Popular Young Adult Books Series of the 90s

Image via fantasticfiction.co.uk

What's that old saying? Why write one good book when you can milk a hundred mediocre attempts on the same premise? Something like that. So maybe it doesn't have such resonating wisdom to it, but hey, I don't have a whole team of ghostwriter underlings to do my bidding and come up with something a bit more inspired like the evil geniuses behind franchises like Sweet Valley High.

Admittedly many of our favorite series did indeed come from a single author source, though some of them pulled it off more cunningly than others. I like farfetched plot twists as much as the next person, but things sometimes had a tendency to get out of hands when authors were given the gift of infinite access to the same characters in an unlimited combination of variable situations.

Though the topics and literary value of these series varied significantly from one to the other, they were all legitimate enterprises. Publishers love series for their reliability rather than their quality, and they can certainly get away with a great deal more when dealing with younger and less discerning readers. While some of these series were well-written and twisty plot-filled, others were embarrassingly more juvenile than their intended target audience. Wherever they happen to fall on the quality spectrum, one thing was for sure: book-hungry kids ate this stuff up. Without further ado, a smattering of our most beloved and sometimes inexplicably bestselling young adult series:


Goosebumps



Children's horror series were a lucrative niche genre in the 90s. If you were so imaginatively inclined to be able to think up ridiculous tongue-in-cheek plots that wouldn't stand a chance at being made into a C movie, then you were pretty much golden. Kids went crazy for this stuff. It was sort of scary in an innocent, comical way that kept us coming back for more. Sometimes the concepts were a tad frightening, but the plots were so absurd and twist-filled that it tended to give us more head bumps than goosebumps. From all the facepalming, that is. I do distinctly remember finding the mask and that camp jellyblob thing to be a bit on the nightmare-inducing side, but then again Men in Black gave me nightmares as a kid so maybe you shouldn't take my word for it.

They also had a fair run in television form, featuring this jazzy intro with creepy glowing-eye dog:



Babysitters' Club




Tween girls were a highly desirable reader demographic in the 90s, particularly as it seemed we were pretty much willing to read anything and everything. I had a rather undying love for the girls of the babysitters' club, remaining fiercely loyal to them even in the face of their complete and total stereotypical ridiculousness. These girls were not exactly three dimensional. They essentially taught me that I could be one of a few character molds: the brassy tomboy, the diabetic fashion model, the California hippie, the shy one, the defiant artistic anti-intellectual Asian one, the nerd, or the black ballerina. I was pretty sure these were my only viable life choice paths once I hit middle school.

The BSC was franchising at its finest, featuring all sorts of additional merchandise, a feature film, and a television series with a theme song that my college friends may or may not have included on a road trip mix. I'll give you a hint: they did.

I owned all of these individual episodes on VHS ordered through the magic of Scholastic book orders. I'll give you a moment to calm your jealousy.

Animorphs



Under closer inspection, it seems that 80s and 90s teen series fell into one of two categories: bitchy preteen girls with growing-up type problems or over-the-top science fiction/horror. That is to say, either incredibly girly or with gory details to appeal to a male demographic. Animorphs fell more into the latter category with its characterization of a group of preteens who had the ability to change into animals in their efforts to quash a secret alien rebel force. Yep, these disgusting outer-space slugs would shimmy into your ear canal and turn you into an alien zombie, but luckily we've got a couple of kids on our side who can morph into housecats.

Animorphs was also granted a short run as a Nickelodeon series:




Fear Street


What happens to kids when they graduate from Goosebumps? They move on to Fear Street, of course. Goosebumps author RL Stine aged his characters a couple of years, threw in some particularly gory scenes, and made brutal murder an inevitable and unavoidable aspect of any plot. Sounds fun, right? The series is loosely tied together in the same way Goosebumps books were, rarely featuring the same characters but rehashing the same themes book after book. It's tough to say whether these would hold tight with today's kids--if anything, they'd have to suffice as the poor man's Twilight. I'm not too ashamed to admit I had RL Stine sign my well-thumbed copy of Fear Street: The New Girl at a Mall of America booksigning. I did, however, soon thereafter realize I have no patience for mysteries. Sorry, RL.



Sweet Valley High




These were pretty much my bible growing up, so you can only imagine how shocked I was to find out as an adult just how god-awful they really are. I mean honestly. Jessica and Elizabeth Wakefield were nothing short of my idols as a kid, and now I hear that they're actually insufferable? Who was I to know? I was so entranced and drawn in by the ghostwriters' incredibly repetitive rehashing of their blonde hair, blue-green eyes, California good looks, and perfect size-six figures that I was blinded to the ridiculousness that was their overblown stereotypes of personalities. Jessica (also known as the cool one) was essentially the worst person in the world and Elizabeth (the smart one) made Pollyanna look like Al Capone. And I also learned a valuable lesson: you can tell popular people from nerdy brainiacs by the way they wear their hair. A ponytail is a dead giveaway for being the nerdy twin.

Though these books veered into some pretty outlandish directions (vampires, werewolves, viscount boyfriends), they did manage to keep it toned down for the brief run of the TV-series, which focused mainly on their regular Sweet Valley lives.

I always thought the twins who played the girls on TV were way too slutty-looking to be Jess and Liz. Either way, I totally owned a Sweet Valley High board game and had full collections of Sweet Valley Kids, Sweet Valley Twins, Sweet Valley High, and Sweet Valley University. I imagine that my family singlehandedly supported Francise Pascal's enterprise.

Harry Potter


I will no doubt have to better explore Harry Potter in its own full post as it's a legitimate phenomenon in a way few of these others are. I'm also willing to give credit where credit is due and concede the books are far better written and well-conceived than any of the others on this list. In short, Harry Potter made being nerdy cool in its own way. The content was undeniably fantastical and imaginative in a manner compatible with extreme geekiness, yet everyone seemed enthralled by them. Perhaps in the way media like Star Wars gave geeks an outlet of kind of cool make-believe people to admire, Harry Potter managed to simulataneously win readers with nerds and well, everyone else. You'd be pretty hard-pressed to find someone who hasn't at least read one of these books.

Harry Potter is the ultimate money-making franchise, far outliving its rival book series peers. The big-budget fantasy adventure film adaptations don't fare too poorly, either:





Help! I'm Trapped...



Did you know that you can write 16, count 'em, 16 books that have titles beginning with "Help! I'm Trapped in (insert entrapment device or body here)"? Because you totally can. Todd Strasser made a healthy living off of doing just that, trapping our pals in everything from their teachers' bodies to the first day of doggie obedience school. Actually, we got to go to obedience school twice, so I'm somewhat suspicious that he just ran out of ideas.


By the by, it wouldn't hurt to check out some of these young adult book blogs if the YA series dosage in this post didn't quell your 90s YA book withdrawal. Enjoy!

Dibbly Fresh
Shannon's Sweet Valley Blog
Are You There Youth? It's Me, Nikki

Is It Fall Yet?

Let me apologize for not having your daily dose of 90s in order per usual this morning. You see, in some sort of unforeseen* meteorological turn of events, my internet connection experienced some severe disturbances during peak blogging time. After my ever-helpful boyfriend spent extensive time proxy online live-chatting with the none-so-helpful Alvaro of Time Warner Cable, it was clear that you were just not going to get the incredibly outstanding post I'd originally planned on researching for lack of sufficient connectivity.

