If you are one of the minions who spend their time following the sick sad world of brand legal battles, you'll know that Mattel just won a million dollar suit against the makers of Bratz dolls for poaching one of their designers from the Barbie workstation. Now MGA, the makers of Bratz, slutty tween figurines that have inspired their own clothing line and film, will be forced to pull their dolls off the shelf after Christmas and shut down their whole Bratzy operation.

Meanwhile, Moe Tkacik, of previous Gawker and Jezebel fame who broke the story the Barbie/Bratz controversy wide open in 2003, is back writing at XX Factor, giving advice on how Mattel can now incorporate the Bratz into their own line while still maintaining sales on the original Barbie (who now approaching her 50th anniversary, is starting to become the Kim Cattrall of the unreasonable expectations for young girls line).

First stop? Nike sweatshop, y'all!

Nike pays such close attention to consumers that most celebrities at this point endorse the brand for free. Which brings me to a telling anecdote in a Vanity Fair profile of Kimora Lee Simmons a few years back in which Kimora's daughters clamor for Bratz dolls even as the mortified designer/diva/whatever had inked a contract with Mattel.
True that. As Moe says, sneaker fetishists are so common nowadays, and Nike had a huge part in bringing up the "gotta catch them all"-esque obsession with shoe collection that made it acceptable for men to browse Zappos.com for hours. Though what Moe seems to be forgetting is that in opening up the shoe market to both genders, Nike was able to double their profit. Meanwhile, you'd be hard-pressed to find a way to market Barbies or Bratz to dudes who didn't already dream of growing up to be the next Christian Siriano.

Solution? If you can't get the bi-gender partisanship, go for the oldies. Market lines of "retro" Barbies and vintage classic Bratz that will appear to a hipster's innate desire for kitschy crap. Maybe some sort of Barbie Liquor for "adult dream girls everywhere?" Or some sort of tie-in with My Super Sweet Sixteen, a show that spans all racial and class barriers to bring together the country in a unifying hatred of rich people while coveting their excessive wealth.