As a young girl, I thought that Mandy was the perfect doll. She was a girl, not a baby. She would hold the poses I put her in. She had the sweetest face, and was blond, like me.
There was a girl in my Sunday school class who also had a My Friend Mandy. She even brought it with her to church. (This shocked my little mind.) Most surprising of all, this girl (whose name was Amanda, and sometimes went by Mandy), looked just like the doll, turned up nose and everything. Her clothes even matched. I was sure that she was the girl the doll was modeled on.