That is to say, I was this close to promising to name my firstborn Alvaro if only he would have reinstated my beloved interweb. Unfortunately, Alvaro did no such thing in saving me from certain cable outage. I was forced to shake my fist despairingly heavenward and intone "ALVARO!" Alvin and the Chipmunks style. My boyfriend (again, very helpfully) proceeded to play me the Alvin and the Chipmunks Christmas song over the phone while I waited for the reports back on Alvaro's snail-like progress, but that's really here nor there.

Where was I? Oh yes, excuses. So, that fabulously insightful post will have to wait, and I will leave you will a solid dose of 90s to get you through your weekend. This was what I'd brilliantly thought to post on Labor Day, only to spend the whole day being neglectful and vacation-prone and sending myself into successive barbecue food comas. Hence, you lucky so-and-sos get a shot at it today. I know, I know. You're welcome.

Via the magic of embeddable playlists, here is the full Daria inter-season movie Is It Fall Yet**? It seems very appropriate as we bid our summers adieu, plus it's one of my favorites here at Children of the 90s. Ask anyone who's been reading a few months and they'll assure you that it's in my secret plan to faithfully spread the gospel of Daria to all those who know not her truth and wisdom. Let me speak to you seriously here for a moment: it's one of the smartest shows to ever air, period, not to mention the most sage teen or cartoon series. Please, proceed with caution, as your watching this will hopefully lead to a lifelong relationship soon to be satiated by the supposedly impending DVD release.






Have a great weekend, 90s kids!


*Unforeseen by me, not by actual meteorologists. No, I'm sure those green-screen facing smug bastards knew all along.
**In this case, the unfortunately correct answer is yes, yes it is

Overalls

Nothing says en vogue quite like sporting the functional farmer wear du jour. To their credit, overalls did have a certain degree of versatility in the 90s: you had your traditional denim pair and then a few snazzier ones for special occasions. You know, like goat milking.

Overalls inexplicably became a 90s must-have fashion item, prompting suburban kids who had never so much as visited a farm to covet these godforsaken garments. When I was in fourth grade, there was a style decree that on Thursdays, everyone wore overalls. It was sort of our elementary school version of Mean Girls' "On Wednesdays we wear pink". Anyone who was anyone in the fourth grade sure as hell better have showed up to school in overalls on Thursdays. Everyone knew that.

There were all sorts of fun self-expressing variations in overalls. Many 90s kids opted for the very popular one-strap-fastened-one-strap-unfastened look. It kind of said, sure, I like shoveling manure, but only sometimes. There was really no verifiable explanation for engaging in this half-fastened overall behavior as it served no functional purpose. If anything, it was pretty inconvenient to have a strap with an attached eye-piercing piece of metal swinging around your person all day.

My overall-wearing hero, a Miss Alex Mack.

If that wasn't for you, we had a little something for the ladies too. Overalls and sexiness may seem like two highly disparate concepts, but it was all in the shirt selection. If you were planning on wearing a shirt, that is. I got into many, many heated fights with my parents regarding the appropriateness of my wearing a lacy midriff-exposing tee shirt under my Gap overalls. If Kelly Kapowski could do it, then dammit why couldn't I? They've yet to give me a sufficient explanation for that one.

I tried to convince them that it could have been much, much, worse. There were girls up at the junior high showing up to school wearing just overalls and a smile. Okay, that's a total lie, those girls were more than likely surly as hell in their near-naked overalled state, but that's really neither here nor there.

Looking back on this picture of Winona Ryder's near nakedness, I can sort of understand my parents' point of view. I do admire her strap-twisting prowess, though.

Then of course we had the overall/flannel combo, a particular 90s fan favorite. There were many permutations on this highly versatile look, one of the most popular being the classic open-plaid-flannel-over-overalls look. It had a certain casual flair to it that we could all only aspire to achieve as child stylistas. Somewhat less body-flattering but equally widespread was the flannel tied around the waist of overalls look. If you had belt loops on your pair, you could even spice it up a bit and do some intricate woven work. Fancy stuff.

Or if you were into a little more pseudo-rebellion, the double unhooked look was also quite the rage. You may ask yourself why you'd choose to wear overalls if you didn't plan on utilizing their basic functionality, and you would most certainly be right to question this blatant idiocy. In fact, it would be much more convenient to simply don some sportswear separates, but these 90s kids just weren't having it. No, we'd throw on a belt to hold those babies up. No shame in that. Okay, a little shame. Alright, alright, loads of shame.

This particular style of overall wearing was a bit on the controversial side as it allegedly suggested gang affiliation. Indeed, it is still classified as such by many school districts. The Texas Youth Commission still defines the wearing "Overalls, unfastened" as potentially inflammatory behavior. I know, right. They helpfully explain the implications of gang wear as such:

The "gang look" is meant to intimidate those who are not in a gang. Children and teenagers who dress in clothing that resembles gang attire are showing an interest in gangs, will attract the attention of gangs, and could be putting themselves in extreme danger. In recent years children have been shot and killed by gangs simply for wearing gang related clothing. For the safety of your children, it is very important that you do not buy or allow your children to wear any item that gang members use to identify with the gang.

Okay, Okay, so this is a Harajuku girl and not a gang member...but look at how her overalls conveniently only have a single strap! They've evolved!

I'll agree with them that anyone killed for unintentionally wearing gang-themed clothing represents a terrible tragedy, but the tone of this is just absurd. If we thought authority figures were uncool in our day, it seems they've only tightened their grip with all sorts of new rules and regulations that were still in their larval stage during our formative years. It's all vaguely reminiscent of The Man trying to relate to young people but failing completely. It also brings to mind Daria's father Jake Morgendorffer, who once famously said, "I'm up on the issues. Is it a problem with your gang?"

No matter just how jiggy adults tried to be with our phat style, it seemed their condemnation only edged us further into the expanse of dangerous attire wearing. Many of the young people who so loved overalls had more or less never even heard of gangs, they just bought what The Gap told them to and that was that. And if The Gap told me to wear I've-been-working-on-the-railroad style pinstriped overalls, well, thus so it shall be.

Full House

Sometimes you sort of have to wish your real life was anything like the TV shows you grew up with. After all, it's pretty tough to pinpoint those social and nonverbal cues of learning a moral lesson in our own lives. It's so much easier when they put in slow, thoughtful theme music to punctuate the moment exactly five minutes before the end of a thirty minute episode arc. Without those clear-cut auditory guidelines, how are we ever supposed to know when we're gaining moral aptitude? We don't even have a live studio audience to awww for us.

Yes, Full House had the eleventh hour moral-of-the-story moment down to a near-perfect science. It was good, wholesome fun at its finest. Though some of the characters may have briefly flirted with unseemly behavior, their nanosecond-long foray into rebellion was always conveniently quelled by the end of the episode. All a character had to do was consider making a mistake and there was a sturdy trustworthy authority figure at their service to swoop in and give them a bit o' wisdom. Its simplicity was reassuring at the very least; no matter how close anyone veered toward making a poor life choice, it was inevitable that by the end of the episode, the slate would once again be wiped clean.

