New blog - Tinfoil Yarmulke

My current blog is a set of travel essays and ephemera related to my recent propaganda-tour with Birthright Israel and the two months of Middle East travel that followed.

Tinfoil Yarmulke
www.tinfoilyarmulke.tumblr.com

Cheers!

Being Pretty

(from my Let's Go blog)

This is one of those delicate topics where I’ll have to tread the line between vanity and annoyingly overcompensating humility. But in Italy, I am really pretty.

Save your protestations, loyal friends who will insist that I am pretty at home too. Reserve your judgment, skeptical strangers eyeballing my mugshot. I know what league I’m in at home. And I’ve just been bumped up a notch.

It’s not simply run-of-the-mill flirting I’m talking about. That I could chalk up to Italian men being infinitely more forward than Harvard men. Hell, glaciers are more forward than Harvard men.

No, it’s the freebies that show I’m really punching above my weight. The old men at Trattoria Mario who flagged the waitress to have me seated at their table and were disappointed when I returned with my prettier-by-American-standards girlfriends. My inability to do efficient nightlife research because the free drinks offered at each establishment leave me stumbling door to door like the Prophet Elijah. The museum guard who asked me out minutes after the other guard in the gallery did likewise, sparking a minor controversy regarding docent decency.

I guess it comes from looking sorta Italian, but not quite. My European friends tell me that Jewish looks are “exotic” overseas. This girl from NY never counted her hook nose as an asset before and certainly wouldn’t have expected it to go over any different in a former Axis power, but shows what she knows. Get it, nose/knows? Okay, they still don’t love my Jewish father sense of humor, but I’m working on it.

Last week, I latched on to a couple American guys whose companionship I had to earn the old-fashioned way – jeez, peanut gallery, I mean through mutual interests and bad jokes – and their presence dried up the attention. Honestly, it was a relief to go back to being conspicuous only for the normal reason: talking too loudly.

So it was a shock all over again today when the attention resumed. I stepped under the awning of a restaurant to avoid a sudden downpour, and a man came out of the restaurant to hail a taxi.

“Come with me,” he said. We had not yet exchanged a word.

“What?”

“I am going to my other restaurant by the Duomo. I own this one, and a couple others.”

“Um.”

“Come, we will have cappuccino at the other place, and then we’ll come back here and have lunch.”

See? This does not happen to me at home. And at home I don’t even consider getting in taxis with complete strangers. But I was hungry. And, well, it was raining.

So what the hell. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts. I got in the cab.

Read more: http://www.letsgo.com/article/2567-being-pretty#ixzz17VHgcp7V

Changes for Samantha

I received a copy of the American Girl catalog in the mail today, for some reason. I used to love the American Girl catalog. I spent most of elementary school optimistically marking up every issue with circles and stars, hoping that I might get more than one new doll outfit this Hanukkah (I never did. I also desperately wanted Kirsten's summer dress, and kinda still do). So I sat down with the catalog, prepared for a happy nostalgia-fest.

I knew the company had de-emphasized the core historical dolls in recent years, in favor of "girls of today." But I was pretty shocked to see that each historical girl (many of them strangers - I aged out of the series somewhere between Addy and Josefina) now only gets a two page spread in the catalog. Where's Felicity's four-poster bed? Where's Molly's canoe? Where's Samantha's school desk, with the wrought iron curliques for hiding notes? In fact... where's Samantha?!

Samantha is going back into the American Girls vault.

This? Not okay.

I know, I know, the American Girl books were designed to sell dolls. Insanely expensive dolls, and their insanely expensive (but oh so charming!) clothing and furniture. But, if memory serves, they were also AWESOME.

The books did an honest job of turning history into understandable narrative, and the dolls turned narrative into interaction. Their stories didn't shy away from tackling the darker issues of the girls' times, either - racism, classism, war, poverty, and child labor were part of these characters' lives.

Sure, the history was sometimes a little vague. I remember being totally confused about Molly's chronology. My interior monologue, circa 1992: "There's this huge war going on, and war is something that happens in the past. But she's got refrigerators and cars and stuff, so clearly this is present day. What war is this? Are we at war now? I'll sound stupid if I ask someone. I think I'll just stay confused until I'm 15."

But I also learned that poison ivy means getting covered with chamomile lotion (Molly Saves the Day). And that little girls with poor parents have to work bare-foot in factories (Samantha Learns a Lesson). And that the black character is always going to have the crappy story lines / accessories (poor Addy*).

My sadness at the loss of one of the original three girls (Molly and Kirsten are safe for now) is especially strong, I admit, because Samantha is MY girl. I had the doll, and her little white fur muff, and her sailor outfit with the whistle, and the change purse with the penny from 1904. We couldn't afford to get the matching clothes for me. But Allison Kresch wore Samantha's plaid dress to synagogue one Shabbat and omigod I was so jealous. So see! It wasn't only the books that taught about class differences!

I fear that Samantha's jettison is another step on the American Girl Company's path towards abandoning the historical line altogether. I hope that they are just cashing in on the Disney Vault concept, and will be periodically shelving each girl for a few years at a time to scare up sales. But it is all too likely that Samantha, Felicity, and Addy are being phased out to make room in the stores and catalogs for the likes of Madison, Brooke, and Taylor, with shiny little dolly iPods and dolly MySpace accounts.

The books aren't going anywhere, but the dolls themselves serve a legitimate purpose in a market glutted with Barbies and Bratz. Yes, they're only accessible to rich kids, and that's pretty gross. But rich kids getting decent dolls is still better than no one getting decent dolls. And if you're gonna buy a kid a $90 doll, she damn well better come with six novels worth of back story.

From left:
my Native American doll Lily (named for Tiger Lily),
my Romanian doll Stashie, and my Samantha.
And a Dalek, but he's a more recent addition.

*actually, Addy reminds me of Martha Jones. Both intrinsically awesome yet really poorly used by their series. Also, Kendra from Buffy. And Uhura.