When I was in the sixth grade, I gave away my Barbies. I hadn’t played with them for some time, as my interests had shifted from picking out clothing and boyfriends for a doll to picking out clothing and boyfriends for myself. My playdates turned into gossip sessions, and while I wasn’t quite ready to find out what a naked man looked like, I was pretty confident in the idea that lying under his pants was not a pair of flesh-toned, plastic, irremovable boxer briefs. Exactly 24 hours later, I cried hysterically, told my mother that I wasn’t ready to give them up, and took them back from the little girl down the street to whom we’d given them. We put them up in the attic, and my mom told me I could keep them until I was really ready to part with them. They’re still there today.
The thought of my Barbies having another home — a home that, perhaps, was better for them than my own, where they’d be loved, and played with, and get awesome new haircuts before the little girl realized that hair only grows on real people — was too much for me. I couldn’t bear it. If I’d been told that my Barbies would be mangled, cut open, and worn as jewelry by obvious sadists, I wouldn’t have been able to move on. Who would do such a thing? These are
people Barbies! Designer Margaux Lange would. Sicko. For prices ranging from $80-$230, you can shop his Nazi Ed Gein-esque collection of jewelry made from Barbie parts. You can wear a creepy smile necklace, a butt bracelet, or a titty broach! Whatever your sick, twisted heart desires. Here are some pieces in his collection now.
[via 22 words]
Image via Margaux Lange