Though certainly a bit on the hackneyed side, the show was ripe with charm. The premise gave us a wealth of quirky characters, allowing plot lines to shift amongst many key players. We had our hero, squeaky-clean and distinctly un-Bob Sagetlike Danny Tanner, a widower with three young girls to raise. It was all sort of Brady Bunch-esque, only instead of Danny bringing in another half family for reinforcement, he supplemented his parenting skills with two live-in father stand-ins. Yes, that's right: three men raising three little girls. I know, I know. I'll give you a moment to compose yourself as the shock wears off.

This clip from the first episode does a lot of explaining and blank filling-in on major plot points, so I'll let it speak for itself. It also for some reason features Dutch subtitles. Don't ask me why.



In the first episode, we get our first glimpses of a bemulleted Uncle Jesse (John Stamos) and wacky Hawaiian shirt-sporting sidekick Uncle Joey (Dave Coulier). That's right, we've got an OCD talk show host, a struggling rock musician, and a stand-up comedian raising these girls. Can you say hilarious antics? If you can't, maybe you should stick with those Dutch subtitles.

Like any long-running family sitcom, the young stars literally grew up onscreen. I don't know about you, but I'm not sure I'd like my awkward phase forever preserved in TV history for posterity. Just ask Candace Cameron. Sure, she's a knockout now, but we all got to watch her chubby-cheeked side-ponytailed adolescence unfold. Jodie Sweetin, on the other hand, started young enough that she was still adorable when the show began but got to live out her bang-haired preteen years in front of millions. If anything, Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen seriously lucked out. Those monkey-faced little babies remarkably morphed into cute little girls. It was a pretty close call there for awhile in their diaper days.

Seriously, observe this Michelle montage. Would you ever believe these girls could become homeless people style icons and straight-to-video media moguls? Me neither.

As you can imagine, all sorts of hilarious hijinks ensued as these three clueless men tried to bring up three growing girls. The wide array of character personalities and ages allowed us a never-ending supply of varied storylines. We had typical parenting dilemmas, dating antics, sibling rivalries, first days of school, peer pressure, growing-up issues, and every sort of minor moral dilemma you can conjure. The best part of the show was that no one ever seemed to get into any real trouble. They tended to hover dangerously close to temptation only to be quickly reeled in by their dependable family. The formula never failed.

DJ and Stephanie's first day of school in the first season showcases some of the clean-fun shenanigans that characterized this extremely full house.

With the inception of the TGIF Friday night lineup in the late 80s, Full House carved out a great time slot for itself that was conducive to family viewing. The show had not initially been a runaway success, but its new timeslot brought with it a serious following of fans. Suddenly, people couldn't get enough of this show. And could you blame them? It had something for everyone.

For young women ages 12-25, we had John Stamos. For people who liked unfunny stand-up, cut-rate cartoon impressions, and had a lurking interest in seeing about whom Alanis Morisette wrote "You Outta Know", we had Dave Coulier. For anyone seeking out a guiding moral light, we had Bob Saget. Well, Danny Tanner, that is. If you've ever seen any Bob Saget stand-up it's pretty clear that isn't the case for his real life persona.

For the kids we had three distinct age groups of characters with whom to relate as girls and to fall in love with as boys. I personally fell within the Michelle age range category and almost immediately found myself knee-deep in Mary Kate and Ashley promotional merchandise and "Brother for Sale" cassette tapes. I grew up jealous that their everyday lives were an adventure full of strange but endearing adult role models. I'm pretty sure I was not alone in coveting all of Rebecca Donaldson's swingy vests and flowered housedresses, either. I figured it was only a matter of time before I somehow manuevered Becky out of the picture and could claim my rightful place in the Katsopolis family and corresponding closet.

Regardless of my own Full House plotting, the most satisfying part to me remained the predictability. No matter what happened, unless it was a two-part episode you just knew that sappy music was coming on at 7:25. It didn't matter whether they were trying to cook Thanksgiving dinner or taking a trip to Hawaii, by the end of it we were going to learn something and that was that. The characters were flawed in simple, easily remediable ways that lent themselves well to 30 minute segments.

No one ever took hard drugs or committed a felony. There was no danger of taking a sharp left into dangerous territory. It was more like DJ secretly applying Madonna-grade makeup to fit in in junior high, only to learn a lesson about growing up at your own pace. If you weren't feeling even the slightest urge to "aww", you probably weren't watching it right.

Just in case you were curious, here's the aforementioned DJ makeup snafu.

Can't Hardly Wait

What would 80s or 90s mainstream cinema have been without the classic cliche high school movie? It seemed that another teen-centric comedy premiered every other week, each one more ripe with angsty teenage stereotypes than the last. Critics may not have thought much of the genre, but tweens and teens ate it up, upholding the franchise by not just seeing the movie but by buying the soundtrack and quoting the most inane lines over and over again to their friends.

Anyone who's ever been, met, or even seen a teen from afar can tell you that teen movies are absolutely nothing like real life in high school, but they do make for an amusing story. High school movies represent not the way things are but the way we might wish they were. If we desired a slew of 28-year old classmates, that is.

Can't Hardly Wait was a mishmash of every well-worn teen movie cliche, giving us the ultimate cross-section of clearly defined high school cliques as perceived by the middle-aged adults who make profitable teen movies. It's as if they took VHS copies of every John Hughes film ever made, put them in a blender, and minced it on the highest setting. All of the most prevalent teen movie tropes were there: unrequited love with the unattainable girl, revenge of the nerds, reconciliation of friends torn apart by cliquishness, and of course all the jocks, brains, and class clowns you can handle.

Wow, two Third Eye Blind songs in a single trailer. Well played, Columbia Pictures

The only real unique attribute of the movie is its setting and scope: it takes place within a single evening at an end-of-the-school-year graduation party. Flashbacks and awkward staged recap conversations fill in some of the blanks on the context front, but the main focus of the movie is the party. Magically, the whole class got invited to this party, despite the fact that some are obvious misfits or miscreants who have never socialized with the normal kids.

The major storyline of the movie surrounds Preston (Ethan Embry) and his pathetic-but-sort-of-endearing puppy dog crush on popular girl Amanda (Jennifer Love Hewitt). Amanda has been freed from her football player dating chains of her entire high school career, and Preston believes it to be fate. It's kind of cute that he thinks this huge blowout party would be the perfect setting at which to profess his undying love despite the fact that he's never spoken to her. He does, however, seem to have a database of arbitrary memories of their near-miss encounters throughout high school. I'm sorry, did I say cute? I meant creepy.

Don't you like the way the filmmakers assume we're all really slow readers when they put those yearbook-style info boxes up on the screen.

Meanwhile, our wannabe gangster pal Kenny (Seth Green) vows to lose his virginity that night in classic American Pie ultimatum fashion. Kenny prefers to be called "Special K" which we can only assume is his non-Caucasian alter ego. There's really no alternative legitimate explanation for his faux-ghetto dialect, especially considering he's an upper middle class white boy who hails from suburbia central. He adopts this affectation as his allegedly cool persona, but overall it's pretty painful to endure.



On the other end of the social spectrum, nerd William (Charlie Korsmo) and his pi-reciting lackeys are out to bruise the ego and reputation of big man on campus and Amanda's former flame Mike Dexter (Peter Facinelli). Unfortunately, his intricate revenge plans are thwarted by his own intoxication at the party. In this-never-happens-in-real-life-but-we'll-go-along-with-it-for-a-movie style, William becomes the belle of the ball, even gracing us with an impromptu Guns and Roses performance. Because that's a good wholesome message for kids. If you would only loosen up and drink a bit, you'll be cool. Who says teen movies don't have important moral lessons?



