Dora gets a tween make-over. © Nickelodeon.

Since American animation and culture intersect in so many fascinating vertices, there never seems to be a dearth of subjects to explore. The latest specimen to go under the cultural microscope is one almond-eyed, bowl-haired moppet of the species Doradem Explorica Nickelodeous, more commonly known as Dora the Explorer. You have no doubt seen this spunky, charming little adventurer, or at least her voluminous merchandise. In the company of her B.F.F. Diego or simian sidekick Boots, Dora has packed more adventure into her short life than most girls do before sorority pledge night. In the best tradition of certain regal entities in Pantone Pink, she's even been the princess of some unnamed Mesoamerican kingdom (at least in the local Toys 'R Us). Dora rarely found herself in peril during her explorations, but she recently had to face a terror so primal that parents across the nation were left screaming in heartfelt terror.

She grew up.

Well, aged a couple of years is more like it, but that didn't stop adults from fearing the worst. The news broke, appropriately enough, on Friday, Feb. 13th. Nickelodeon/Viacom spokesperson Leigh Anne Brodsky and Mattel VP of marketing Gina Sirard announced the arrival of "tweenage" Dora, a doll aimed at the five-years-and over-set. Dora 2.0 would be more fashion-conscious, attend middle school, and hang out with a new set of gal pals. The "new" Dora was not to be revealed until October of 2009, but the merchandising folks couldn't resist giving potential consumers a sneak peek. A silhouette of Dora the Mature-er was released to create an alluring sense of mystery and whet young appetites for the Grand Debut in the fall.

What happened was a tremendous smash-up at the intersections of animation, marketing and culture. The silhouette appeared to depict a long-haired, miniskirted flirt that bore little resemblance to Doradem Explorica. Parents whose daughters had spent years watching the original Dora were outraged, writing to Mattel, Nick and Viacom when they weren't busy writing outraged blogs: "Dora the Streetwalker!" "Dora the Tramp!" "Sexed up Dora! A terrible role model for our girls!" Oh, the names piled upon the erstwhile little adventurer, months before she would ever hit the shelves.

Mattel and Nick/Viacom were quick to react. Nine months before the unveiling, the marketing team decided to release the drawing from which Dora's silhouette was taken. What the public saw was an appealing, innocent-looking young girl with nary a smidge of makeup, who was actually clad in a flowery tunic and leggings. The Mattel crew did a fine job of accelerating her growth; one is reminded of the technique of in which police use computer simulations to depict how a long-missing child might look as a teenager. There is little, if anything, that suggests a decadent tramp. The drawing seemed to mollify moms everywhere. With considerable understatement Sirard told the media, "I think there was a misconception in terms of where we were going with this." She went on to say that "Pretty much the moms who are petitioning aging Dora…are going to be pleasantly happy once this is available in October, and once they understand that this certainly isn't what they are conjuring up."

Could Dora end up like these Bratz one day?

How did things get that far in the first place? Why the nearly universal leap to conclusion that an older Dora would be a sexed-up libertine? In a short but insightful article for The Huffington Post, Mike Alvear and Paul Wolski laid the blame at the high-heeled feet of Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera, as well as their pop culture "grandmother," Madonna. According to the article, this triumvirate (among others) was responsible for the onset of precocious sexual awareness in young girls. The authors have a good point, but may not be accounting for everything that collided in this particular train wreck.

Britney Spears and Lindsey Lohan are not anyone today's girls would want to emulate. They are self-destructive, shattered souls who tear bleeding pieces from themselves and toss them to the media. What these celebrities and others like them really did was to launch a highly sexualized style of clothing, accessories, and cultural signifiers to girls who wanted to be hip, popular, and cool. If that meant push-up bras and bare midriffs on twelve year-olds, well, that's what the market produced. To be among the unhip, unlovely, and undated is perhaps more devastating than it ever was at any time in our culture. Cool is the rule. Girls don't really want to be Britney Spears; they want to live their own version of what they think Britney is about.