Barbie Was My First Creative Director

The DIY Dreamhouse Years

Growing up, my creative life fully revolved around Barbie, but not in the generic, “change her outfit and go to prom” kind of way. I wasn’t just playing with dolls; I was running a full-scale, multidimensional brand. I DIY’d every set piece: furniture made from Amazon boxes, mirrors made from foil, beds made from old perfume boxes and cotton balls. Barbie had schools, laundromats, penthouses—and storylines more developed than most Netflix shows. I even gave her the biggest bedroom in the house (second only to the master). I, a real human child, voluntarily took the smaller spare room. That's how serious the production was. It wasn’t a game, it was art direction. Visual branding. Aesthetic storytelling. Everything I now do in fashion, I was already doing, just in 1:6 scale.

MyFroggyStuff & the YouTube Industrial Complex

If you know, you know: MyFroggyStuff on YouTube was elite. This was pre-Pinterest, pre-TikTok—back when everything was powered by printer paper and unhinged creativity. I was maybe nine years old learning how to make a clawfoot bathtub out of a Pringles can and hot glue. I’d sit for hours recreating tutorials, tweaking them, customizing everything to fit whatever narrative I was building that day. I wasn’t just making cute doll things, I was learning set design, photography, styling, branding, and storytelling. All without realizing it. All with zero budget. Which, let’s be honest, is still kind of the vibe in fashion.

Only Child Energy = Full Creative Control

Being an only child definitely added fuel to the fire. No one was interrupting my vision. I had complete freedom to go full-control-freak in the best way. I wasn’t just dressing dolls, I was designing their homes, planning their social dynamics, and curating each dolls own personal style. Looking back, I realize I wasn’t playing with Barbie, I was exploring different aesthetics and storylines with no boundary, Barbie was whoever I wanted her to be.

Barbie, Diane Vreeland, and the Art of Aesthetic Fantasy

Diane Vreeland once said, “The eye has to travel,” and honestly? That was me, physically moving my Barbie from one cardboard room to the next like she was on tour. Vreeland’s obsession with exaggeration, fantasy, and storytelling through style has always resonated with me. Barbie was never about realism, she was about world-building. Each outfit had intention. Each room had meaning. I was unconsciously training myself to think like a fashion editor, like a campaign director, like a brand strategist. Style was never just about what looked good, it was about the why behind it.

Why It Still Matters (And Probably Always Will)

Now, working toward a career in fashion, branding, and creative direction, I’m realizing Barbie was the blueprint. Every time I pitch a visual concept, moodboard a campaign, or obsess over fonts and lighting for a shoot, I’m just doing the same thing I did as a kid with foil mirrors and old cardboard amazon boxes turned to chairs. This isn’t just nostalgia. It’s foundational. Barbie taught me that fashion isn’t just clothes, it’s storytelling. It’s world-building. It’s taking chaos and turning it into an aesthetic that makes people feel something.

The best ideas come from the way we created as kids, before we were overthinking, before we were worried about what made sense. Barbie gave me that kind of freedom. And honestly? She’ll probably keep showing up in my work for the rest of my life.