Finally, Preston's friend and confidante Denise (Lauren Ambrose) comes along grudgingly for moral support and ends up in a worst-nightmare situation: locked in a bathroom with Special K himself. We learn Denise and Kenny were best friends as children until he got too cool and ditched her. Burn. Ditched by a guy who wears goggles as a fashion statement. That's got to hurt. Anyway, one thing leads to another, and they end up having sex. Like people do, you know. It's pretty much the only option.





All sorts of other crazy shenanigans ensue, shananigany enough to include Amanda getting hit on a by her overly-hormonal cousin. Yikes. Amanda discovers the much-revised Preston love declaration letter on the ground. She has no clue who she is so she looks him up in the yearbook only to realize you totally blew him off just moments before. Amanda pulls a classic rush-to-meet-your-love-right-before-they-leave-forever moment by rushing to the train station, and it's pretty much happily ever after from there on out. We get a little "where are they now?" snippet at the end, and it seems everything worked out just peachily for the good guys and the bad guys got all sorts of comeuppance.

So it may not be the most realistic depiction of high school, but it's certainly an entertaining one. After all, there's a reason they don't make movies about real live high schoolers. They're just not that interesting. Plus, we get a kickass 90s soundtrack in this version, whereas real high schoolers are generally lacking in the theme music department. Show me a real high school student whose exploits are well-timed to Smash Mouth and Run DMC and then we'll talk. s

Controversial and/or Poorly Conceived Toys of the 80s and 90s

Okay, so maybe nowadays kids are driving in their Power Wheels Escalades and undressing their scantily clad Dallas Cheerleader Barbies and the once-maligned toys of the past seem a bit tame. Back in the 80s and 90s, though, these were more than enough to cause a fuss for one reason or other. Be it safety, content, or just good old fashioned blinding strong moral disapproval, parents and watchdog groups were quick to lash out against some of these negligently thought-out toy releases.

We all know some parents tend to be highly overprotective of their children, and in some of these cases their worries seem a bit over-the-top. In others, however, they're pretty damn well-founded. I'm not exactly sure how so many of these toys got past the quality control teams, but a lot of them are frighteningly dangerous. I can only speak for myself, but I generally prefer my toys not to pierce a cornea or eat my hair to the point of skull-rattling. Then again, maybe that's just me.



Teen Talk Barbie


We all know Barbie may not be the most progressive feminist icon of our time, but come on. If you're working at Mattel in the 90s, you should probably at least have an inkling that there are some phrases your doll should never utter.

It's not so much that the doll's lines were filthy and inappropriate but rather insanely stupid. Whoever wrote these lines no doubt had a serious facepalm moment the second these hit the stores. Some of our fave doll's signature lines included:

"Math is tough!"
'"Let's go shopping!"
"Will we ever have enough clothes?"

It doesn't take a brilliant social commentator (though I'm willing to step up regardless) to see that those lines in succession are essentially product suicide. Angry parent complaints poured in, and the doll's phrases were quickly reduced from 269 to a mere 4. Guess she had a lot of inappropriate things to say. Whatever, Mattel. You can give her a wheelchair and a computer, but we know your true intentions.



Snacktime Cabbage Patch Kids



These dolls were pretty perplexing on concept alone. You're telling me I feed my dolly, and the food goes right through her into her backpack? What does she have, some sort of carrier bag form of IBS? It's confusing enough without the added elements of danger and surprise that no doubt came later.

Kids adored these toys. So much so that they wanted to lean in and show affection for their dolls, at which point the doll would mercilessly begin chomping on their long hair to the point of no return. It wasn't much of a consolation that you could find it in the backpack afterward, I'll tell you that much. Fingers made some tasty snacks, as well. I'm sure Mattel thought they were pretty crafty for not including an on/off switch but rather using a simple censor to enable chewing. That is, until you COULD NOT STOP THE DOLL FROM EATING YOUR HAIR. Enough said. Let's move on.



Talking Freddy Krueger Doll




Kids love horror films, right? I mean, who better than young kids to watch terrifying tales sure to induce scary dreams and night terrors for years to come? I know if I were a parent in the late 80s, I would have just loved for my kids to see Nightmare on Elm Street and also own some corresponding promotional merchandise. Aside from the fact that I'm still afraid of the movie myself, that is.

According to this no-doubt highly verifiable ad I found on Craig's List for one of these dolls, the pull-string mechanism gives us six friendly phrases: Hi, I'm Freddy, Welcome To Elm Street, Watch Out Freddy's Back, Lets Be Friends, Pleasant Dreams, Ha Ha Ha Ha!

That sounds. Awful. Seriously. Just, frightening. You know, like the kind of thing I'd like to sleep with in my room so it can kill me in the night.



Garbage Pail Kids

I couldn't find an ad for these babies, so here's a lovely youtube compilation of the cards set to angry music. Enjoy!

Let it be known that I actually was a pretty big fan of the mid-80s Garbage Pail Kids. My parents, however, were notably less keen. This Topps line was a clear parody of the Cabbage Patch Kids, one so obvious that it led to inevitable toy company lawsuits. More interestingly, the line was conceived by Art Spiegelman, Pullitzer Prize winning cartoonist of the Holocaust-themed Maus comics. Wait, what? I mean, I love Maus, it's very moving, but...what? Really?

Garbage Pail Kids were trading cards depicting disgusting and allegedly offensive characters. These winners including Valerie Vomit, Adam Bomb, and Foul Phil, all starred in their own trading card complete with stomach-turning illustration. Kids delighted in them, but adults were less than convinced of their trade value. They were quickly banned from schools and parents complained about content in droves. That did not, however, stop Topps from coming out with a movie and a cartoon. Long live the franchise!



Lawn Darts (jarts)



Who doesn't love a fun afternoon of outdoor games with their families? Well, probably the over 6000 people injured by lawn darts could stand to live without it. Or who knows, maybe they can't stand. Or live, for that matter.

Damn Jarts. They seemed like such a good idea at the time. Who doesn't love throwing a sharp metal object at top speed toward their opponent? Sounds pretty win-win to me.

The real issue was that these things stuck to everything. The CPSC warned following a recall that "Lawn darts can cause skull punctures and other serious injuries. CPSC urges consumers to discard or destroy all lawn darts immediately. They should not be given away since they may be of harm to others." Ouch. Skull punctures. It's hard to believe that thousands were injured and a few killed before this product was taken from the shelves. It was kind of fun, though. You have to admit. If you lived, of course.


Hopefully next time you're designing a toy to embrace sexism to puncture eyelids, you'll remember some of these mistakes of the past and at least add some sort of warning or disclaimer to the packaging. Yes, these ideas were generally ridiculous, but many managed to grab media attention by being incredibly popular. It doesn't matter if a toy may kill you or distort your sense of morality, sometimes you've just got to have it. I'm only hoping it did not include a Cabbage Patch Snacktime Sweeney Todd style haircut.

Songs We Totally Did Not Understand As Children

Ah, the age of musical innocence. Back when we could spend hours recording mix tapes of songs off the radio and blasting them at full volume in our rooms from our then top-of-the-line boom boxes, never once giving a second thought to a song's deeper meaning. In all truth, song lyrics mean very little to children. At best they're just a bunch of filler words to get us through to the next catchy chorus or bridge. Sure, they were helpful to learn for singing-along purposes and to look cool in front of our friends for knowing all of the words, but as a concept they seemed pretty arbitrary.

