Pete's Expert Summary
My human seems to have acquired a box containing a small, plastic effigy of herself, accompanied by an arsenal of minuscule tools and, most offensively, a plastic replica of a lesser species—a puppy. From what I can gather, this "Barbie" doll pretends to be a stylist for... well, for no one, as she is the only animate being in her strange, plastic world, save for the frozen-in-place dog. The kit includes a little cart, which has some potential for being pushed off a table, and a variety of tiny implements that are clearly designed to be lost under the sofa within the hour. While the sheer quantity of small, battable objects is noted, the overall concept of playing "hair and makeup" with an inanimate object seems a profound waste of energy that could be better spent sleeping in a sunbeam.
Key Features
- This Barbie doll and accessories playset features an on-set stylist theme from Barbie and Barbie On Set and inspires kids to write their own scripts for playtime fun.
- Barbie 'Malibu' doll is handling hair and makeup with 14 themed pieces that include a puppy, stylist cart and storytelling items like a smock, hair dryer, brush and makeup palette.
- Some of the pieces have handles that fit the doll's hands to immerse imaginations in role-play and storytelling fun.
- Use the cart to hold pieces during play or store them afterwards.
- Barbie 'Malibu' doll wears her blonde hair straight and has on a trendy look with apron that can really hold her tools.
- With lots of creative inspiration, this on-set playset makes a great gift for kids 3 years old and up, especially those who love styling and fashion fun.
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The offering was presented on the living room rug, a chaotic landscape of plastic and cardboard. My human called it "Barbie On Set," which I immediately interpreted as a territorial claim. Before me stood the interloper: a blonde giantess with a fixed, unnerving smile and eyes that held no soul. She was surrounded by her entourage—a three-wheeled cart and a collection of tiny, brightly colored artifacts. And then I saw it. Tucked beside the cart was a tiny, molded caricature of a dog. An insult. This was not a toy; this was a diorama of my deepest annoyances. My first move was tactical. I stalked the perimeter, my gray-and-white tuxedo blending seamlessly with the shadows under the coffee table. The human was distracted by her glowing rectangle, giving me the opening I needed. I advanced on the cart. It was flimsy, but a gentle tap of my paw sent it skittering across the hardwood with a satisfying, clattering racket. Point to Pete. Next, the tools. A hair dryer, a brush, a makeup palette. I sniffed each one. They smelled of the factory they were born in, a sterile scent devoid of life or interest. I batted the tiny brush under the radiator, a strategic relocation. It would not be seen again until the next deep clean. Finally, I turned my attention to the main players. The plastic canine was my primary target. I gave it a solid whack with my paw, sending it tumbling end over end until it came to rest against a chair leg, its painted-on smile now facing the wall. A hollow, silent victory. Then, the giantess herself, "Malibu." She lay on her back where the human had left her. I prodded her arm. It was stiff, unyielding. I nudged her famous blonde hair; it was a coarse, synthetic mess, nothing like the soft, real hair I prefer to shed upon. She was useless. An immobile sentinel of mediocrity. I sat back on my haunches, tail giving a single, dismissive flick. This was no playset. It was a monument to boredom. The cart offered a fleeting moment of diversion, but the doll was a vacant shell and her plastic pet a silent mockery. This was a world without warmth, without reaction, without the thrill of the chase. I gave the scene one last, contemptuous glance before turning my back on it all. I had more pressing matters to attend to, such as staring intently at a wall and demanding dinner three hours early. Malibu and her on-set follies would have to entertain themselves.
