

Lord, a Barbie biographer, once said she was designed “to teach women what-for better or worse-is expected of them in society.” She’s been the global symbol of a certain kind of American beauty for generations, with brand recognition that’s up there with Mickey Mouse. The brand does $1 billion in sales across more than 150 countries annually, and 92% of American girls ages 3 to 12 have owned a Barbie, thanks in part to her affordable $10 price tag. They’ll all be called Barbie, but it’s the curvy one-with meat on her thighs and a protruding tummy and behind-that marks the most startling change to the most infamous body in the world. 28 they will be sold alongside the original busty, thin-waisted form on. Three new bodies, actually: petite, tall and curvy, in Mattel’s exhaustively debated lexicon, and beginning Jan. Her plump bottom gets stuck in the same spot. “Try going feet first,” the lead designer suggests, and I do. I try to tug it over her head, but the waistline gets stuck at her shoulders, her blond mane peeking out from the neckline. It’s a blue summery frock, cinched tightly at the waist with a black ribbon.

Like every girl who has ever played with the most popular toy in history, I yank her clothes off and try to put on a new dress. Her creation has been kept so secret that the designers code-named the endeavor Project Dawn so that even their spouses wouldn’t be tipped off to her existence. I’m sitting in a bright pink room at Mattel’s headquarters in El Segundo, Calif., playing with a Barbie that only 20 people in the world know exists.