Yes, naivete is a magical thing. For a finite but glorious period of time, we as children all got to bask in glow of our misunderstanding of safeguarded, unexplained thinly-veiled references to all sorts of inappropriate content. That's one of the most wonderful things about children. They're always more than happy to accept something at face value. Why should anything have a deeper meaning, or even a meaning at all? Songs existed solely for our enjoyment and were in no way infiltrated with all sorts of subliminal smut. Or so we unsuspectingly assumed, that is.

Though the list is far from complete, here's a choice selection of 90s* songs that we all no doubt bopped around to at one point or other without giving a second thought to its less than kid-friendly content:


Cherry Pie

Warrant - Cherry pie
by krematoria

If ever a song was written specifically for the purpose of having dead-eyed strippers gyrate shamefully to its beat for years to come, it was Warrant's Cherry Pie. As a child, it was sort of like, hey, what a catchy melody! And I love desserts! Who doesn't love desserts? Yum! It seemed like a no-brainer.

The metaphors in the song aren't even trying. I mean, it's about as up front as you can get without explicitly whipping out a diagram of the female anatomy and using a laser pointer to highlight its finer points. I'll spare you the gorier details, but suffice it to say that if you can't catch the references as an adult then it's likely you've lived a clean bubble-bound existence. Congratulations.



New Age Girl (Mary Moon)

Featuring clips from Dumb and Dumber! Can you get any better than that?

At the time, I was pretty fooled into thinking this song was educational. After all, it taught me the word septuagenarians. That's got to count for something, doesn't it? And it was in Dumb and Dumber, cementing its status in my mind as a work of pure mindless entertainment

For those of you who haven't heard the song in ages, the chorus goes a little something like this:

Mary Moon, she's a vegetarian
Mary Moon, Mary Moon, Mary Moon
Mary Moon will outlive all the septuagenarians
Oh she loves me so, she hates to be alone
She don't eat meat but she sure like the bone

Is that bolding too subtle for you? I could add colors or maybe animated fireworks if that would help. We used to sing this song on the playground, for God's sake. Where was the adult in this situation to tell us it's not exactly good form to scream out, "She sure likes the bone"? Who were we to know?



Waterfalls



I don't know about all of you 90s kids, but TLC's CrazySexyCool was one of those CDs I played on repeat for oh, I don't know, about two years. I loved TLC. Or at least I thought I did. I really dug "Waterfalls". I mean, really. Everyone loves a natural scenic vista, no?

Apparently not. All this time we're thinking they're singing about some lovely water-rushing scenery, they're really giving us a message about the dangers of drugs and unsafe sex. I know, I know, I didn't get it either. Obviously I never saw the above uncut version of the video.

They were pretty sneaky about it., too Those 3 letters that took him to his final resting place? HIV. If I had known or remotely understood the context, I probably would have spent a good deal less time dancing around carefreely to the song. My bad.


Little Red Corvette

Little Red Corvette


Oh, Prince, you naughty, naughty Shetland pony of a man. How can you give us a song that seems on the surface to be about a cute little sports car but is actually suggesting to us all sorts of hoo-ha references? When he said he wanted to tame my little red love machine, I thought he wanted to do a little tuning up under the hood. I mean, give me an all-over inspection. Dammit, are there any car processes that don't sound chock full of innuendo? I've got it! He's going to change my transmission fluid. Wait a minute...




Brick

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Don't hate me for selecting the pop-up version of this video. I know it diminishes the emotionality...that's why I like it. Thank you for your understanding.

This was one of those songs that was hauntingly beautiful in a way that should have been suspicious enough to tip us off, but more often than not failed to warn us of the serious adult-themed content. Ben Folds Five was famous for putting out quirky, silly music, so there's really no way we could have known even on the off chance that we were legitimate child fans.

Sometime in college after I hadn't heard the song in ages I suddenly remembered it, downloaded it, listened, and immediately felt an unquenchable urge to sob for an indeterminate period of time. I didn't know. In case you didn't either, the song is about an abortion. The song is incredibly heartwrenching. As a kid, I thought, wow, what a pretty song. Listen, there's some piano. Hey, why is everyone crying...?




Semi-Charmed Life



I'm not embarrassed to admit I'm still a loyal Third Eye Blind fan. I went to see them way back in eighth grade and then again this past year when they premiered Ursa Major at South by Southwest, and I have to say I'm still feeling it ten years later. Semi-Charmed life, was, without a doubt, one of my favorite songs as a kid. It was catchy, it was uptempo, and it was sort of fun to see if I could keep up with singing along to the warp-speed lyrics.

Until I bought the CD, the edited version I recorded off the radio said "Dkjadcjkajdflkd will lift you up until you break". On the CD, however, I found those suspicious jumbled words to be "doing crystal meth will lift you up until you break". Which still meant absolutely nothing to me. I was a kid. What did I know from drugs? I just liked the part that went doot-doot-doot-doot-do-do-do-doot. My mistake. Whatever. I still like it.


It's totally possible that many of you were better informed children than I was, but it's a lot more likely that you were scratching your heads right along with me. I prefer to remember these song they way they were in my mind's eye, though--simple, innocent, and made expressly for my appropriate musical enjoyment.



*I know Little Red Corvette came out in the early 80s but you need to understand I sort of have a thing for Prince. We're both from Minnesota, and anyone from Minnesota knows of and fervently loves Minnesotan celebrity. It's in our rule book. It comes right before the pronunciation guide for "Dontcha know?"

Clarissa Explains It All

Nowadays, marketing to the tween demographic is a no-brainer. Networks like the Disney Channel make a large chunk of their profits off a tween audience, and it's become generally good entertainment market practice to appeal to the eight-to-twelve set. Back in the early 90s, however, there had yet to be a major leap in marketing to preadolescents. There was a wealth of children's programming and teen-programming, but very little in the way of in beTween.

Nickelodeon was pretty pioneering in Tween entertainment, particularly with its popular sitcom Clarissa Explains It All. Clarissa Explains It All featured a star who was conveniently on the younger age of her teenage years, allowing the network to promote the program to teens and tweens alike.

Though the show confronted teen issues, it didn't do it in the Very Special Episode style so popular with contemporary family sitcoms. The stories were told through the lens of Clarissa's quirky and ironic personality, with a whole bunch of ridiculously awesome 90s fashion risks* thrown into the mix.

The show also featured an outstandingly catchy theme by Rachel Sweet, whose incessant na-na-na-nana-ing punctuated with well-timed "alright, alrights" and "hey cools" made it difficult not to want to at least hum along.



At the time I remember the incredible fervor with which I coveted her outfit in the opening sequence, though in retrospect it's a tad bit trampy. I had innumerable arguments with my mother about midriff shirts, as no doubt many young 90s girls across the country were having with their respective parents.

Here our parents were, thinking Nickelodeon was wholesome programming, all while its subliminally encouraging us to go seeking Clarissa-grade streetwalker boots, tights, and miniskirt combos. In all fairness, I still think she totally rocks it, so I suppose its moderate sluttiness is excusable.

Clarissa was famous for breaking the fourth wall with a frequency that would make Zack Morris blush. This wasn't an occasional wink or nod to the audience, she went all the way with Ferris Bueller-grade audience-directed monologues. It was almost as if she were just some friend of ours who happened to live in our television set. She was funny, she was honest, and most of all, she was an individual in every sense of the word.

