Compost Studios

One of my favorite gifts ever arrived when I was in second grade. It was a Crissy doll, a toy I’d seen advertised during Saturday morning cartoons. Crissy was all about her hair, “It grows and grows, right down to her toes!” the ads exclaimed breathlessly.

Well, not quite. Crissy had a big hank of supplementary hair that emerged from an opening at the crown of her head. You could use a knob on her back to reel it into her head and shorten her do, or you could push in her “belly button” and give the hank of hair a gentle tug and it would go all the way down to her waist (not her toes, thank you very much!). It could then be blended into the rest of her hair and styled—the original hair extension concept!

She had auburn hair and big brown eyes, just like me. She wore a blue satin minidress and came with a big carrying case. I made her clothes, sewing simple things from my mom’s fabric scraps and crocheting her shawls and hats.

I kept Crissy forever. When my little girl got to be about five, I let her play with Crissy from time to time, hauling her out of the closet with great ceremony. Then last winter, I picked Crissy up and saw in horror that E-Grrrl had gotten a bit too enthusiastic cranking that knob on Crissy’s back and had sucked the big hank of hair all the way into Crissy’s body—never to be seen again. Damn. What was I to do? I had to send to Crissy to the Land of Forgotten Toys because I could not have her accompany us to Europe with bad hair and a gaping head wound.

Malibu Barbie, another favorite Christmas present from childhood, is enjoying her European vacation. She’s thinking of changing her name to Riviera Barbie. She arrived under the tree when I was about 9, wearing a powder blue swimsuit, big pink sunglasses, and carrying a yellow towel. Perfectly tanned, with long flowing blonde hair, she looks just as fabulous now as she did fresh out of the box.

Once in a while, I’ll pull her and Skipper out and E-Grrrl and I will dress them in the many outfits I’d collected for them when I was little. Cross-legged on the floor of the attic playroom, the past meets the present and I see my childhood self in the daughter who doesn’t physically resemble me in the least.

I hope she still remembers our play dates with Crissy and Barbie when she has crows’ feet, and perhaps children, of her own.

December 21, 2005