I’ve been blessed this past week to have great friends grace my bedside and nurse me through knee surgery, dressing up as nurses themselves for my amusement. Nancye Ferguson was one such nurse in training as I took my first steps a couple of days ago:

As nice as Nancye’s medical uniform is – a shower cap from the 99¢ store and paint mask and gloves from Home Depot – it’s nowhere near as up to code as nurse Jean Craig’s:

But as up to code as nurse Jean Craig’s education may have been to earn a graduate degree, there’s actually very little mention of it or anything else medical in this book. In fact, most of the time at Gallop Memorial Hospital Jean’s eyes are focused more on romance than on a heart monitor:

In fact, one of the only prominent mentions of illness is on Page 1:

Some of Jean’s time in Elmhurst, Conn. was spent drawing:

I wish there were more drawings in this book but sadly, in 1950, the World Publishing Company of Cleveland and New York only sprung for graphics on the cover and one across from the title page:

Even the back of the book is vacant of Jean, though there is some medical specimen from the book’s previous owner present:

Luckily, no strange medical specimens have impeded my progress and I’m happy to report that I have been hobbling around sans crutches for most of the day yesterday and today. My knee is an almost open and shut case for speedy recovery!

With a mind to sanitary conditions, Nurse Jean and her fellow graduates wore nice, long uniforms that covered their knees.

Which means they never had to worry about having a knee that looked like mine this past week:

Thankfully, Nurse Jean and Nurse Nancye’s services are close to never being needed again as my left leg is looking forward to returning to its former lovely self within days!

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Join me and Hidden Los Angeles and send a Valentine’s Day card to Milly Del Rubio. Details below.

Anyone who knows me knows that two of the most important things in the world to me are music and kitsch. Songs I’ve written have sold over 50 million records and, to the best of my knowledge, I have the largest collection of kitsch artifacts in the world. Discovering The Del Rubio Triplets in 1985 is easily the jewel in my musical kitsch crown.

I first saw the Del Rubios in 1985 on a flyer that said “Three Gals/ Three Guitars…We play 375 different kinds of music”. I didn’t even know there was 375 different kinds of music but between that and the mini skirted, go-go booted, platinum hair helmeted madness of their photo I called them immediately and made plans to go to a party they were playing at that weekend.

My party date was Katey Sagal a.k.a. Peg Bundy. The breath was literally knocked out of both of us when the triplets opened the door to the porta potty-like shed that was their dressing room and we beheld the most magnificent  vestiges of human kitsch we had ever seen. I didn’t care what they sounded like, I knew they had to sing my songs.

Out of the 375 different types of music the Del Rubios played, conspiculously missing was Rock or anything remotely contemporary. I told them that playing “today’s” music was going to be their rocket to stardom and said that if they learned my song, “Neutron Dance”, a huge hit by the Pointer Sisters at the time, I would hire them to play at a party I was throwing in a couple weeks to open a new club downtown called The Stock Exchange.

And so they preformed for 2000 of my closest friends, all of whom stood gaped-mouthed as the 65+ year old minskirted sisters gave much leg and warbled from a balcony 20 feet above the crowd.

No one had ever seen or heard anything like it before, the triplets perfectly in tune with each out-of-tune other, playing similarly out-of-tune guitars and smacking drum solos on the sides of their instruments. As they plowed into “Neutron Dance” I looked down and saw the crowd parting to make room for a mound of hair that was pushing to the front. I realized that the moment I had always waited for, the ultra smashing together of the high and low ends of music into one perfectly mangled moment of musical expression, was upon me! As the Del Rubios finished the song, Ruth Pointer, who sang lead on “Neutron Dance”, wove her way up the circular staircase and ripped into the song again. With her help, The Del Rubio Triplets had ARRIVED:

For the next few years I did almost nothing without the triplets. They performed at every single party I threw, including a pajama party where they backed Joni Mitchell.

The Del Rubios had long told me that their main competition back in the day was The Andrews Sisters. But when Maxine Andrews showed up at the pajama party it was the first she’d heard of them.

