cast in the shape
of a stiletto-heeled pump and painted a glossy black. Never mind that her leg is a fetishistic caricature; never mind that
she is hobbled, easily pushed into a horizontal position; that she might want to play tennis sometime or walk on the beach.
Poor Lilli can never take the monstrous slipper off.
Sculpted by doll designer Max Weissbrodt, Lilli was never intended for children: She was a pornographic caricature, a gag
gift for men, or even more curious, for men to give to their girlfriends in lieu of, say, flowers. "Die hochsten Herm haben Lilli gem" —"Gentlemen prefer Lilli," says a brochure promoting her wardrobe, over a picture of the doll in a short skirt that has blown
up above her waist. It adds: "Whether more or less naked, Lilli is always discreet." ("Ob mehr oder minder nackt Lilli bewahrt immer Tackt. ")
Like Barbie, Lilli has an outfit for every occasion, but they aren't the sort of occasions in which nice girls find themselves.
In a dress with a low-cut back, Lilli can be "the star of every bar"; in a tarty lace one, she can rendezvous for a five o'clock
tea—either in a cafe* or (wink) in private. Lilli isn't just a symbol of sex, she is a symbol of illicit sex.
"You should take Lilli with you everywhere," the brochure advises men. As a "mascot for your car," Lilli promises a "swift
ride" ("beschwingte Fahrt"). The nature of this "swift ride" is suggested by Lilli's photo. In a tight sweater and microscopic shorts, she sits on a swing,
her outstretched legs slightly splayed—a pornographic recasting of Fragonard's erotic The Swing. The brochure mentions that "children swoon" over Lilli; but the very notion of "swooning"—the way one "swoons" over a rock
star—has a weird carnal ifinuendo, implicitly sexualizing kids.
Just what did German men do with the doll? "I saw it once in a guy's car where he had it up on the dashboard," said Cy Schneider,
the former Carson/Roberts copywriter who wrote Barbie's first TV commercials. "I saw a couple of guys joking about it in a
bar. They were lifting up her skirts and pulling down her pants and stuff."
Lilli is more, however, than a male wet dream; she is a Teutonic fantasy. And her Germanness is a critical part of her identity.
Lilli reminds me of Maria Braun in The Marriage of Maria Braun, Rainer Werner Fass-binder's allegorical 1979 film about the relationship between the two parts of then-divided Germany. Not
only does Hanna Schygulla, the relentlessly Aryan actress who portrays Maria, closely resemble Lilli; for much of the movie
she wears the same hairstyle—a flaxen ponytail with poodle bangs. One gets the sense that Lilli, like Maria, has endured great
privation during the war, and that even if it means using men, she will not starve again. Although Fassbinder is not around
to clear up the mystery, one has to believe he was familiar with the Lilli cartoon character—so similar to Lilli's are Maria's
clothes, makeup, and behavior.
In Fassbinder's movie, the parallel between Maria and the Federal Republic is clearly defined: Maria kills a black American
G.I.; her German husband takes the fall, and she remains loyal to him while he is in jail—a situation analogous to the prisonlike
condition of East Germany before 1989. Her loyalty, however, does not preclude exchanging sexual favors for cigarettes, silk
stockings, and ultimately, corporate perks. Lilli first appeared in 1952, when the so-called German economic miracle was under
way, though far from fully realized. And while Lilli doesn't bear the metaphorical burden of a marriage to the East, it's
hard not to view her pursuit of wealth as similar to that of West Germany. She is the vanquished Aryan, golddigging her way
back to prosperity.
Ruth Handler first encountered the Lilli doll when she was shopping in Switzerland on a family vacation. "We were walking
down the street in Lucerne and there was a doll—an adult doll with a