When they presented their smash hit Don't Cha as a femminist anthem it had a few thousand femminists scratching their heads and blowing the dust of their copies of The Femminist Mystique. So are the Pussycat Dolls music industry stooges or, as they claim, a strong role model for young girls? Melody Thornton tells Jum Carroll about life in the valley of the Dolls

Last summer, New York journalist and commentator Ariel Levy published Female Chauvinist Pigs: Women and the Rise of Raunch Culture. The book looked at what passed for feminism in the 21st century and wondered where it had all gone wrong. What Levy wanted to know was why so many of her sisters thought raunch culture was another form of female empowerment.

At the same time the book hit the stores and the author went on the promotional trail, a tune by a six-piece all-girl group appeared in the charts. Thanks to Don't Cha and especially that "don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?" tease, the Pussycat Dolls took over the No 1 spot on both sides of the Atlantic. The tune seemed to be on the radio every time you switched it on. It may have been the first time a band drawn from the ranks of burlesque dancers had a smash hit, but it's unlikely to be the last.

However, a strange thing became to happen as Levy plugged her book in interview after interview. The Dolls and the success they were having thanks to strutting around the place looking like strippers kept coming up for discussion.

In the book, Levy had used such examples as shopping, Sex and the City, Brazilian waxes and best-selling books by porn stars to illustrate her points about the growth of the frat girl. Yet, with the softcore bump-and-grind of Don't Cha going on in the background, Female Chauvinist Pigs and the Dolls became linked in many minds. Levy certainly didn't object.

It would be interesting, all the same, to hear the views of those who pull the strings in Dollworld about the book. In this world, there are a number of people who could pass for Dr Evil. There's Robin Antin, a LA choreographer who first had the idea to put together a bunch of burlesque-inspired dancers for a special kind of raunchy cabaret. She wanted it to be about "making everyone look like a real, living doll". After all, she reasoned, "inside every woman, there's a Pussycat Doll."

Within months, the Dolls had become so hot on the LA scene that such A-listers as Brittany Murphy, Scarlett Johansson, Charlize Theron, Christina Aguilera and Gwen Stefani were queuing up to perform onstage with them. The Dolls would do their thing at the usual hip huts round Los Angeles. Men and women would go "hell yeah" and tell their friends about it.

That's where Jimmy Iovine, one of the other Dr Evils in this tale, comes in. Iovine is the big cheese at the Interscope record label and the powerhouse behind U2, Dr Dre, Eminem, 50 Cent and dozens more.

It was Stefani, an Interscope act, who dragged Iovine along to catch the Dolls in action. When he saw them doing their routine, he knew instantly that he had just seen the money shot: here was a girl band just waiting to happen.

Over the next couple of years, Iovine and his minions put together their masterplan. They introduced new Dolls into the line-up, recruited a really strong singer called Nicole Scherzinger ("being raunchy was hard for me at first because I was a small-town Catholic girl, but this group helped me be more comfortable with myself") and began placing the band on various TV shows as part of a dastardly plan for world domination.

Songs were tried out, angles were perfected and clothing was discarded as the Dolls readied themselves for the chart catwalk. While all of this was going on, there was probably little discussion about the impact a crew of gyrating dancers would have on feminist theories and arguments.

Melody Thornton says she hasn't read Female Chauvinist Pigs. Of course, this Pussycat Doll knows about the book. The title has started to crop up in interviews and she has heard all about it by now. But she has no intention of dissing the book or even trying to figure out how the Dolls fit into Levy's raunch culture: "We try not to pay much attention to all the negative energy we get from these feminists." Next question.

Thornton is polite, but she's also a smart cookie. What's the point of getting involved in a prolonged bout of name-calling with some other women when there are records to sell, people to greet and new dance moves to learn? Thornton didn't hightail it out of Phoenix, Arizona a few years back just to get involved in some sort of feminism empowerment trip. No, no, no, that's not what being a Pussycat Doll is about. Life as a Doll, trills Thornton, is fabulous. "Oh man, it's so crazy and cool and fantastic," she insists at least six times in the space of a few minutes.

