Barbie Basics Model 04 Collector Doll with Red Curly Hair, Black Mini Dress & Boots, Universal-fit Fashions, Posable Petite Body & Swappable Doll Head

From: Barbie

Pete's Expert Summary

It appears my human has acquired another small, plastic effigy to adorn her desk. This one is from a brand called "Barbie," and it's some sort of "collector" item, which is human-speak for "do not touch with your pristine paws." It's a posable miniature hominid with garish red hair and a black dress. The most disturbing feature is the "swappable head," a concept that suggests a level of depravity I hadn't previously associated with my staff. While the shiny hoop earrings present a mild, fleeting temptation for a quick bat, the rest of it seems entirely static. It's designed for posing and photography, which means it will only serve to distract the human from her primary duty: documenting my own effortless elegance. A complete waste of prime napping observation time.

Key Features

  • ​Barbie Basics is back and more versatile than ever featuring a line of timeless dolls with universal-fit wardrobe classics, swappable heads and posable bodies.
  • ​This iconic Barbie Signature line relaunches with the Little Black Dress in 5 stunning silhouettes that's perfect for any occasion.
  • Barbie Basics Model 04 doll is elegantly effortless in a long-midi LBD with a thigh-high slit and platform shoes. Her red curls cascade to reveal dainty, silvery hoop earrings.
  • Designed with premium stretchable fabric, her dress is one-size-fits-all dolls. Mix, match and style so many different iconic looks on any Barbie body type.
  • A special head connector allows collectors to swap her head with other dolls in You Create Barbie Basics Kits (sold separately).
  • ​With a Made-to-Move petite body, she's perfect for posing, photographing and posting her #OOTD and #YouCreateBarbieBasics transformations.
  • Discover the whole Barbie Basics line, where every Barbie has the wardrobe essentials to wear, share and style in her own iconic ways.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The thing arrived in a transparent prison, which my human promptly dismantled. She placed the effigy, with its fiery red hair and unnervingly confident smirk, on the edge of her desk. It stood there, a silent, two-legged sentinel in a little black dress, casting a tiny, judgmental shadow over my afternoon sunbeam. I watched it from the comfort of the sofa, my tail giving a slow, contemplative thump. It did nothing. It offered no crinkle, no jingle, no tantalizing scent of catnip. It was simply… there. An intruder in my otherwise perfectly curated environment. Later that evening, drawn by a morbid curiosity, I leaped silently onto the desk for a closer inspection. The air around it was sterile, smelling only of plastic and my human's lavender hand lotion. I gave its platform-shoed foot a tentative poke with one unsheathed claw. It wobbled precariously. A flicker of satisfaction ran through me. But then I saw it. Tucked away in a separate compartment of the discarded packaging was a second head, this one with sleek blonde hair, its eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. A spare. My blood ran cold. This was not a toy. This was a kit. My human, the gentle soul who warmed my milk and remembered my favorite chin-scratching spot, was assembling her own tiny person. What was this creature's purpose? Was it a replacement for me? A tiny, silent companion that didn't shed or demand premium-grade tuna? The poseable limbs suddenly seemed less like a feature for play and more like a macabre articulation, allowing it to be contorted into whatever form my human desired. I backed away slowly, my initial boredom curdling into a deep, philosophical unease. This doll wasn't for me to play with; it was a rival. An uncanny monument to my human's bizarre whims. I decided then and there to have nothing to do with it. Let her swap its head and pose its limbs. I would not dignify this plastic golem with my attention. I am Pete, a creature of flesh and blood and magnificent fur. I will not be usurped by a red-headed mannequin with detachable parts. I retired to the highest point of the cat tree, from where I could observe my domain and pointedly ignore the strange new addition to the family. It was, I concluded, utterly unworthy.