Growing up, I remember getting those catalogs in the mail and lugging it around the house, trying to decide if I was more Samantha or Felicity, or maybe, I would scrap all of that and go for a doll that looked just like me*?
My best friend at the time, Amber, had three dolls. She had Addy, Samantha, and Josefina, which made me believe she was extremely worldly and wise. She also had a brass bed and a few outfits to change them in, though she told me that she couldn't find their shoes. She kept them in her walk-in closet like it was their bedroom. And I envied her so much. I also sat on her once during a pillow fight, and she thought she sprained her ankle because of it.
I wonder where she is now?
Well, today, Amber, I would get to go to the coveted doll place, all by myself, like a responsible adult living in New York can do.
Only, I got really confused, and I ended up in the wrong revolving door, which led to a hallway. the guard seemed to understand my predicament, and in a bored tone, asked me where it was I was trying to go. The fact that it didn't look like I belonged was a little presumptuous, right? I thought so, at least., but without any signs, I couldn't very well pretend that I belonged there. When I told him the truth, he gave me the directions snappily, like he'd done this tons of times before, and I pushed myself back out, a little chagrinned.
Around the corner to the right, I found it! I finally made it to the American Girl Place, which was blatantly obvious with all of the dolls in the window, arranged in a Spring paradise environment with blue sky and pond. The dolls all stood there, looking cheerfully at me as I pushed my way through.
I'm not sure what I was expecting. Maybe the equivalent of Tiffany's, except with dolls, but man there were a lot of kids. They were everywhere: with their parents, with their nannies, with their fellow kids. I felt slightly creepy for going in by myself, but I didn't want to disappoint Past Georgette and her dreams, so I went up the escalator and got lost again.
It wasn't my fault though! The store's set up really oddly what with the second floor being a mezzanine. According to my research, this is an intermediate floor that's more common than I thought, though I'm not sure why. It's confusing as hell to have, especially when there are signs pointing in all sorts of directions around so I could end up in the employee's back room.
I mean, that could happen.
Once I figured myself out and made my way out of that side hallway that must've lead to the employee's back room had I gone there, I found myself on the "second floor," which was really the third, with the historical dolls. Finally! This was my moment. Nine-year-old, Past Georgette, giddily eyed the case for Molly and her friend Emily. There were several versions of her. There she was in her blue argyle. There she was in her Halloween costume. There was Addy in her bonnet and her nice party dress in her case, but...
But. But. But? But...
Nine-year-old me frowned and stamped her foot, much like the little girl in the corner did when I overheard her mother lecture her on choosing only one sweater to purchase. I had bigger issues though. Where was Samantha? Where was Felicity? Josefina?
I mean, I knew they were discontinued, but I figured that there would be some memory of them around, like a bronzed statue or maybe all of the international and era friends sitting on a couch in a scene from Friends? At least a poster for goodness' sakes!
But none. I walked right up to these new dolls, this Caroline or Cecily and Kit. Who were these women usurping everything I knew and loved? I didn't know their books.
Next to me, a man asked about Caroline, standing in her case, smiling, and the worker asked him if he would like the doll, the book, or the starter outfits. Apparently, he wanted all of it, and the worker plum took out a large doll-sized box and a few others, piling everything into the man's arms, pointing him in the direction of the register.
I read the prices quickly in the case--the dolls were in a kid-proof glass case on stands. Their prices sat next to their accessories--and I saw that one outfit would be $28. A pair of glasses for a doll whose eyes weren't even real was $10. I looked over at that man who purchased everything so freely, without a second thought over the doll's story or even which outfits he got. What was this place?
I thought of what my mom said when I showed her the catalog. Looking over Molly's tin lunch box and peanut butter sandwich, I scoffed, "I could make that." Better yet, I could make an edible version of that!
Upstairs, at the cafe, I was amazed that the cafe was actually hidden behind closed doors as if it were that fancy. I was doubly surprised that families impatiently waited near the bitsy-babies, the baby-doll version of the American Girl line. I felt impressed that they even waited, especially since these were just for little girls, but also slightly aghast at the luxury these little girls were getting. Maybe because I didn't have it myself.
Still, there was no room in that place for nine-year-old me and grown-up me, I guess. I walked out really quickly, passing my mistaken revolving door on the way.
Next to the grandeur of the bright red sign and dolls and girls inside, my first door was a little dingy and unassuming. There weren't people inside, but that guard.
As an aside, here's a very powerful episode of Arthur where three of the girls go to World Girl World, their version of American Girl dolls. I like this episode for its allegorical purposes.
*As a confused Pacific Islander growing up in the South, having a doll that looked like myself would've been amazing!
Do you remember on Live Journal, where you could put mood and music? Well, Mood: Sleepy. Music: Madonna's Borderline.
Post Edit: This was originally "You Visit the All American Girl Store" as if it was a Tom Petty boutique. Sorry.
Post Edit: This was originally "You Visit the All American Girl Store" as if it was a Tom Petty boutique. Sorry.