ORLANDO — When you're a dude at the American Girl store, you lay low, seek shadows, hug walls. Hiding's cool, too. Samuel Gaskin, visiting from Las Vegas, is motionless on a bench, sitting directly beneath a wall-sized portrait of a young lass cradling a rubber-faced 18-inch doll that's dressed exactly like her.
The girl and the doll are smiling; Samuel Gaskin is not.
"I found my spot and sat down, stayed put," says Gaskin, a Chicago Bears cap pulled low over slightly glazed eyes. "They're out there, somewhere, trying on dresses. I'm good here. I'm good."
I give Gaskin a quick tutorial in the phenomenon, which is once again one of the hottest toys of the holiday season. American Girls (around $115 each, just for the doll) look like Cabbage Patch Kids all grown up and running for sixth-grade president. Different ethnicities, time periods, many come with a history-rich backstory, one even including slavery. These gals are tough, thoughtful, independent. Barbie will work for them one day. In pop-cultural terms, they are Taylor Swift, Hermione Granger.
Gaskin looks at me as if I just spoke to him in Martian. "All I know is that it's huge," he says.
American Girl Orlando — 15,000 square feet of girl-power insanity at the Florida Mall on bustling Orange Blossom Trail — opened Nov. 15, joining a Miami location as the only two in the state. There are only 20 or so in the world, each new location greeted with the same squealish enthusiasm as an Apple store or, well, a One Direction concert.
Last year, American Girl, which started as mail-order only and has a strong online presence, whipped up sales of $632.5 million, an 11 percent surge over the year prior. Launched in 1986 by Wisconsin's Pleasant Co., the original gist was specific preteen characters. (Meet Kaya, an American Indian from 1764. Her mare's name is Steps High. Her tepee can be yours for $150!)
Accessories are available for each, as well as books (Finding Freedom: An Addy Classic) and movies (Kit Kittredge: An American Girl, produced by Julia Roberts). The big event is the Girl of the Year, a distinction currently held by modern-day Isabelle, an aspiring dancer with big dreams.
In 1998, just 12 years after its inception, American Girl was purchased by Mattel for $700 million. Mattel also owns Barbie, but whereas sales of the blond bombshell continue to dip, her more sensible, less vavoomish gal pals are surging. These are the days of Katniss Everdeen, after all. In a smart shift, you can buy a "My American Girl Doll," which can be assembled to look just like you: skin tone, wavy hair, retainer and headgear, etc.
I'm here with my daughters — Ava, 11, and Maya, 6 — and my mom, 73. It is two days before Christmas, which is sort of like sticking your head in a lion's mouth, only more terrifying. The store is crowded, if not slammed, and yet the energy is giddy, infectious, nerve-racking.
As well as spacious pink-hued showrooms festooned with dolls and clothes and a $350 Volkswagen Beetle for 1974 flower-child Julie Albright, there's also a busy Doll Hair Salon and the Bistro in back. Ava and Maya have brought their favorite plastic ladies for new 'dos and some food: Sarah (which is Ava's "My" doll) and Maya's Rebecca Rubin (a Russian-Jewish miss, circa 1914 New York City).
At the Doll Hair Salon, my mom drops $32 for Sarah and Rebecca to have their hair spritzed with water and knotted up into "fish-tail braids." The dolls sit in little salon chairs facing their owners; it's pretty darned adorable. My daughters are captivated, and kudos to the young stylists who engage my kids with questions and sincerity.
As for the Bistro — where dolls sit at the table via connectable chairs — the Daly girls get bummed that we didn't sign up for Afternoon Tea, which costs $13.50 per person and revolves around a three-tiered platter of finger foods and related canapes. Instead, in a rather dull dining room worked by rather dull servers, we have lukewarm soup, so-so paninis and Cokes. Total with tip: about $75. Throw in a $34 guitar accessory for Ava's doll and a $30 "double bow" dress for Maya's, and our total in-store visit runs close to $200.
Upon leaving after a couple hours — locations in New York and Los Angeles are much bigger and have more to do — I half-jokingly tell Ava that the store was kind of "creepy." My daughter rolls her eyes at me: "They're just too natural for you, Dad. You like Barbies." Yep. Spoken like a true, sassy American Girl.
Contact Sean Daly at sdaly@tampabay.com. Follow @seandalypoplife.