Brookins Laurie - Dressing Barbie: a celebration of the clothes that made Americas favorite doll, and the incredible woman behind them

My sister, Margaret (right), and me with our Aunt Lena, 1937.

Aunt Lena and Uncle Lincoln, who had no children of their own, truly became surrogate parents for Margaret and myself when our mother passed away from a stroke while we were in high school. Eventually the four of us were very happy in that Minneapolis home.

As my high school graduation approached in 1950, however, those expected life choices loomed before me, and I was feeling restless. Thats also because I had found myself somewhat committed to a sixth option: wife and mother. His name was Neil: he and I had dated throughout high school, and everyone around us expected the next natural stepincluding Neil. His family had decided we would get married after graduation and I would get a job so I could support him while he went to medical school. He had not given me a ring, and no date had been set. Yet increasingly, I didnt like the idea that my life had been planned out for me.

I want more, I thought.

One Sunday while reading the newspaper, I spied an ad for a seminar highlighting jobs in the fashion industry. I put on my best interview clothes and my bravest face, and I didnt tell anyone where I was going. The first speaker was a member of the Fashion Group International, Inc., who discussed the fashion design program at the Minneapolis School of Art. She put two words together that I had never heard of as a vocation: fashion designer. It was as though someone had turned on a light. Before leaving the seminar, I filled out an applicationand when I returned home, I still didnt tell anyone.

I watched the mailbox every day for weeks until an envelope with my name on it finally arrived: I had been accepted! That feeling of wanting more suddenly no longer made me feel restless; instead, it was exhilarating.

It was time to tell Neil. His father used to drive us on our dates, he in the front seat, Neil and I sitting side by side in the back seat. Anything I discussed with Neil, his father would be privy to. So I shared my news, telling my fianc how excited I was about the opportunity and suggesting that we both could go to school, but that meant I would be unable to work and help pay his tuition. But the next day, the decision was made: our engagement was over.

More than anything, I felt relieved. And I couldnt wait for what was next.

Today the Minneapolis School of Art is known as the Minneapolis College of Art and Design, and in the early 1950s, I was among just 250 students, many of whom were World War II veterans studying on the GI Bill. On most days, I was able to catch a ride with a former GI who decided to study sculpture after he had worked on the restoration of Mount Rushmore. And instead of the sweater-and-skirt combination that had practically become my high school uniform, in college I wore blue jeans most daysjust like the guys.

This newfound freedom also came with challenges. I loved studying basic design, color, and painting, though when it was time to take Life Drawing, I discovered I was the only woman in the class alongside thirty older, male studentsand, in the center of the room, nude models. I hid behind my drawing board the first few days, until I realized it was silly to be self-conscious. We were too busy learning about perspective, proportion, and shading to be embarrassed or titillated.

Another favorite memory was when Oskar Kokoschka, the Austrian expressionist painter, came to our school to give a seminar. My textbook called him a giant of modern art, and I read everything I could find about him. He was in his sixties when he visited us, cutting quite the dramatic figure with his white hair and keen eyes.