These nutcracker heads were very popular in the 1950s. You hold a nut in the mouth and twist the notched wooden peg that comes through the bottom until it squeezes the nut so tight that shells spew out like machine gun fire. Handy but messy so wear protective goggles while attending to nuts!
Oftentimes glorifying politically incorrect characters, this breed of nutcrackers usually consisted of carvings of personality types with notoriously big mouths like the sailor on leave you see here.
Although just about every transistor radio made in the ’50s and ’60s was completely gorgeous, the rarer ones shaped like flying saucers were my favorites. Made in Hong Kong, this Realtone is rare among the popular brands’ models that bore Space Age names like Galaxy and Electras but usually came in more traditional rectangular shapes like this:
Made in Hong Kong, my baby still hums like the day it was born. Turn the plastic thumbwheel and music blasts through the portals on the bottom as though the soundwaves could have propelled this spacecraft right off the kidney shaped coffee table it most likely sat on.
I love pens in the shape of things but none more so than this souvenir writing implement from Washington made of plastic in the 1950’s. I don’t know if it’s the first leg or only leg of the trip but the shape of the foot is so perfect to end in a pen point. Although I can’t remember where it was from, either Washington DC or Florida, I had one of these as a kid and loved using it so much I credit it with being part of the reason I became a writer.
Giving equal time today to Dr. Ben Casey as yesterday was Dr. Kildare’s day. Ben Casey was actually my first love. I swooned over his swarthy, dark looks and, truth be told, collected more Casey than Kildare. Although I acquired this actual pair of 3D lenticular “Ben Casey As Portrayed By Vincent Edwards Cuff Links” at Chic-A-Boom in Hollywood in 1980, I did actually have this exact pair as a kid. They went to school with me almost every day as I became fanatic about wearing blouses with long sleeves and cufflinks holes just so I could have Dr. Casey with me.
These “As seen on ABC Network TV” cufflinks were made by Bing Crosby Productions exclusively for Sears, Gerald Sears Sales Promotion Service, not THE Sears, in 1962.
I collect anything Beatnik, especially when the colloquialisms of the day accompany it. “Like, man, lend me your ear” was in heavy rotation circa 1956, printed on bed sheets, stationery, statues and any other kind of collectibles that could be pushed on the burgeoning newly liberated teen and young adult crowd.
This guy has a “real” mustache and goatee, the kind of furry, feathery stuff they stuck on cats and other ceramic animals in the ’50s and ’60s. But what’s all those black whiskers on his nose?!
Also not sure why the ceramicist portrayed him as an old bald man as the Beat generation represented all that was rebellious about youth. But this incongruity kicks it up a notch on the Kitsch scale so I’m not complaining.
Between Van McCoys’s huge 1975 hit, “The Hustle”, and the proliferation of that decade’s gay clubs and discos, especially in New York and LA, negative connotations of the word ‘hustle’ and its older sister ‘hustling’ melted away in a fog of polyester shirts and glitter eye shadow to become one of the most popular colloquialisms of the day. ‘No Hustling Allowed’ was printed on jean patches, underwear and, thankfully, this mirror as well as anything else that could be sold in a catalog, novelty or souvenir shop.
This baby stands proud at 4″ x 8.5″ and was made in 1974 by Wallace Berrie & Co. of Van Nuys, California, makers of rubber statues, wall plaques and other like-minded toys and promotional items.
I don’t have to tell any self-respecting Kitsch lover about the Parthenon of Kitsch, the Madonna Inn, in San Luis Obispo, California. Appearing like a mirage off the 101, its customized-to-the-brink-of-insanity rooms, pink, pink, pink dining room, not to mention the cheeseburgers and sprinkle cookies in the coffee shop attract me like a magnet whenever I drive up north. Besides, the bathrooms are nutty and always add that extra dimension to a rest stop. The place has such magic powers that any smoke rising from this ashtray is probably pink.
I love my bedroom but there’s no doubt that using this ashtray in the Barrel Of Fun, Canary Cottage, Cave Man, Daisy Mae, Edelweiss, Jungle Rock, Matterhorn, Oriental Fantasy, Time Of Your Life, Wilhelm Tell or any of the other 110 rooms enhances the desired Kitsch effect. To see all of them go here.
Not sure exactly what blend Tony Whan stashed inside when he made Murray Yunkers this jar featuring a removable chef’s cap with holes in it but it’s awfully cute and practical whatever contents it was made for. Though it would seem like a special blend, be it coffee, tea, snuff or whatever, would want to be in something airtight so the holes in the top don’t make much sense.
Maybe it was for something like sugar, flour or grated cheese but there’s no way of securing the hat when the chef is turned over so that makes no sense either.
Standing 9″ high and looking somewhere between professionally made and a lumpy school project, it’s signed “Stole” on the bottom, which also makes no sense seeing as the cap clearly says it was made by Tony Whan. Perhaps Tony “stole” the bottom part from “Stole” and only made the top.
I guess Tony Whan was in his own little world making something special for Murray Yunkers and I guess I’ll never know what exactly it was made to hold but I’m happy I have this happy little chef to make me think about both of them every time I walk in my kitchen.
With as many taco trucks as I eat off of and as many meals as I eat in my car, my favorite dining room of all, I can tell you that the Spork, a spoon, fork and knife in one, is one of those indispensable instruments of life that comes in handy time and time again. And just like another modern-day marvel, the Snuggie, it’s both practical and kitschy, the penultimate combination in contemporary Kitsch.
Made in Sweden by Light My Fire, the Spork is heat resistant, “Teflon ready” (whatever that means – isn’t it either Teflon or not?!) and machine washable.
I hope to never be without my Spork.
These Party Pickers were all the rage in the 1950s – women poised to fulfill male fantasies, their high heels spiking popular canapés like Pigs In Blankets, Bacon Wrapped Olives and other fanciful party faire born in modern kitchens powered by the postwar Atomic mentality of style and convenience.
My favorite thing about these Pickers is how the end of the women’s hair pokes out from behind her shoulder almost looking like another arm. Or maybe the end of a scarf. Or maybe just another sharp point to spike a raisin, caper or some other miniscule hors d’oeuvre enhancement.
