During my early years in elementary school, there was a vibrant rotating staircase outside our classroom that led to the second-floor science classroom. This staircase also doubled as a large stage where students loved to run and play during recess. One of our favorite activities was pretending to be characters from Sailor Moon.

At that time, Sailor Moon was the hottest topic among my classmates, second only to the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers in terms of popularity. The most exciting part, of course, was the transformation process. Sailor Moon sported a now-retro heart-shaped hollow bangs and two golden buns on top of her head, which transformed into long, flowing hairstyles. Naturally, there was fierce competition among my female classmates to play this iconic role. As we moved through the rotating staircase, someone had to take on the role of the villain in our make-believe adventures, and the selection process involved intense rounds of rock-paper-scissors. This led to a ranking of our favorite characters. Some of us prioritized personality, some cared about costume colors, and others focused on how similar each character was to themselves. It dawned on me that cartoons and animations, these cherished childhood memories, quietly influenced everyone's aesthetic preferences and self-identity.

Fortunately, my mom never discouraged my interests. Just like my passion for drawing, she supported my journey by enrolling me in art classes where I learned sketching and watercolor techniques since kindergarten. She even accompanied me to various art competitions, nurturing my creative spirit.

I often sit at the desk in the corner of the living room, holding colored pens and crayons, carefully sketching Sailor Moon on the paper. After finishing my drawing, I would show it to my mom, who is washing the hair of the customers next to me. Of course, I've already arranged for the neighbors to watch and praise my performance. Even though my dad expresses his disapproval in various subtle ways, I never want to deny or give up on the things that make me passionate and happy. Like the school bulletin board, every piece of paper is securely displayed on the wall with two small thumbtacks, creating my own little world. To me, Barbie dolls are also an essential part of it.

My grandmother has three sisters, whom I call Grand Aunties. I often visit the youngest Grand Auntie's house, and she takes care of me. The oldest Grand Auntie runs a gold paper shop just like my grandmother, and the second oldest Grand Auntie, who I've admired since I was young, owns a grocery store. I often refer to it as “kám-á-tiàm” in Taiwanese. There is a small glass room in front of the store selling betel nuts.

I love watching her skillful gestures as she wraps betel nuts, quick yet elegant. She ties her hair into a neat ponytail every day, wearing a dark-colored T-shirt and tight pants for work. Unlike my grandmother and the other two Grand Aunties, her dressing style and personality are not very feminine. I don't recall seeing her wear a dress or a skirt. She only applies two pink lines on her lips, probably just to appear more polite to customers.

Every time my mom needs something, I always follow her like a shadow because Grand Auntie's kám-á-tiàm has all kinds of things, including food, toys, and on the wall above the shop, there are Barbie dolls.

Even though they aren't the fancy and expensive Barbie dolls sold in specialized stores, I can't let go of them. Their heads might be slightly bigger, and their legs might have some flaws in production, but isn't this proportion and appearance more relatable?

Whenever I set my eyes on a Barbie doll, I would sweetly ask my mom if she could buy it for me. After a couple of times, my mom would naturally resist. But since I’m the doted little boy in the big family, Grand Auntie, without hesitation, would grab a bamboo pole and skillfully retrieve the Barbie doll from a high shelf, handing it to me. I would sincerely thank Grand Auntie, and my mom would play out the whole act of "No, you can't always do this. Oh well, okay, next time you can't, quickly thank your Grand Auntie." While my mom continued to chat with Grand Auntie about family matters, I would hold onto the Barbie doll and start looking for inspiration in the toy store.

What kind of inspiration? Of course, it's fashion inspiration for Barbie.

The most memorable time was when I hesitated for a long time in the noodle section, just to choose the most yellow noodles so that I could dress up Barbie as Sailor Moon. Yes, noodles were an essential element for her future hairstyle. Then, as I wandered around the store, ideas started forming in my mind. I thought to myself: when I get home, I can use the rubber bands from the bottom box of my mom's work cart to secure the noodles. There should be yellow rubber bands inside because Barbie's hair is not golden. Then, I peeked into the stationery section at the bottom of the store and picked out the appropriate colored paper. I would go back and cut it a little, and then use double-sided tape and transparent tape to complete the whole outfit. I would also cut the foam tape into small pieces and use them to add dimension to the bow on Barbie's chest. Ah! I think I used up all the foam tape last time when I made a Mother's Day card. Luckily, my Grand Auntie also has some. Will my mom scold me for using it? No, I will tell her that Dad also needs foam tape; that's how I'll handle it.

If the corner desk and display wall in the living room are my little world, my aunt's toy store is my big inspiration world.

It has been over ten years since I came to Taipei, and I haven't seen my aunt for a long time. Of course, I can't remember what happened to those Barbie dolls. I’ve watched every movie of the Toy Story series repeatedly, and every time I still shed tears and think, hey, I'm sorry, did I treat you well afterwards? But my Grand Auntie's kám-á-tiàm and the Barbie dolls were still like a dream, an extremely beautiful presence in my childhood.

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