I'm 31. I got my Kirsten doll in 1988, so 2 years after the Pleasant Company launched. I had two friends (one actually NAMED Kirsten) who also had the Kirsten doll. We are all of Scandinavian descent so that's why we each chose that particular doll. At the time there were only the three to choose from (Kirsten, Samantha, and Molly)...I would also be interested to know the ages of the women in this article, as they seem to be quite a bit younger than me (having had the dolls that look like them, Addy, and Felicity, which were introduced in the early to mid-90s).

Despite growing up in a fairly well-off area, my friends and I each had only the one doll. My parents were reluctant to buy the expensive doll (which actually costs about the same today as it did 20 years ago unlike so many things), and initially bought me the first couple of books. After about a year of begging they finally bought me the doll. Despite my intense desire for all the pretty matching dresses and accessories, I was given only the doll clothes and only given them at special occasions. My grandfather got into the act by commissioning a bed in the same style as the one for sale from Pleasant Company from a local woodworker and rosemaling (Norwegian folk painting) artist. This was FAR more special than anything bought from a catalogue, knowing that it was one of a kind. Because I was aware how much the doll cost, and because it was so elegant, I treasured her. I think because of my parents' initial reluctance to spend $100 on a doll, she was kept special for me. She was my one treasured doll. Maybe it was just my family, but because of the cost being somewhat prohibitive, we found ways around the rampant consumerism that the women in this article talk about. I think by only allowing me the one doll, and keeping the experience special, I was somewhat shielded from the consumerism of it. It wasn't an everyday kind of thing. It was a treasure to be kept safe, not just another of many dolls.

Like one of the women in this article, Kirsten helped spark my life-long interest in history (I now have a masters degree in it). She also fed my interest in my Swedish ancestry and where my family came from. I even went so far as to have a pioneer-themed birthday party one year in a little one-room schoolhouse.

I think the key to keeping girls from the rampant consumerism of it all is doing what my parents did: make it a very special, exceptional thing for your daughters. It is a parent's job to make sure their children don't turn out spoiled; teaching them that just because it's for sale doesn't mean you can, or should, have it is an important lesson. I think that's another lesson the American Girl catalogues can teach girls.