with their collecting. No matter how many dolls were in our lives, they were crucial to our upbringing and shaped the bonds of sisterhood we still carry with us today.
Shelby’s Addiction:
Confession: I have 17 American Girl Dolls. “I’m pretty sure I own a few of those new bricks,” my father said, referring to the new and improved American Girl Doll store that was erected in Chicago when I was a young adult. The old store, off of Michigan Ave, was a place of wonders. We would visit frequently — shopping in the city was a big way for my recently-divorced father to prove his love for me and my older brother; he may have moved out, but he still loves us! I received my first AG doll for Christmas when I was around six or so and my parents separated when I was seven. Money spending, and exclusively visits to the AG store downtown, became a ritual for my father and I (other family members like my lovely late-aunt and the not-so-lovely girlfriend of my grandfather were also entwined in my collecting). I rarely had my dolls, and certainly not my entire collection, at my mom’s. The reason? I actually had friends at her house. This was the house I was born in, grew up in, had neighbors and a cul-de-sac with other kids my age. My father moved into a predominantly older neighborhood (on its own golf course); all of which was new for everyone but especially two young kids. We needed something to do on the weekends we were over there so Christian and my dad turned to video games by purchasing all the latest consoles and games while my dad and I turned to AG dolls. My dolls, all 17 of them, became my thing because I didn’t have anything else — truly they were my friends while I was at my dad’s.
Of course, there was also the clout that came with owning 17 of certainly the most expensive toy for our age group. An average doll was around $85-$100, and, allow me to reiterate, I have fucking 17 of them. It wasn’t just dolls either: the amount of furniture, accessories, and clothing I own is vast. I had probably five three-drawer units filled with items. Each doll has their own bed, pet, and a miniature doll for themselves. In some cases, since most of my dolls are the Girl of the Year doll, I have their entire collection which includes a ton of crap. I’ve had AG birthday parties both at the store and in my home. I’ve been to exclusive launches and crazy activities like baking with a professional baker in the AG Kitchen. I’ve had tea parties with friends and our dolls. I’ve visited the hair salon where my doll gets a new updo and, of course, I’ve shopped till I’ve dropped. I always left with my cup overflowing and my hands heavy with red bags. I was totally spoiled but if there’s something to be spoiled in, I’m so glad it was AG dolls. I may have not been taught the value of the dollar, but I was taught that my collection was valuable, each piece worth something, so was extremely delicate and proud of my hoard. When I became an adult and had to pack everything up for the next generation, I bought acid-free paper to wrap each doll in, categorized and cataloged every single item. Through the look-alike dolls, I learned strength and pride in my girlhood. Through the historical dolls, I became exposed and subsequently curious about past experiences. I read the stories, I played with the historical items and clothing, and I lived the American Girl life.
So if you’re reading this American Girl, hire me. I want to help other young girls learn about themselves in ways I was so fortunate to.
Sydney’s Modest Education:
I want to say I was 7 when I got my first American Girl doll. I don’t remember asking for one or knowing what it was, but I loved her. She was one of the dolls that was supposed to look like you. She had a black turtleneck under a red patent leather overall dress with tights and combat boots. Very grunge. Very 90s. I loved her immediately.
A couple of years later my mum, aunt, and grandmother took my sister and me into the city to see the Rockettes and go to the American Girl store. We each got $100 (which is like a gajillion dollars if you’re under the age of 10) and got to shop for our dolls. To this day it is one of the best memories I have of growing up. I remember how much it meant to my family to take the trip together. I wish I could dig up the very cute photos of me sleeping on New Jersey Transit or my sister and me in our matching outfits.
American Girl dolls are very expensive privileges that I took for granted up until recently. Sure, I knew they were expensive, but I didn’t realize how expensive until I got older. While they are an inaccessible symbol of gross capitalism, they also gave me my first look at women’s history. I may not have had a whole bunch of these dolls, but the books and movies were windows into the souls of these other characters (Shailene Woodley as Felicity is a revelation). They’re actually an incredibly important learning tool for young girls to be taught about being smart and strong and courageous.
Aimée’s Sister Bonding:
Between my sister and I, we have 19 American Girl dolls. That includes 12 historical dolls (the superior dolls), two American Girl Today dolls, one Doll of the Year, two Bitty Babies, and a set of Bitty Twins. I remember being little and seeing my older sister with her dolls and wanting so badly to play with them. Especially their hair — I couldn’t wait to get my hands on all that synthetic hair! But instead, because I was too young to properly play with such a nice doll, I received a Bitty Baby instead. Now, don’t get me wrong, I loved Betty (what I “cleverly” named my Bitty Baby), but it wasn’t until I got Kirsten a year or two later that I finally felt fulfilled in the doll department. And actually, because of Kirsten’s drab wardrobe (sorry not sorry — she lived on the frontier), it wasn’t until I got Kit that I really REALLY was content with my dolls.