From the very beginning, Melissa Joan Heart gave Clarissa that X factor of immediate likability. Watch her introduce herself in this segment of the first episode and just try not to think she's just a little bit cool. It's nearly impossible.



The first episode was a bit risque in terms of thematic content as it centered around Clarissa's plot to eliminate her irritating little brother. It doesn't exactly sound like the stuff great kids' programming is made of, but it managed to pull it off in a lighthearted and comic enough way to make it work and sufficiently endear her to us as a character.

We see many of the recurring gimmicks in the first episode, showing just how well-developed the series was upon its inception. The show made use of all sorts of visual aids that would handily appear in the right-hand corner of our screen, later the basis of CNN--the Clarissa News Network. She has a miniature alligator named elvis that lives in a sandbox in her room, and her best friend Sam stops by via a ladder hooked to her second-floor window. There were flashbacks and musical cues. It all flowed together nicely, creating an original work of kid-driven entertainment.

What I wouldn't give for a little headline image to come up alongside me as I address the audience directly.

The show was smart and fast-paced, and it talked to kids rather than at them. Sure, there were some hints of what is considered right or wrong, but it wasn't shoved down our throats After-School Special Style. This wasn't Full House or even Saved By the Bell. It wasn't about learning lessons, it was about commiserating with a preteen-to-teen-age character who was going through all the same things we were.

We'd all suffered her humiliations and dealt with similar growing-up traumas. Clarissa was a role model without being a Pollyanna. She wasn't necessarily who our parents would pick to guide us, and that's a lot of what we liked about her. She's who we would have chosen, after all.

It's also notable that Clarissa was among the first Nickelodeon female leads. It's nearly unthinkable in the days of Hannah Montana and its ilk that children's networks didn't see young girls as a legitimately targetable demographic, but in the early 90s it was still all shiny and new. Clarissa wasn't much of a girly girl, allowing her to appeal fairly well to both genders.

Clarissa totally had the best 90s style. Keith Haring t-shirt, open graphic neon button down, and coordinating scrunchie perched right at the top of her head. Pure 90s perfection.

Clarissa fakes sick to avoid a school play, laments being forced to wear an uncool outfit on picture day, yearns for her driver's license: in short, we didn't have to love her because she was extraordinary, but more because she was ordinary. For once, the networks had gotten it right and put one of our own kind out there saying the things that we say, doing the things we do, and being annoyed by the things that annoy us too. She was like a cooler version of our preteen selves. After all, she had her own theme song and news network; we couldn't exactly compete with that.




*Am I the only one who automatically associates the phrase "fashion risk" with the movie Girls Just Wanna Have Fun? It just makes me want to say, "You're taking a fashion risk, I like that. Just don't do it on TV." Anyone? Anyone? Just me? Okay then.

The Macarena

Image via atomicballroom.com

Fourteen weeks. Fourteen weeks. That's how long the Macarena held the top spot on the Billboard music charts. Fourteen weeks. That's three and a half months of non-stop Latin-beat line dancing. Not only was the song number one, it was everywhere. It was like an airborne contagion, only with a whole lot more butt-shaking. Weddings, bar mitzvahs, middle school dances; you name the venue, people were out there Macarena-ing their hearts out. They didn't care what the words were or where it came from. Most of them were just grateful to have pre-choreographed moves.

As far as dance crazes go, the Macarena verged on phenomenon status. It swept through the country and the world, though no one seems to know just how it got so popular or how everyone learned the dance. In an age before everyone had high-speed internet, every person between the ages of 5 and 95 seemed to have the Macarena down pat. Never mind that nowadays people have to watch step-by-step how-to videos on how to do the Soulja Boy dance on YouTube at least ten times before getting it down pat. Back in the 90s, dance trends may have been infectious, but they didn't spread virally.



Most of us can't pinpoint exactly when or where or how we learned it, we just all miraculously knew the appropriate times to jump a 180 degree turn counterclockwise in unison. There was something strangely hypnotizing about its repetitiveness. We know longer had to fear the dance floor, wondering when the appropriate moment was to switch from the shopping cart to the lawn mower. We just simply did the exact same routine over and over and over again. It was a relatively foolproof system, though limited skill dancers admittedly may have struggled a bit awkwardly with the pelvic swivels.

It all started way back in 1992 when Los del Rio unleashed their insanely catchy song onto a crowd of unsuspecting VIP Venezuelans. Though the song went through all sorts of tweaks and changes before turning into the dance craze we recognize today, it was that tiny spark of interest that launched a million hip swivels. The original was of course in full Spanish, with, well, interesting lyrics to say the least. That is, the lyrics were completely strange. Just totally, utterly, derangedly odd.

The original Spanish version went a little something like this. Okay, okay, exactly like this:




For those of you out there who do not speak Spanish (myself included), fear not. With the help of the trusty (well, kind of trusty) interwebs, I have tracked down what I can only assume to be an accurate translation. Correct me if I'm wrong, but here goes:


Give your body pleasure, Macarena
Because your body is for giving it pleasure and good things
Give your body pleasure, Macarena
Ehhhh, Macarena
Macarena has a boyfriend whose name is
Whose last name is Vitorino
And during his military swearing in
She got together with two of his friends
Macarena, Macarena, Macarena
Who likes the summers of Marbella
Macarena, Macarena, Macarena
Who likes the guerrilla lifestyle
Macarena dreams of the Corte Ingles (High-class dept. store)
And she likes the most recent fashions
She'd like to live in New York
And trap a new boyfriend


Stop right there. I mean, hold the phone. They might as well be describing me. I love the guerrilla lifestyle. I just adore it. And don't even get me started on the most recent fashions. No wonder we liked the song so much; even if we didn't understand the words, we may have just subconsciously been drawn to such a relatable character as this Macarena chick.

Needless to say, ethnocentric English-speakers required a watered-down version for our own understanding pleasure, so they came up with the following:



Now that is what I am talking about. That was most definitely the version I had blaring from my 90s-era Sony boom box. In case you didn't catch it, it goes a little something like this:

When I dance they call me Macarena
And the boys, they say que soy buena
They all want me, they can't have me
So they come and dance beside me
Move with me, chant with me
And if you're good, I'll take you home with me.

Yeah, that's it. Let's chant together. Oh, that is hot. Are you into Gregorian?

Now don't you worry about my boyfriend
The boy whose name is Vitorino
I don't want him, couldn't stand him
He was no good, so I...ha,ha,ha,ha,ha

Now come on, what was I supposed to do?
He was out of town and his two friends were soooooo fine.

Hey, what happened to Vitorino's military swearing-in ceremony? We couldn't fit that one there, eh?


Come and find me, my name is Macarena
Always at the the party con las chicas que soy buena
Come join me, dance with me
And you fellows chant along with me.
Move with me, chant with me
And if you're good, I'll take you home with me.


Okay, so this version is lacking a bit in the high-end department store/guerrilla warfare categories, but I think you get the general idea.

This handy diagram is great for practicing for 90s theme parties.

Anyway, just try to tell me that the dancers in the remix video are not the prototypical 90s girls. The hairstyles. The clothing. The multiculturalism. The mutliculturalism part is key, too. Because you know what the Macarena does? That's right, it brings cultures together. Forget complicated treaties and trade embargoes, just give us the Macarena and we'll be dancing together in no time. We're not really so different, all of us. We all do the Macarena one arm at a time.