In 1987, my song, “What Have I Done To Deserve This?”, was a hit with Pet Shop Boys and Dusty Springfield. Neil and Chris were obsessed with the triplets and always wanted to do a duet with them. The Del Rubios preformed the song when it was #2 on the Billboard charts at my “What Have I Done To Deserve This Art?” opening.

The video I made of them performing it there expired when I left it on the front seat of my Studebaker Commander in a heat wave but here’s the outro of them singing the song on the Victoria Looseleaf show a couple of years later:

In 1991, they were a complete hit at my “Smock It To Me (Art Can Taste Bad In Any Medium)” party where they entertained a plethora of show business luminaries. There’s pieces of “Neutron Dance” and “Whip It” with Devo lead, Mark Mothersbaugh, accompanying them at 3:14 here:

Once I called legendary record exec, Clive Davis, and told him I had made the most significant  talent discovery of my career. I loaded the Del Rubios into a van and drove to the Beverly Hills Hotel. Clive opened the door to his bungalow, took one look at them, hugged me and whispered in my ear, ”You owe me big time”.

In 1989 there was a fairly substantial earthquake in LA. It was before I learned the beauty of museum wax to stop things from falling and hundreds of precious kitsch and Atomic 50’s artifacts lay smashed on the floor. As such, I was in a complete fog and almost didn’t hear the doorbell when it rang. I thought it was one of my neighbors offering to turn the gas back on but instead it was Eadie, Elena and Milly, replete in matching fuscha mini party dresses and their ever present white go-go boots, ready for an interview I was doing with them for  Details Magazine, where I had my own column through much of the ’80s.

Throughout the years, I spent a lot of time in the Del Rubio’s mobile home.

They stayed up every night drinking one martini each and sewing their costumes, of which they had hundreds, all miniskirts or mini dresses, one nuttier and more fringe filled than the next. Every night once the sewing was done they would plan new arrangements on their trusted toy Emenee organ, the keys of which had all been stuck for at least three years when I met them, the victim of a spilled jug of martinis. I asked them why they never cleaned the keys so the organ actually made some sound and they always assured me they “could hear it perfectly fine the way it was”.

I documented much of our escapades in the aforementioned Details interview. The 27 page cut-down-to 3 page interview – the girls were excessive gabbers – helped expose them to a national audience and  they went on to appear on tons of TV shows including  multiple Lettermens, Arsenio Hall, Pee Wee’s Christmas Special, The Golden Girls and on and on.

The Del Rubio Triplets did everything in the order they were born. There were only 15 minutes separating each of them but Eadie was clearly the oldest, always standing on the left, Elena, born next, was always in the middle and Milly, the youngest, was always on the right. They sat in this order, ate at the table in that order, went to the bathroom each morning in that order, preformed on stage in that order and even slept in the same bed in that order.

As fate would have it, the Del Rubios also died in that order, Eadie  departing in 1996 with Elena following four years later. Milly is thankfully still with us.

I’ve written and worked with some amazing singers over the years, Bob Dylan, James Brown, Aretha, Cyndi Lauper, Patti LaBelle and Earth, Wind & Fire among them. But none swept me away with as much gusto as The Del Rubio Triplets. We should all be blessed with such belief in self and joy for what we do. They never questioned their talent, never suffered a creative block, never got tired of performing for adoring audiences who greeted them with laughter, which they always said was “better than applause”.

That last photo, from their 1995 Christmas card, is typical of the Del Rubios who were freaks about maintaining order and tradition. Even though they’re perched out of their usual order, with Milly now on the left and Eadie on the right, they signed their names in the order they were most used to, with Milly on the right and Eadie on the left. I never asked them whether they knew that they were signing under the wrong triplet.

Valentines Day is coming up and I’d love nothing more than to shower Milly with thousands of Valentine’s Day cards. So please join me and Hidden Los Angeles and send a Valentines Day card to Milly Del Rubio, c/o Allee Willis, 11684 Ventura Blvd., Suite 430, Studio City, CA 91604. With all that love pouring in and Milly seeing that she’s still getting her props maybe we can get her to pick up her guitar one last time.

