A magazine of one’s own. That’s what DOLLY was to 12-year-old, lanky and friendless me, sitting in a bedroom in a modest house behind a swamp in regional Australia.
Its big sister tone, hyper-femme colour palette, pretty girls and rank perfume samples were the monthly private pleasure that let me escape my bedroom and enter girl land. That’s where I was valued. That’s where I could dream my way out. That’s where I could ask embarrassing questions about my vagina, or at least read other people’s.
DOLLY started in 1970, the same year The Female Eunuch, a bestselling feminist book, was released. Now DOLLY wasn’t a feminist manifesto. It was a much more subtle space for articulating and redefining pre-pubescent subjectivity. It had never been done before in Australia. Read more…