(Not counting ones drawn by someone not associated with Sanrio.)
I am a Hello Kitty aficionado. I always have to pick my new favorite; for a long time it was angel Hello Kitty, and now it’s sexy librarian Hello Kitty. I’m just that kind of person. If a thing exists that I need and said thing can be bought with Hello Kitty on it, that’s probably the version I’ve got. I was turned onto the magic of Hello Kitty by a Japanese four-year-old at the summer daycare camp I counselor-in-training-ed at the summer before my sixth grade year; she had all sorts of adorable Hello Kitty things. Over the summer we grew very close, and by summer’s end she was babbling in English (which she did not speak at summer’s start) and, as a token of affection, gave me Hello Kitty gel pens. I’ve never looked back, and am unashamed to be a twenty-year-old Hello Kitty freak.
This in mind, the Japan store at Epcot in Disney World is one of my favorites, thanks in large part to their huge Sanrio section. So I was perusing the store quite thoroughly this last time I was there. In addition to the sexy librarian Hello Kitty and pajama party Hello Kitty and strawberry Hello Kitty and dozens of other variations, I saw:
I saw it on a backpack, but the effect was the same. I was goggling, jaw hitting the floor, eyes wide in disbelief. The collection, made to complement the angel collection I assume, is “demon” Hello Kitty. Before I knew that officially, thanks to the magic of the interwebs, I was calling her succubus Hello Kitty, which isn’t too far off (“a demon in female form, said to have sexual intercourse with men in their sleep” according to dictionary.com). She was black! She had horns and bat wings! At least on the backpack, you could see her panties.
Naturally, the side of me that went this past Halloween as a psychotic British vampire adored the idea of succubus/demon Hello Kitty. The prudish eleven year old in me was horrified. I feel like this is a reasonable description of the effect the collection is supposed to have. Adoration mixed with horror. My childhood (or, well, my adolescence) has been corrupted. And I sort of don’t mind.
– your fangirl heroine.