When I first looked at this Chinese import from the Dollar Store I thought that it was much too straightforward to qualify as a product I love because of really bad translations on the packaging. But then I saw that the spelling of Protective had mutated to ProteEtive. So I started nosing around the packaging and found that it very much lived up to my high expectations for cheap products coming from the Orient.

Although I’ve never heard a clothing garment bag referred to as a “Dust Protective Set” let alone a “Dust ProteEtive Set”, it’s pretty clear to me that these are, in fact, garment bags. However, I’m really not sure how I’m supposed to be “sweeping neat” or what the act of sweeping has to do with anything proteetive anyway.

Similarly, I’m very happy that “the dust protective defends the tide” but I’m not sure what the ocean has to do with anything. And the cover of a “Dust Protective Set” doesn’t seem to be the right place to start a song lyric. I’m also grateful that my new garment bags are “beautiful generous” though I prefer those qualities in people. I almost thought that the last selling point was about to make sense but ultimately am much happier about the forgotten ‘c’ in “practial convenience” than if these people had enough money to hire a skilled translator.

As far as the graphic goes, I understand the garment bag and the suit that goes in it but I’m not sure what that loaf of bread looking green thing is doing there.

Perhaps it’s just another illustration of the proteetive bag lying prone to show you that it can be  overstuffed, or oversteefed, with clothes. I do hope that the bags themselves are constructed better than the title of the product, though I would never rip the plastic to get them out as I’m far more concerned with proteeting the sanctity of the Proteetive packaging than I am about proteeting my clothes.

Thank you, aKitschionado Margaret Lewis, for your generous contribution of one Dust Proteetive Set to the physical collection of The Allee Willis Museum Of Kitsch at AWMOK.com!

99¢  and discount stores in general are fabulous all year round but there’s no question that the season they shine most at is Christmas, when all stops are pulled out and the shelves are packed with more crap than even a kitsch loving aKitschionado such as myself can absorb. These stores at this season offer the perfect storm of circumstances for me, especially as I needed some Christmas arts and crafts supplies to make Pigmy Will Christmas ornaments.

So I got my head together to stand in line as these severe discount stores are the kind of places where there are five or six cash registers but only one or two staffed at a time. But despite the long lines and shelves stuffed with misplaced items because people change their minds on the go and stick things anywhere, it’s always a delight to see what’s offered at this most special time of the year. Here are a few of the things that crossed my eyeballs within the first 10 minutes of walking into two such establishments in North Hollywood, CA.

This seems like an awful lot of plaster or whatever these things are made out for four little hooks:

This looks like it was made by someone who’d drunk too much Red Bull and was let loose in a crafts store:

This kind of kitsch scares me:

Could there be any more going on in this frame to take away from a photo?

I know that this Stocking Wave-Cap is impressive but what I want for Christmas is that foot shaped emery board next to it:

I’m buying everyone on my list a “snug and comfy” non-Snuggie-looks-just-like-a-Snuggy Fuzzy Wuzzy:

And maybe some Elvis in a can…:

I bought ten Elvises in a popcorn filled guitar.

Forget about the doggie Santa suits; I like that pink coat with the fur collar down in the bottom right corner:

I didn’t know that Barbra Streisand had her own line of beauty products:

If the best thing you can say about your pantyhose is that they are “Beautifully  effective” I’m not even excited about them being Velvet.

As if there already wasn’t enough of this in the world, we don’t need more of it at a buck a pop:

And whoever buys this, please take me to your home and let me see what other supreme kitsch you have inside:

If you were kitschilousciously koncious this Christmas shopping season you could have everything on this page for under 100 clams. May you have a excellent 99¢++ Christmas!

Any bottle of Concorde grape looks more Hanukah with this cheesy little so-much-silver-glitter-you-could-scrape-your-finger-on-it Jewish star vest.

Complete with bow tie, this Wine Butler, “Fine threads for your whites & reds…”,  was manufactured in 1995 for the Perfectly Packaged Corporation, who even has a patent on the thing.

Though my garb was nowhere near as festive as this bottle’s I, myself, was once swathed in Jewish stars when I dressed as a rabbi for Halloween in 1982.

As it’s the last day of Hanukah, it’s now time to retire the wine wardrobe until next year.

Happy last day of Hanukah! May you be well dressed throughout the year.

