So I'm rooting for Barbie to kick Bratz's bootay.
It's not going to be easy with those tiny little feet of hers. Barbie may have seniority on her side—she's been around awhile and knows the score—but Bratz has freakishly large feet in sky high platform sandals that can be literally torn off and replaced with mutant go-go boots. That Bratz is one tough chick.
I hope that Barbie resists making fun of Bratz's eye shadow or pointing out the shortness of her skirts. Smear tactics have a way of backfiring. Little girls think neon purple eyelids are pretty, not garish, and who cares if the skirts are short? They're sparkly! Besides, Barbie's no angel herself. I seem to recall seeing her in some rather itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow polka-dot bikinis of her own over the years. Not to mention the fact that, in our household, Barbie is often found lounging in the toy box completely naked. What's up with that? It's not like my daughter doesn't possess 50,000 articles of Barbie clothing with which to dress the little minx.
Don't mistake nudity for street cred. People see right through her attempts to impress . . . which is it, Lawyer Barbie or Disco Barbie? One minute she's Pediatrician Barbie, and the next she's Beach Barbie. She really expects us to overlook Teenage Barbie dating Ken just because she's got an alter ego named Teacher Barbie? Bratz, on the other hand, doesn't care what we think of her. She is what she is. Edgy. Hip. She's fun-loving and impudent, and doesn't give a rip what the old fogies say about her.
Sure, Barbie possesses the undying support of millions of middle-aged youthful and lively women who grew up with her. But Bratz is backed by screaming, allowance-clutching preteens who have been trained in the art of shopping through years of watching Hannah Montana and Cheetah Girls.
It's going to be one tough battle.
Can't we all be friends?