The American Girl Store Memoirs

I want to tell you that as a parent I've gotten an induction into a culture of all sorts of goofy stuff that I never thought I would before. Diapers and bottles and Dora the Explorer and Hannah Montana and youth soccer and the mysterious attraction of 8000 tiny trucks laying on the floor. But even I was not prepared for this latest object of my daughter's affection; The American Girl.

The American Girl is a high end line of dolls that markets to everybody over the age of 2. Apparently they have some sort of cheating, telemarketer database that has the names and addresses of any girl actually born or found on a train, and the day she turns 2, they start sending out these catalogs en masse. I know this because they began constantly appearing in my mailbox every month around the same time as my Barely Legal showed up. Wait, scratch that last part.

Anyhow, as my daughter grew, she began to really fall in love with these dolls, just like everybody falls in love with stuff that costs more than it's worth, like the toddler equivalent of a coach purse. So, schlums to the almighty corporation we are, we bought her one for Christmas. It came with a bunch of stuff, so that we wouldn't feel too terribly cheated. Diapers, and a backpack, a hat, a blankie, a couple of outfits, etc. OK fine, I can live with that. She really loves the doll, it's become like a tiny siamese twin joined at her arm, it's a reasonable investment.

The thing that got me is that there is a store at the Mall of America called the American Girl Store, where you can buy additional accessories for your doll. So, one day, we went there. And this place was basically a shrine to the excess everything we give to our children. It was unreal. It was packed to the gills with women and girls with their noses turned up collectively at the rest of the world. You could tell which side of the tracks they were from, and if, by some miracle you couldn't tell, you could hear it.

8 year old: Mom, you said last time I could get these 47 things. MOMMMMMMMM!!!!????
Mom: Hold on Kelsey, I'm on the phone with my life coach.
8 year old: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

I unsuccessfully tried to fit in.

Me: (Speaking in the general direction of a woman): Wow, this is kinda like Cabbage Patch kids if they were Kennedy's, not orphans huh?
Woman: I highly doubt it. (Stalks away)
Me (Sadly to myself): Slut.

Also, there were at least 8 employees behind this extremely large pack of people whose sole job....was to.....wait for it..... do the doll's hair. That's right, for $20, you could have these people give your doll any kind of hairstyle you wanted which was inspiring a frenzy that I just stayed away from because I figured all that would happen is I would wind up smooshed in between two people even more plastic than the dolls themselves.

So before I start patting myself on the back too hard for railing against the bourgeous snobs inhabiting the store, let me just remind myself that I was there too, I bought something too, I rationalized the prices too, and you know what? I'm pretty sure I'll be back too.

Last thing. I saw this nerdy guy there who I always see at the gym. He looked like a member of Devo. He recognized me and I recognized him. We said nothing to each other. The following monday he walked up to me at the gym. He said, "Were you..." and I blurted out, "ISAWYOUATTHEAMERICANGIRLSTORE!!" I now refer to him as "American Girl Guy." He is OK with this. I am at peace.