In addition to playing with these dolls’ hair and dressing them up, I loved reading their accompanying novels. I may have just thrown shade at Kirsten’s wardrobe, but I loved that she was a Swedish immigrant in the Midwestern United States, just like my paternal ancestors. Her books were probably one of the first things that got me interested in learning about my family history. On the other hand, Kit’s books fascinated me with their frank portrayal of life during the Great Depression, and they later supplemented my understanding of what I learned about that time period in social studies classes at school. As I type this, I’m wondering if I should grab those books while I’m here at my parents’ house and bring them back for my students to check out…they’re easy, fun, and informative reads!
To put it plainly, I love these dolls more than anything. If I had the time to dress them up, brush their hair, and play with them every day, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But as it were, I’m lucky if I have enough time at Christmas to put them all in their pretty holiday clothes (which I last managed to do in 2017).
It’s obviously not normal that my sister and I have this many American Girl dolls. As you may have noticed in the photos above, there are several more dolls in the 2017 pictures than there are in the 2003(?) picture. Even though we grew into teens and adults over the years, my mom kept getting more and more American Girl dolls for us. She just couldn’t resist some of them. A new AG movie came out, so a new friend doll was released? Had to get her. Julie and Ivy grew up in the 70s, just like she did? An absolute must-buy. Cécile and Marie-Grace are from New Orleans and have pretty, frilly clothes? Well, that’s just a no brainer!
All teasing of my mom aside, I really do feel that the American Girl line of dolls does an overall excellent job of representing so many of the different types of real American girls there are. There are girls of different ethnicities, girls from different parts of the country, girls of different religious backgrounds, girls from different time periods, girls with unique interests and personalities, and even girls that you can make look exactly like YOU. Seriously, they now even have bald dolls for girls going through chemo. It just melts my heart.
From the dolls, to the books, to the movies, to the cafes and stores, the American Girl brand is just perfection — or, it’s about as close to perfect as you can get. I love seeing the new dolls they come out with each year, and I eagerly await the day that I can buy American Girl dolls for daughters (or sons!) of my own.
Kayla’s Closest Friend:
As I’ve mentioned before, some friends are around for life and some friends come and go. Well, I’d like to start off this piece by saying that I have been a shitty friend. There was a time that Samantha and I were close. We played house together, wore matching outfits, and even cut each other’s hair (more on that later); however, with time we slowly grew apart. I grew up and matured, and you could say that she…didn’t. Now, you may be wondering, “Gosh, Kayla, who were you such a shitty friend to?” and to that I will answer, “My American Girl Doll, Samantha.” Don’t get me wrong, she was my best friend for a time, but as I grew up, I slowly stopped playing with her and confiding in her. If I’m being totally honest, Aimée and I just found her on Monday locked in her doll carrying case for God knows how long. I can only imagine that she felt exactly like Jessie from Toy Story 2 when she was abandoned by her original owner. Alexa, play “When She Loved Me” by Sarah McLachlan…
Luckily, before she was shoved into the doll carrying case (never to be seen again until 2020), Samantha and I had some wonderful memories. I can still remember opening her box up on Christmas morning of ’01 or ’02. Her beautiful checkered dress and long curled hair was the epitome of perfection. At the time, I didn’t realize she would become a collector’s item with the coveted “ⓒ Pleasant Company” etched into the back of her neck. If you don’t know, Pleasant Company (PC) sold to Mattel in 1998, and since then, the dolls have been marked with the signature American Girl Doll title; however, that is besides the point. That Christmas, she was my favorite gift. My parents also got me all the Samantha books and matching dresses which was the COOLEST thing ever for young Kayla.
I did everything with Samantha. She slept in my bed, ate at the table, read books with me, and even went “backyard camping.” I also had a little doll carriage that I pushed her around the neighborhood in. Unfortunately, at one point I got a little carried away when playing with her and decided to chop off all her hair. I really should send her to the doll hospital that AG has to get her fixed up!
One amazing thing about American Girl dolls is that they all have their own backgrounds and stories. These stories are meant to teach young girls about different historical eras through the eyes of a girl. Samantha’s story is set in the Victorian era of the early 1900’s. She was orphaned at a young age and sent to live with her strict grandmother, also known as Grandmary. She struggles with balancing her mischievous side and living up to the high expectations of her grandmother. I think she was most relatable to me because of her fun-loving spirit and loyal nature.
Okay, since starting this piece I have decided that I am going to send her to the doll hospital and get her cleaned up so hopefully one of my children can play with her one day. Maybe that would make up for years of being a shitty friend and locking her in a carrying case. Unlike myself, she was always a good friend and I would like her to have a new “bestie” one day.
*Edit* — Aimée has since informed me that I can’t fix her hair because they would have to replace her whole head, therefore losing the coveted “Pleasant Company” name…. Ugh!