Thornton is the odd Doll out because she's the only one who came into the group via an open audition in 2003. "I heard that the band were looking for singers on MTV and I went along for the audition. When I walked into the room, I wanted my confidence to come across. I wasn't nervous because I knew I could sing so I decided I should mimic the concept of the Dolls to get noticed. It wasn't easy because I couldn't dance. Once I sang, though, people paid attention."

Thornton doesn't know what she would have done if she hadn't got the gig. She certainly wasn't going back to that college psychology course she had started. Being in a band and involved with music is all she ever wanted to do. "I wanted to find a way to incorporate music into my life somehow. No matter what happened, I wanted to be able to put together and release an album at some stage."

The idea of doing something with like-minded souls back in Phoenix never occurred to her. "No, I never considered putting together a band in Phoenix. See, I didn't like performing with other people. I'd be in these talent shows, but I never liked teaming up with other people. I guess it was because they took away from me."

The first thing Thornton had to do was learn how to dance. "I'm the only one in the band who's not a trained dancer. Some of the other girls were dancing since they were three. They were dancing before they could put together a full sentence. I think I'm a pretty good dancer now, I'm not, like, terrible."

The next thing she had to do was collect her wages. Thanks to a very interesting panel discussion at this year's South By Southwest festival in Texas, we know that the Dolls are employees of their record label. Unlike most groups, then, the Dolls don't get their hands directly on the cash from merchandise deals, advertisement slots or live shows. Unlike other groups, it will be the label that decides if and when a Doll is past her sell-by date and must be replaced.

Thornton seems a little thrown that these details about the most manufactured band in pop history are out there in the public domain. "I'm, uhm, not sure . . . uhm, you know I don't know if I can talk about that. I mean, there's a lot of people involved. There's Robin, who created the band, there's the label and there's the six of us. It's a lot of people to share with."

But the terms of employment go much further than just taking a pay packet from the label. There's the fact that the Dolls didn't get anywhere near the table when the songs for their debut album were being selected (that was left to executive producer Ron Fair).

Thornton was not asked if she wanted to do a Brian McFadden and contribute a few songs. ("Growing up, all I did was write, but none of the songs have appeared anywhere yet," she says.) And, if you look closely at the album credits, you'll spot the line: "all lead and background vocals by Nicole Scherzinger". The others, apparently, didn't get a look in.

"I knew what I was signing up for," says Thornton. "The main reason why I headed out for the auditions was that I heard they had a record deal. That appealed to me."

But the records are just one part of the Pussycat proposition. Like all labels dealing with the new realities of the music industry, Interscope knows that merchandising the brand is where the real action is. That's why it's prepared to sell the Dolls and the Pussycat brand to whoever has the cash to spend.

Estée Lauder and Caesars Palace in Las Vegas were the first to open their chequebooks. Then Hasbro turned up. The toymaker announced plans to create dolls modelled on the Dolls, right down to the underwear-as-out wear attire. Hasbro said the toys would be aimed at six- to nine-year-olds.

All hell broke loose. Outraged parents rang their local Joe Duffy and the dolls were scrapped. Hasbro naturally blamed the record company - "Interscope's current creative direction and image for the recording group are focused on a much older target than we had anticipated at the time of our original discussions." Interscope said nothing and waited for the next corporation to come along looking for a slice of the Dolls.

Thornton views these events as a bit of a storm in a teacup. "All that we try to do is what we love to do, which is to make music and entertain," she says. "Like, I thought the dolls was a really cool idea."

The Dolls just want to have fun, but all these pesky other issues keep coming up to knock them off their stride. Thornton sighs. It's obvious that these are the questions that will come up again and again. She has an answer, but you wonder if this is what she really thinks about her life as a Doll.

"Of course, we are mindful that we are role models and we always try to influence children, especially young girls, to be strong and confident within themselves. We like to encourage young girls to look to the Dolls for inspiration in how to be feminine. But that's all we do, nothing more."

Pussycat Dolls support Take That at the RDS, Dublin on June 28th