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Hula Barbie, Aloha KenBy Lisa Mann
Marton never owned a store-bought doll as a child, but she’s making up for lost time now. Her museum contains over 5,000 Barbie dolls, many dressed in Florence’s handmade Polynesian costumes --muumuus, holoku, holomuu, and ancient hula costumes as well as aloha shirts. Her museum is clearly a labor of love. Open by appointment only, she charges no admission, and has even been known to drive from the town of Kailua on the windward side of Oahu to Waikiki Beach on the leeward side to pick up visitors without transportation at their hotels.
She bought her first Barbie doll when her youngest daughter was five. Marton rewarded her children’s good grades with gifts, and her daughter Shirley Ann begged for a Barbie. Marton began collecting dolls after her daughter left home, leaving behind her Barbies. The rest, as they say, is history. ”I didn’t sew costumes for dolls when my kids were little,” she laughs. “I had four kids, and was always working. I didn’t have the time.”
Each costume is unique, although some—the grass skirts, Ken’s aloha shirts, and King Kamahemeha’s costume --are all frequently requested by her visitors. She can spend hours carefully stringing tiny shells for a shell lei, or whip out a colorful Aloha shirt while watching TV. She sells some of the costumes she creates, but only to visitors to her museum. Costs range from $10 to $35. At the annual Barbie Conventions, Marton showed her fellow collectors her hula costumes, or tableaus that included outrigger canoes and Ken in historical Polynesian costumes. Word spread, and with increasing frequency, collectors called her when the vacationed in Hawaii, asking her to show them her collection.
Marton opened the museum in 1986, and has expanded the original garage that housed it several times. The unadvertised museum beside her home is crammed with dolls: the first Barbies, the original Lillies (the doll Barbie was modeled after), limited editions, porcelain Barbies, pregnant Barbie, international Barbies, miniature Barbies, and two 6 foot tall Barbies. Perhaps the most interesting for visitors are Barbie and Ken dressed in the costumes of the seven Polynesian nations: Hawaii, Fiji, New Zealand, the Marquesas, Samoa, Tahiti, and Tonga. Marton amassed her collection by attending yearly Barbie conventions and frequenting the twice weekly Honolulu flea market. She scouts the flea market early, trying to beat the collectible dealers who also scour the flea market. She’s even bought her own dolls at the flea market. “A friend once asked me if she could display Barbie in a muumuu and Ken in an aloha shirt in Hilo Hattie’s (a popular tourist shop specializing in Hawaiian clothes.) I gave them to her, and a few years later I found the same Barbie at the flea market for three dollars. The next Sunday, there was Ken for three dollars. So I bought them both back.” She also bought many dolls at the Barbie conventions, purchasing limited editions from Mattel and other collectors, and trading with collectors who design their own costumes. Each doll is tagged with the date she received it, and info about the doll or edition itself, and a credit line for the designer or seamstress of the costumes. Of course, whenever possible she keeps the dolls in their original packaging. Although Marton from time to time considers closing her museum to the public, her innate hospitality and love of the dolls has made it impossible for her to turn away anyone who shares her interest. Florence Marton may be reached at: |
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On
a quiet residential street in Kailua, Hawaii sits an unassuming house, fronted
by verdant Hawaiian flowers, and gated to keep the dog in. Hidden from the
street, in an unmarked garage, is a doll-collector’s treasure—Florence Marton’s
private “Hawaii Loves Beautiful Dolls” Museum. 
She’s
had visitors from 39 states and 18 countries, from as far away as Haiti,
Budapest, and Germany. Her visitors are most often single collectors who have
heard of her collection by word of mouth, but occasionally she’ll host larger
groups. She’s had groups as large as 50, but because of her location in a quiet
residential neighborhood, and the tightly packed aisles of dolls in her museum,
she breaks larger groups into groups of 12 or so at a time. “I like to meet and
talk with people who just love the dolls the way I do,” Marton says. 
The
costumes she creates are sometimes simply gathered ribbon, sometimes crocheted,
sometimes intricate Polynesian costumes inspired by visits to the Polynesian
Cultural Center, but the island influence is unmistakable. The time spent on
each costume varies; “I never know until I finish just how it will turn out,”
she says. 
In
the meantime, her collection outgrew every space she allotted for it.