As Thanksgiving week is upon us I will never forget the trauma of being invited to Luther Vandross’s Thanksgiving Day dinner and having to leave before the smothered turkey was ready, only to arrive at my next destination and having a plate of salmon plopped in front of me. NEVER  put a fish in front of a Thanksgiving guest unless you warn them first if you ever want to see them again! In that particular case, I developed a sudden headache and left just as quinoa and tofu were about to hit my plate and headed back across town where the table was flooded with the best holiday soul food fixins my stomach ever had the pleasure of ingesting. I bring up this story not just because I’ve learned to make sure the menu is Thanksgiving appropriate before I accept an invitation but because Luther and I often discussed the fact that Mahalia Jackson had a cookbook and how great it would be to make a total Mahalia Jackson meal.

In 1972, cousin Bennie thought so too.

Unfortunately, the only turkey in Mahalia’s cookbook is for pot pie.  But many other festive recipes abound.

All the photographs are fantastic, none of the actual food itself but, rather, of Mahalia  performing cooking tasks in excellent outfits.

We  even learn how to turn the oven on…

… and open the oven door.

The excellence of Mahalia’s bouffant is clearly evident in the photo above. As such, I wish Mahalia’s head was lit better in this photo so it didn’t look like it was part of the kitchen cabinet:

Mahalia also offers some kitchen tips, though I’m not sure how much I would trust the cook who’s concerned about either of these while cooking:

I have a lot of work to do today. Otherwise I might spend it trying to find the perfect recipe to make for the person who force fed me salmon one Thanksgiving. Maybe this…

I’ve seen political enthusiasm expressed on cars before but it’s usually more in the way of stickers. This jewel encrusted license plate cover and insignia demand far more of a commitment to their candidate on behalf of the driver. Upon closer inspection however, it appears that this is a company car and the real commitment is to selling more bling.

I wish the taillights were jeweled as well.

Get out and VOTE today!

Here’s a video tour of my trip to visit Dona Miller, President of Vogue International, a 22,000 square foot wonderland  of mannequin bodies and parts in The City of Industry, CA. You can’t believe how massive this place is and what a science there is to mannequins.  Enjoy the video!

Hope you are having a big, bulging mannequin Monday!

It’s been dripping for days in LA. I used to spend so much time looking for my umbrella, the rain would end before I even made it outside. So began my umbrella collection. Of course, then I could never bring myself to use any of the vintage ones I collected because they would get ruined in the rain. So I started buying a bunch of cheap ones, of which this lipstick umbrella, picked up at the 99¢ store about 10 years ago, was one of my favorites. But it’s soooooo cheap that the first time it rained after I bought it I never got it to fold up again to fit back into the cheap white plastic tube. Soooooo cheap that even just lying in my purse the tube got poked full of holes from my pens. So I tossed my crippled lipstick umbrella out and headed back to the 99¢ store where I bought the last one on the shelf and committed to never opening it so I could preserve its lipstick loveliness. This became a persistent problem every time it rained as I struggled whether I should get my one-time-only use out of the umbrella or preserve it for my kitsch collection as I was also always the type to leave my umbrella at whatever destination I happened to be in should the weather have cleared before I left to come home.

Everything changed when I started buying golf umbrellas. This started when I was spending so much time in New York for my musical, The Color Purple, and had to schlep around computers, keyboards, books and whatever else it took to emulate my studio and work habits back in LA. What a revelation the golf umbrella was! All of a sudden, I didn’t need to decide whether the back half or front half of me was going to get wet or whether my body would stay dry but I’d sacrifice my purse or backpack to the elements. As long as you had a hand to carry it or a way of balancing it against some body part, a golf umbrella was like having your own private building move with you. Of course, it’s ideal to be of a certain height and you MUST have street sense while using it, but for me this was definitely the way to go. These days I always have enough golf umbrellas at any one time that I never again have to worry about losing my umbrella.

Which means that I don’t have to disrupt the sanctity of the not-really lipstick umbrella by removing its plastic tube. Or having to deal with its un-ergonomically designed the little lipstick nub handle once its opened.

If you see anyone walking around LA today looking like this it’s me.