Why Are We All So Obsessed With Barbie?

Does Pantone 219 C mean anything to you? It should. It’s everywhere right now, because Pantone 219 C is Barbie Pink. And just in case you've been sleeping under the plastic roof of your Barbie Dream House, there’s pink pandemonium because the Barbie movie, out July 21st, has a marketing strategy that makes Kris Jenner look lazy. There are billboards and benches plastered in pink across Los Angeles, endless brand collaborations, and a global tour featuring the cast (Margot Robbie, Issa Rae, Dua Lipa, and Ryan Gosling, to name a few)—alongside co-writer and director Greta Gerwig. (Due to the Screen Actors Guild strike, they were unable to make their last stops in Berlin and New York.) 

There's no question: We are clearly in our Barbie era. But why are grown adults (such as myself) obsessing over a movie about a doll—especially one that has been historically problematic in terms of beauty standards and body image? To the film’s credit, it tackles that conversation and then some. And having visited The World of Barbie in Santa Monica, where the history of the doll is displayed for the masses, Barbie has evolved in a big way. But I have thought a lot about why this childhood obsession has resurfaced and reached out to several tastemakers in the beauty community to get a read on whether or not I was alone in my thinking. Ahead, they explore the undeniable Barbie obsession and why we're all happily glued to the screen.

The Barbie Effect

Barbie marketing showed up at the DC Pride Parade, an episode of The Bachelorette, and the Summer Baking Championship. There are approximately 800 Barbie collaborations in my loose estimate, which brand strategist Moshe Isaacian has expertly outlined on Twitter. There’s a Barbie electric toothbrush, Barbie rugs, a Barbie XBox, high heels, cosmetics, martini glasses, dog clothing, and the list goes on. AirBNB even created an actual Malibu Dream House (overtaken by Ken, a nod to the movie). Fenty Beauty has teased a pink lip product that fans speculate has something to do with the movie. The film has its own Instagram presence with 119,000 followers, and guessing who would appear on it became its own source of entertainment. That, and the @barbiethemovie TikTok account has over 600,000 followers alone.

In addition to all of the press and consumer goods, there’s been a ton of content about the film, from covering the beauty looks and wardrobe to speculating about the movie’s plot. All that to say: people cannot get enough of all things Barbie, myself included.

It begs the question: why?

I haven’t played with a Barbie doll in decades. I haven’t necessarily thought about Barbie in the last umpteen years—with the exception of when I think of Nicki Minaj or Barb from Stranger Things. The last conversation about Barbie within the cultural zeitgeist that I was privy to was that she set unrealistic standards for women and, apparently, proportionally, shouldn’t be able to walk upright. So why am I quick to analyze every morsel of information about this movie, like it will divulge the true meaning of life? Why do I want all of the collabs? (Including the Crocs!) Why did I buy tickets for myself and a half dozen of my friends for 7:00 PM on July 20th, a day before the film officially releases, planning to turn up to the theater in full Barbiecore aesthetic? I suspect nostalgia is at play.

Barbie's Multi-Generational Reach

Barbie is meaningful to five generations. Since Barbie was born in 1959, she’s been around for the childhoods of Boomers, Gen X, Millennials, Gen Z and even Gen Alpha, some of whom are 13 now. As depicted in a teaser for the movie, children were relegated to taking care of baby dolls before Barbie entered the market. And when she did, she was the opposite of a baby doll; she was glamorous, she was grown-up, and she had a career (and later, a multitude of careers). Most of us can recall Barbie from our childhood, whether we loved or loathed her, she was a staple of multi-generational childhoods.

“I’ve always been a Barbie fan,” says Jen Atkin, celebrity stylist and founder of Mane and Ouai. “What I liked about Barbie for my generation was that they were giving us the narrative that she could do anything: She could be an astronaut, she could be a working woman—she could be a boss.” Atkin recalls how Barbie was one note initially; she wasn’t as diverse as she is now. She may have had friends like Christie and Teresa, but now every doll is Barbie, no matter what they look like. “Thank, God it's changed, but [when I was a child], Barbie wasn't any different than the music videos or the movies or teen magazines,” says Atkin, about the lack of inclusion. “Before the internet, before Instagram, we were just fed this one ideal image; it’s so fun to see now how much they have evolved.” 

Atkin, who joked her first cutting client was Barbie, suggests her Mormon upbringing may have had something to do with her career and current hobby of collecting vintage Barbie dolls. “We really weren't allowed to do much, but I think that what it really came down to was Barbie was our one safe play toy,” says Atkin. “It was kind of a fantasy. It made such a big impression on me as a kid—I really loved the idea of the glamour of it all. I don't know, maybe subconsciously it just stayed with [me]. I think it speaks to the little kid in all of us.” 

The Psychological Appeal of Nostalgia

It may be extremely millennial of me to remind you of this, but our generation has had a rough go of it, so perhaps we are looking for dopamine triggers where we can find them (whether that’s through motion picture, regressing to childlike behaviors, the clothes and makeup we wear, or all the above). The world endured a global pandemic, followed by a racial reckoning, during an election year for us Americans—enough to make anyone’s head spin. Now, three years later, it’s not shocking that maybe we’re looking for some levity, some bright spots, some solace, some fun—whether that’s bright-colored lipstick, dressing up in our best ‘90s looks, or cosplaying as a doll that makes us nostalgic for happier, simpler times from childhood.