Fanny Packs

Fanny pack. Bum bag. Hip pack. No matter what you called it, if you grew up in the 90s it's likely that you or one of your camera-toting tourist family members was guilty of owning one. No matter which attraction-filled city you happened to occupy, if there were sights to be seen then a full family sporting a rainbow of fanny pack styles and colors couldn't be far behind.

To be fair, fanny packs were indeed functional clothing. They gave a whole new and deeper meaning to the phrase "Look Ma, no hands!" That's right, it was the original hands-free style. A decade before all of those bluetooth-wearing tools were out tooling it up in their tool sheds, they roamed the streets with an earlier prototype. It was the ultimate choice of function over form. There will always be a sizable contingency out there who swears that aesthetics are irrelevant in making wardrobe selections. I respect if you are one of those people. Well, so long as you recognize that you are totally, completely, consummately wrong. A small concession, really, in allowing you to still wear a pack on your fanny. Because honestly. That's ridiculous.




People seemed generally unperturbed by the notion of adding an oddly-shaped zippered lump to their, ahem, private region. You know, what Jack Donaghy would call it your "swimsuit area". It's certainly worthy of further examination as suspicious behavior. Who knows what you're hiding behind there? Never mind, I don't want to know. Just promise me you'll never unzip it in my presence.

Whether it was a class trip or family vacation, fanny packs became inexplicable storage staples of our 90s wardrobes. I suppose the concept makes some sense, as carrying a backpack or a back-pocket waller inevitably leads to Oliver Twist style pick-pocketry. After all, it's an important lesson to teach kids. Trust no one. Everyone is out to get you at all times and are probably after your soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich and your souvenir I Heart NY keychain. Thieves go crazy for that stuff. Really. It drives them wild.

As someone whose parents made her buy one of those under-the-shirt necklace-style passport holders for her first trip abroad, I can certainly appreciate your desire to protect your personal belongings. Or, at the very least, your parents' desire for you to do so. It was more the placement of the accessory that I took issue with. It is universally unflattering, and thus should be shunned by all.

Don't get me wrong. I owned a fanny pack. Oh yeah. A bright, multi-color masterpiece with numerous compartments and zip closures. It clicked together with that satisfying snap! every time I fastened it to my waist and it was pure perfection. My lower waist area had never looked so ornamental. I loved that thing. Really, I did. I'm not embarrassed to admit it. Okay, well I'm not that embarrassed. Well I admitted it, didn't I? That should at least count for something.

At the very least, these things were versatile in their styling. We all knew the different fanny pack methodology to maximize our 90s look. Your fanny packing style* said quite a bit about your personal character. Wear it to the front and we knew you were a straightforward kind of guy, a no-frills, no-muss no-fuss person simply looking for a bodily-latched vessel to transport their keys.

Please do not purchase this. Seriously. I'm looking at you. Don't encourage others.

Wear it to the side, however, and we knew you were sort of, well, a gangster. In the way only fanny pack wearers can be. That is to say, you were most likely white, middle class, and reared in suburbia but dammit you loved rap videos and there was nothing anyone could do to stop you. It usually meant your parents weren't willing to risk their block party reputation by buying you some crazy colored hat you could leave the tags dangling on, but they were willing to spring for an educational trip to Washington DC. Hey, it's some consolation, isn't it?

The most perplexing wearers, however, were those that wore it slung to the back. Yes, I can understand if you're riding a bike** it may be a sort of useful positioning, but it's generally inexcusable as street wear. That is to say, the main argument for wearing a fanny pack tends to fall in the keep-people-from-stealing-your-stuff category. Your rebel without a cause devil-may-care fanny pack attitude is not ironic, it just shows that you're an irresponsible fanny pack wearer certain to fall victim to identity theft. Either that, or you're really, really embarrassed and are trying to convince everyone who meets you from the front that it's just a belt. Those of us who can see you from the back though, we know the truth. You can rotate but you can't hide.

Unfortunately, this was not the last we saw of fanny packs. Certain designers (I'm looking at you, Gucci) felt it necessary to revive the so-called fashion statement in the last few years, releasing an alleged "belt bag" that was nothing more than a glorified logo-emblazoned fanny pack. We're onto your tricks, high-end designers, and we're not going to fall for them. Either make a belt or make a bag, for for all our retina's sake, don't try for both.

Don't even think about it.

*I beg you to just let the double entendre go. Really. I recognize it too, and it is mildly hilarious. But let's all be adults here. Right?

**I mean you, not me. I will never ride a bike again. I loathe bikes for their cruel bone-breaking antics, and I believe fanny packs as cycling gear to be the just and rightful punishment for their menacing society. Not just for breaking my ankle, but also for acting like you're a car when I'm trying to drive in my actual car. I don't care if you're wearing neon spandex, you don't belong in my turn lane. Did I mention I'm not a big bike fan? I appreciate you reading this tiny, italicized rant. Now go strap on your fanny pack, bike boy.

Troll Dolls

Whose idea was it to have their eyes match their hair on these Treasure Trolls? Really, show yourself. That's probably one of the more frightening things I've ever seen.

When you think troll, what comes to mind? Is it a cute, cuddly, neon-haired pot-bellied figure, or a mythical violent under-bridge dwelling creature a la Three Billy Goats Gruff? If you can't answer it correctly, I'm pretty sure he'll make good on that threat to gobble you up. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Many of us did indeed grow up believing that the word troll was exclusively reserved for these hard plastic Einstein-haired elfin dolls. I didn't know that a troll was supposed to be scary, or mean, or snarly, or a generally unsavory character. I was too busy praying that mine came with a rhinestone belly button.

Troll dolls were originally conceived in the 1960s in Denmark and the first specimens were made of wood, leading us to deduce that the original troll-players were besieged by splinters. This semi-impoverished whittling man unknowingly started a Danish toy craze that quickly spread across the world. Though the general concept and design was based on the Danish woodcarver's prototype, he probably never in his wildest troll-infested dreams foresaw the insane breeds of trolls yet to come.

For instance, I'm willing to bet a fair sum of money that he never, ever had anything in mind even remotely like this when he carved that original little wooden figurine for his daughter:

Russ Troll Kids Ad
Uploaded by a90sfan. - Watch feature films and entire TV shows.

I'm not embarrassed to admit as a child I longed to be in this commercial. I mean, what's better than singing and dancing in a toy store with a group of my troll-hugging peers? It's 90s cheesiness at its very best. That synthesizer in the background in pretty critical too. This has got to be one of the laziest ad campaigns I've ever seen. I understand the notion of a no-frills, gimmick-free commercial, but repeating "Can't stop hugging the troll kids" over and over is verging on neglectful.

But I digress. Trolls went underground for awhile between the 60s and 90s. Not literally, of course. Well, not the toys. The real things, I've heard they tend to do that kind of thing. Where was I? Oh yes, the Troll doll renaissance. The dolls were resurrected in the 90s with a big marketing push. The original trolls, however, just weren't kicking for these 90s children. The dolls were now battling the forces of video games, computers, and other mind-numbing recreational stimuli.

