The Barbie Phone is plastic, fantastic, and impractical

The Barbie phonelike the doll paying tribute, it is a thing of beauty. But like that doll whose proportions, historically, are impossiblethe Barbie Phone just isn’t built for the modern world.

Even if the ultra-feminine aesthetic isn’t your thing—and it’s definitely not mine—you’ve got to pass on the Barbie phone. From the box it comes in, to the interchangeable plates, rhinestone stickers, and Barbie-fied interface, it’s a delight. The charger and battery are both pink, although they are a shade lighter than Mattel’s brand Barbie Pink (Pantone 219). The phone says “Hello Barbie!” when it turns on. It is the definition of commitment to the bit.

The breezy fun of the Barbie aesthetic, Pantone 219 or otherwise, is in contrast to the real experience of using the phone. It is based on one of HMD’s feature phones, and runs an operating system called KaiOS. The phone is designed for basic connectivity – texting, calling, e-mail – and even includes a web browser.

According to HMD, in addition to being expensive, the nostalgic design and limited feature set are supposed to encourage you to disconnect and spend time with your friends IRL. There are a series of “Barbie Tips” in the phone menus that advise you on this point.

“You don’t have to give up the smartphone completely,” reads Barbie Tip 1. “Find a balance between your smartphone and your Barbie phone.” Barbie Tip 6 is titled “DreamHouse™️ Rule” and encourages you to “Make tech-free zones in your own DreamHouse. More room for fun!” Incidentally, Mattel it says it sells a DreamHouse Barbie every two minutes. The DreamHouse sells for $199.99; the Barbie Phone is $129.99.

The idea of ​​popping my SIM card into the Barbie phone and escaping for a digital detox weekend with my besties sounds fantastic. The reality is not so easy. Have you ever tried to enter your Google account password using an alphanumeric keyboard? Do you know how to find curly brackets in T9? I have and I have, thanks to the Barbie Phone, and I don’t want anyone else. Typing messages with predictive text is more annoying than I remember; if I used this phone regularly, I would probably call a lot more people.

Aside from texting, some of the features of this feature phone didn’t work well for me. I’ve synced my Google calendar fine, but my appointments appear on the wrong days for reasons I can’t discern. I couldn’t get the FM radio app to recognize the wired headphones I plugged into the 3.5mm jack. The web browser is painfully slow and refuses to render The Virgin in any usable form, although I realize I’m probably the only person trying to read it The Virgin on the Barbie phone.

The joy I felt when I first opened the Barbie Phone has definitely faded. Even the front of the phone, which is mostly covered by a mirror, looked much less attractive covered in my fingerprints and smudges. And I think having a mirror on the front of your phone is cute, because you can frame up your selfies and check your teeth for pieces of kale.

But you know when it’s not expensive? Having to look at your own face every time you check for a notification. This is a kind of existential dilemma that Barbie should not endure, because Barbie’s makeup is pre-applied and she is perpetually twenty-two years old. or whatever. I don’t want to see my face when I check the texts, four espressos deep on a Tuesday morning without a drop of concealer under my eyes.

Barbie’s world is a dream. Unfortunately, the world in which the Barbie Phone allows me to escape from the work of modern connectivity still seems to be a dream. Of course, it allowed me to take a little vacation from my smartphone and still text my friends. But mostly, just replaced the hassle of using an ultra-connected device with different hassles.

Someone more committed to using T9 could probably have an enjoyable time with the Barbie Phone. Otherwise, this is just a neat collector’s item; something to take out of the box and play with for a while, but finally leave in a drawer. Like a doll.

Photo by Allison Johnson/The Verge