"I think [Barbie is] happy, and that's something that everybody is really looking for,” says Amy Liu, the founder of Tower 28, who also has her own Barbie made in her likeness. “Everything about [the movie] feels so happy and so bright and like you're part of something.” She says Barbie is also about evolution and growth. “The world is kind of a grim place and the idea that something that is old can actually evolve, it's really inspirational. I also feel like Barbie in some ways is a sign of hope. If Barbie can change, can't [anything] change?”

Barbie is now a feminist and comes in a variety of shapes, sizes, abilities, and ethnic backgrounds, something all sources interviewed for this story agreed was a new appeal of the dolls. “Somebody gave me a Barbie when I was little that was, like, Barbie in a kimono,” shares Liu. “They're like, ‘Oh this is you!’ I was born in Minnesota. I'm not even Japanese. But there was nothing else. So it's almost this symbol of evolution in a lot of ways and I think it really gives people hope. It's this idea that something we've known for so long can change and can be better.”  

There’s also an element of that what goes around, comes around—what’s old is new again, history repeats itself, etc. that plays into the fanaticism. Barbie is nostalgic and there’s solace in familiarity.

“On the millennial side, we all have our comfort show from our childhood that we can go back to and escape, and that's essentially what Barbie lets us do,” says Lauren-Ashley Beck, a content creator and host with over 500,000 followers on TikTok. “When I saw the [movie] preview with Billie Eilish’s new song "What Was I Made For?" and it was showcasing all of the different scenes with Margot Robbie floating from the rooftop, it allowed me to escape into a world that I feel like I used to escape to by playing with these Barbies. It feels like a warm hug. The world is such a heavy place and Barbie allows us an escape—and we don't have to feel silly about it.”

Beck shares she wants to buy all the collabs and doesn’t feel “too old” to engage with them, either. She recalls growing up having a Teresa doll, one of Barbie’s brunette friends of Hispanic heritage that was introduced in 1987. “People crave human connection and we're all talking about Barbie, and even just us talking about [the movie], I had literally forgotten about [my] memories about Teresa and have the biggest smile on my face just thinking about those times.”

The "Barbie" Movie's 360-Degree Marketing Strategy

The film conveys that Barbie is more than one thing—she is many things. The same is true for our current enthusiasm for her. Perhaps we’re obsessing over this movie’s extended universe because we’re craving a piece of our childhood in stressful times, but maybe it’s also because we can’t escape it online.

In a way, people aren’t just obsessed with Barbie, but they’re obsessed with pink, which is synonymous with the brand (and brazenly so). My inbox is filled with pink product pitches from brands who didn’t officially license with Mattel, but want to capitalize on the Barbiecore trend. According to Liu, because the film’s marketing has been so consistent, perhaps that’s another reason we’re all fiending for Barbie.

“You can't deny the fact that the more frequently you see something, the more attracted you become to it,” says Liu. “I'm looking through my feed and everything's hot pink. There's a part of it that just gets normalized. That's part of it, but the other part is, honestly, I think it feels happy.”  

To Liu’s point, we’ve been repetitively fed Barbie content for the better part of 2023, and even more so in the last three months when the film first released images of all the Barbies and Kens and began its deluge of content. Even the real-world guerilla marketing—like the bus benches and billboards—was covered online. It’s been all-encompassing Barbiemania, and the movie is not even in theaters yet. Donni Davy, founder of Half Magic Beauty and makeup department head on Euphoria, suggests that we’re all talking about and coveting Barbie because it’s so in your face, but when a trend like Barbiecore becomes popular on apps like TikTok, we see more of it because creators capitalize and benefit from the trend—they're not inherently interested in the subject matter itself. 

“If it becomes popular enough, any and everyone will imitate it, which is both creepy and a little disturbing, and kind of amazing,” says Davy. “This can also result in millions of people everywhere being inspired.” Davy says that because Barbie is a global legacy brand, it’s also more palatable to create content around because you don’t have to see the film to understand who Barbie is. “You just inherently know.” 

The Takeaway

The fact is, Barbie is back, baby. (For now, at least.) She brings us back to our carefree days, she’s aspirational, and she's someone who helped us believe we could do anything (and that being glamorous doesn’t take away from our intelligence, either). In the film,  Barbie has evolved further, considering existential topics like our purpose in life, what it means to be human, and even death. It's a lesson that we're all multi-layered and dimensional human beings—we can love hot pink eyeshadow and care about the sociopolitical landscape, and that isn't "silly." But it's also a comforting dose of nostalgia—a temptation that's hard to ignore.

“[Barbie] feels like a Friday night at 8:00 when the brand new Disney Channel Original Movie is about to come out that they've been teasing all month long,” says Beck. “You've been seeing all these behind-the-scenes videos, the stars singing about it, creating all these music videos. And finally, it's 8:00 on Friday night after school, and your mom's gonna let you stay up to watch this movie. That's what it feels like to me.”