The 90s toy market was highly segmented, with toy manufacturers eager to market simultaneously to kid demographics across the board. Rather than offering one solid product, most toy producers opted to offer innumerable watered-down variations of the original. Hence was the case with trolls, leaving many consumers scratching their heads at some of these Troll releases. Here's a prime example of the ridiculous manifestations of the original:



Yes, you heard correctly. Troll Barbie. They don't explain why or how she's associated with Trolls or why she insists of wearing tufts of their multi-colored hair on her head. She wears pants with cartoon Trolls on them and has a Troll necklace. If you're thinking this makes no sense at all, congratulations. You've outwitted the 90s Mattel advisory board.

Clearly Trolls were a tad on the girly side, leaving toy companies scratching their heads as to how to effectively market these cuddly critters to boys. After all, that's a pretty significant segment of the market going un-Trolled. This is what they came up with:



I've officially changed my mind. This is the quintessential 90s commercial. I'm not exactly sure why they had to go ahead and kill a rustling meadowful of adorable, girl-friendly Trolls in order to prove their point at the beginning. Clearly subtlety was not on their marketing agenda. Not only do they claim these dolls to be "OUT OF CONTROL!", they also end the commercial with a threat: "Collect them before they collect you!" I'm sorry, what? What? That makes. Absolutely. No. Sense. Not even a sliver. I guess they got so caught up in the frenzied fast-paced excitement of the commercial, they forgot to proofread the script.

There was also this lighter male-directed line called Stone Protectors, who were supposedly equally bad-ass but who appeared as cartoons in the ads. They also conveniently come with an arsenal of accessories sure to lift the bills directly from your pockets.



If that wasn't enough to do it for you as a kid, how about some misleading and unverified claims? Treasure Trolls were a serious craze, differentiated from the original on belly button rhinestone detail alone. The commercial, however, leads us to believe that these trolls have magical powers to make all of our wildest dreams come true.



They really wanted to drive the point home, so they also came out with this winner of an ad, showing just how exciting your life could be if only you incorporated Treasure Trolls into your daily existence. This one definitely plays down the questionable Treasure Trolls Answer Your Prayers part, too.



In the spirit of cross-marketing, they also released Troll video games, computer games, and even straight-to-video VHS releases like this one:



Really, just don't ask questions. You'll only strain your brain. If nothing else, retrospection on Trolls shows us just how much toy manufacturers were able to get away with in the 90s. Their many Troll releases were pretty shameless. It's almost as if they simply sat around the board room table, everyone coughed up one marginally absurd idea, and they called it a day. When a brand is elevated to craze status, you can pretty much release whatever you want. Looking back, they may have been a bit silly, but at the time I'd give anything to add to my troll collection. I won't lie to you, I'm still sort of coveting that Troll Barbie. What? The commercial was pretty persuasive.

Babe

Who doesn't love talking farm animals? Okay, so maybe I know a few select people who will inevitably tell me these things terrified them to no end, but on the whole they have a lot going for them in the cuteness department. Funny little voices, cute scurrying movements, hilarious misunderstandings of real-life situations through their animal-brain lens. What's not to like?

Babe was one of those movies that could have been a triumph or a disaster, and it managed to come out as the former. Believe it or not, movie technology in 1995 was not quite everything it was today. Technological prowess aside, talking animals have a tendency to go one of two ways: overly cartoony and amusing to only those in the under-ten set, or heartwarmingly adorable in a way that makes you want to "awww" through the whole movie. Babe managed to pull it off, earning not only some well-deserved "awwws" but also some seriously positive critical acclaim.

The movie is an Australian film about a little pig who wants to be a sheepdog. Like most good family films, the premise is simple and uncluttered. Sure, there are some cute B-stories, but it's not an especially complicated plot. The straightforwardness of it appealed to parents and children, and the movie showcased classic themes and values with one corkscrew-tailed twist: a pig protagonist. I'm willing to bet a lot of kids forwent the BLTs at their post-film dinner trips. He was just so darn cute, it was hard not to see him there, waving feebly between the leafy greens and ripe tomatoes.





Ohhh my gosh, when that little Babe cries, "I want my m-o-o-o-om", I die a little inside from the incessant adorability. Could they have chosen a cuter protagonist? The correct answer is no, no they could not have. Babe is the best. He's not just cute and cuddly, he's also naive, strong-willed, stubborn, and determined. In short, he's a perfect entertainment for children because he's exactly like them. Parents were pretty keen on him too, most likely won over by this amazingly endearing version of Jingle Bells:



Babe was not, of course, the only featured farm animal in this film. The movie had a slew of barnyard pals to entertain and enthrall us. The movie begins with our cuddly future pork product is separated from his siblings by chance and selected to be in a booth at a county fair. Farmer Hoggett, the adorable Australian farmer who looks like a moderately more huggable version of pitchfork man in American Gothic, feels an immediate bond with Babe and correctly guesses his weight for the win. He brings home his new prize runt and allows him to nest with the sheepdogs, a cocky breed who clearly know themselves to be the farm favorites.

He is befriended by Maa, a maternal sheep, and Ferdinand, a misguided scheming duck. Ferdinand had been playing resident rooster, and was very upset at the introduction of the mechanical rooster--that is, alarm clock. He ventures with Babe on a covert mission to stop the dreaded mechanical rooster, resulting in mild antic-rousing and some downright messes. Meanwhile, the sheepdog matriarch Fly mourns the loss of her sold-off puppies, and Babe requests to call her Mom. Oh my gosh. The cuteness. The cuteness. I'll give you a minute.

Despite many pork-crazed visiting relatives, Mr. Hoggett inexplicably befriends Babe and protects him from uncertain dinner fate. Unfortunately, they go with duck a l'orange, incidentally the tender meat of Ferdinand's gal pal. Ferdinand peaces out at this point, determined not to become the next duck a l'orange. Babe encounters some men trying to steal some of the Hoggetts' sheep, and in watching the family sheepdogs gather up the herd is enthralled by the possibility of sheepdoghood.

Mr Hoggett takes notice of Babe's special interest, giving him the opportunity to give a go at herding. The sheepdogs warn him that sheep should be treated roughly, but after biting Maa his adorable guilt is just too much to bear. No, our pal Babe opts for asking them politely to please fall in line, to which they graciously comply. The other dogs are pretty pissed and a fight breaks out, leading to some seriuos barnyard drams.



Farmer Hoggett thinks about entering Babe in sheepdog trials, and everything seems to be going very well. Then of course, there is a series of events that are heartbreakingly sad and which I will intentionally omit not just for brevity's sake or spoiler consciousness, but because they make me a cry like an overgrown infant. I'll let you rent the movie or Netflix it or whatever newfangled thing you kids are doing these days to get ahold of classic films, but I'll spare you some of the sadder details. You're welcome.

Babe gets signed up for the sheepdog trials under the auspicious stage name "pig". Before his grand performance, he finds out that (gasp!) people just like his beloved Mr. Hoggett actually eat pigs. I know, I know. I'll give you some time to digest that. Not literally, though, I hope. Hoggett sings the 70s hit "If I had Words" to try to make it up to him. A small consolation, no doubt, but he goes for it. After some tense moments, Babe performs beautifully in the sheepdog trials, earning the praise and admiration of the crowd. And of course, he gets the ultimate show of affection from Mr. Hoggett himself, who tells him, "That'll do, pig. That'll do."

I leave you with the mice rendition of If I had Words, certain to make you smile or make your eardrums burst depending on your tolerance for helium-infused voice work.