How the ‘backwoods Barbie’ Dolly Parton turned self-aware artifice into authentic artistry

Pete Still/Redferns/Getty Images Scrolling through the tributes to Dolly Parton this morning – from the Grand Ole Opry , New York Mayor Zohran Mamdani , queerfluencers and others – I thought to myself: that’s her real name? Yes.

The “Queen of Country”, who died overnight aged 80, was born Dolly Rebecca Parton.

My surprise at the authenticity of her name says something about the contradiction within the figure of Dolly.

A sometime figure of ridicule and satire, the opening image of Dolly – in interviews , send ups and even her own branding – was often related to her apparent “fakeness”.

Her literal figure – breasts, face, hair – was obviously artificial.

And often these synthetic additions to her body were transposed into an assumption she herself was, if not inauthentic, at least somewhat superficial.

Dolly’s first hit on the country charts was Dumb Blonde in 1967.

But what a name! Not a diminutive of a serious name, not a stage name, but a real name that moves us towards her celebrity image as one: dressed-up, made-up, an object with which the entertainment industry played.

But the fact it is her true name pushes us into the performative savviness with which Dolly herself played.

Her blondeness became a trademark, as did her pride and tongue-in-cheek irreverence for her “plastic” image.

Playing with contradiction In the same year as Dumb Blonde charted, she released her first LP – Hello, I’m Dolly .

This potentially self-conscious insertion of agency (I am ) into a familiar 1960s musical title (Hello Dolly) might point us to an early positioning of herself as a “Dolly”.

In a genre where (apparent) sincerity is paramount – the top charting country song in her debut year was the conventionally sentimental All the Time by Charles Greene – Dolly made artifice her signature.

Again, we have a contradiction.