I was nearly seventy years old when I got my first Barbie. When I first saw Hudson’s Bay Barbie nearly ten years ago, I knew I just had to have her, with her little terrier dog, her briefcase, her HB striped coat, woolly toque, designer sunglasses, and a takeout cup of Timmie’s (I assume it was from Timmie’s—HB being originally Canadian) steeped tea.

I wasn’t going to make the same mistake I did decades ago when I was too cheap to buy the Kate Spade Barbie with the little Maltese dog I spotted at Holt Renfrew. It seems my little $79.95 HB Barbie from 2016 is now worth up to $600.00 on eBay—with the box, which I threw out because I knew I would never part with her for any amount of money. And, the Kate Spade Barbie has barely appreciated in value. Who’s the smart gal here?

By the time Barbie hit the toy market in 1959 I was twelve years old, a bit too old for playing with dolls. I’d enjoyed all those earlier years dressing my Elizabeth Taylor and Debbie Reynolds paper dolls (we called them cutouts) in evening gowns and shopping outfits while they fought over Eddie Fisher, but I just missed the boat when Mattel launched Barbie. Much as I would have loved dressing her up, styling her long blonde plastic hair, and sending her off on thrilling adventures in her camper or her sports car, it’s likely my parents couldn’t have afforded to keep me stocked up on the latest outfits and accoutrements anyway. Paper dolls were more in tune with our budget.

Hard as it is to believe, according to a recent article by Alisha Haridasani Gupta in the New York Times, Barbie’s tiny feet have been measured and analyzed over the years by a group of podiatrists in Melborne, Australia, who obviously have too much time on their hands. What they discovered is her arches have not survived the test of time. Like the rest of us (she is sixty-six years old, after all!) those high arches have fallen. When she was first launched, one-hundred percent of Barbie feet had high arches and wore high heels. Now, only forty percent ascribe to killer stillettos, and the other sixty percent, like us boomers, wear comfortable shoes.

Obviously astronauts, carpenters, and marine biologists (just a few of Barbie’s careers over the years) could not wear heels on the job. Likewise, work as police officers, lifeguards, and firefighters are not stilletto-friendly and Barbie would never tolerate being laughed at or told to go home and change footwear. There’s a scene in last-year’s Barbie movie where her long-suffering arches welcome a lower heel and liberated feet. I could relate as part of my work wardrobe back in the day included a pair of steel-toed and heeled Kodiak safety work boots for the construction sites I visited on a regular basis.

I clearly recall running to work at Ma Bell up and down Toronto’s busy Yonge Street back in the sixties in my high heels and nylon stockings (pre-pantyhose). Just to show you how far we’ve come since then, in 1965 my roommate was actually issued a pair of pristine white gloves to wear to work when she took office assignments for Manpower (!!) Canada, a temporary placement agency that was popular at the time. We had standards to maintain in order to be take semi-seriously in the MadMen era of office etiquette. Imagine running standards like that by today’s millennials or Gen-Zs.

Until now, I’ve never had anything remotely in common with Barbie. Now I do—we’re both into comfortable shoes. I expect with all those decades and miles on her delicate feet, she too has suffered the horrors of fallen arches and plantar fasciitis. My little Hudson’s Bay Barbie is wearing solid, block-heeled boots, a further sign of her evolution. I now limit most of my shoe purchases to Fit Flop (the brand, not the sandal style), Vionic, or any other quality shoe with industrial strength arch supports and non-slip soles. I may be old, but like Barbie, I’m smart, and I too have evolved.