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There are many things I love about this “Italy” fashion emporium in Van Nuys, California:

• The thoughtfully placed swathed-in-jeweled-look-denin-jeans torso-less mannequin so that her ass is facing incoming  customers and hogging up much of the walkway.

• The only entrance to the store being from the crowded parking lot in back.

• The accent traffic cone.

•  The Hush Gentleman’s Club sign on the roof adding even more exterior elegance.

•  The big sale for 1 suit, 1 shirt and 1 tie for $99 despite there being no evidence of men’s clothing inside.

• The bar outside:

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• The decidedly tropical, nowhere near Rome mural painted on the side of the store.

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But more than anything, it’s the jeweled-look jeans at the end of the store’s asphalt carpet that race the distinctly non-Italian named Virgil’s the final mile up the mountaintop of Kitsch.  Dotted with paint, the glittering rhinestone patterns are sure to glisten forever, insuring the classy Virgil’s vibe stay with each and every discerning customer long after she leaves the parking lot.

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There’s nothing more I like to throw on my head to protect it from a raging shower stream than a shower cap covered with T-bone steaks. I wish it were more of a meat directory up there but, alas, despite giving the cap the general category name of “meat” only the lonely T-bone made it to immortality.

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I found this elegant “Deluxe” shower cap a few years ago when I was looking for party souvenirs. There they were, 30,000 glistening meat caps for sale at some online overstocks place for 15¢ each.  I was so excited my teeth started chattering as if I had been locked in the freezer with a side of beef for days. It took all my strength not to figure out a way to get all 30,000 of them. $450 would buy me enough meat chapeau souvenirs for a lifetime. But I behaved and held myself to 300 so I had enough money left to concentrate on the real beef that guests could put in their mouths and not on their heads.

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I’ve won many awards in my lifetime. Finally becoming FDA approved is right up there with the best of them.

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This “For A Great Guy” cup is large enough to hold enough steaming brew for Dad to sip and ponder the wonderfulness of fatherhood as exhibited on these astounding LP covers featuring families all fluffed and coiffed for their musical debuts.  I thank the following families for looking and dressing so good as to commemorate Dad’s magnificent power to pop out the little ones who support their fathers no matter how misguided their appearance decisions may be.

On this LP cover Dad can feel like it’s Christmas all year round when he wears his new robins egg blue polyester jacket and whatever’s in that box. My only wish is that he had more hair so he could have the same flat-as-a-landing-strip haircut his son does.

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I’m happy to see the lavender-tinged Gill family celebrating Dad by wearing matching napkins around their neck. Dad’s haircut seems to have inspired all the male Gills except Junior down on the right.  I give him til he’s 12.

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Wow, Dad’s growth hormones definitely worked on the vertical plane.  And mom spent all her afternoons studying the Kennedy women in Life Magazine.

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The entire Einert family has excellent head shapes for the follicular style that atops them.  Mommy’s hair looks like Jiffy Pop and Bill and Jim’s ties look like they’re made from a tablecloth. I’m serious. Where’s the knot? And why are the Einerts so happy if, in fact, God is slipping away?

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Not at all sure what happened to Daddy here other than he had the good sense to be photographed in front of a fake brick wall.

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Happy Father’s Day to all the sharp dressed men with matching families out there and may you all be sipping something special out of a ginormous Great Guy cup.

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No one loves socks, the most over looked fashion item in the clothing arsenal, more than me. I have hundreds of pairs and they change with every outfit. Easily the cheapest but what should be the best smelling socks in the drawer are these two pairs that are supposed to wreak of Sugar Daddies. But short of stuffing these socks up my nostrils I haven’t detected any such smell or I’d be running out to buy matching pairs of Tootsie Rolls, Blow Pops, Junior Mints, Charms and Dots foot coverings.

I can’t imagine that it would take foot sweat to activate the olfactory function so I’m going to have to assume that these were ill-conceived from the jump as I plucked them straight outta the unopened packages where not a scintilla lot of candy smell remained either.

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Made in 2004 for Designs by Skaffles, Inc. of New York, these 65% Acrylic, 30% Polyester, 4% Spandex, 1% rubber and 0% smelling socks are supposed to retain their scent for 4-5 washings.

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I swear I would love to walk around smelling like a Sugar Daddy but unless these were pre-washed 4-5 times before they were packaged in China the only hint of candy is on the way-too-light-to-read-without-squinting pink label.

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So the socks don’t smell and the label is hard to read.  All of which makes for excellence in Kitsch but, unfortunately, not in socks.

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This 100% genuine  piece of plastic toast wallet looks just like the real thing right down to the butter starting to melt into the cushiony fake leather wonderfulness of it all. It feels like  a big marshmallow in your hands and makes pulling out endless streams of cash a slightly more pleasant procedure.

Made in China for Accoutrements, the wallet is jumbo sized as if it needed to be big enough to accommodate a certifiKitsch of AuthentKitschity to vouch for the legitimacy of each dollar extracted from it.

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Maybe it’s a psychological thing to make you feel like there’s a never ending well of money tucked inside. One way or another, I like keeping this little snack in my purse. Sometimes I alternate with my other favorite wallet that’s more normal sized though still inedible but goes well with the toast wallet.

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The bacon wallet even has matching shoes:

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The toast wallet has no such matching ensemble but should it ever get cold enough here in LA I swear it’s large enough that I could tuck my hands into the marshmallowy flaps and stay warm.

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This vintage cleaning product can may be a little worse for wear but so am I as I hobble around my house shining it back up to its usual state after a couple hundred people trounced through here yesterday in celebration of John Lloyd Young’s debut exhibition featuring his very first works of Kitsch Pop art. I love that cleaning products in aerosol cans were so new when this came out in the 1950s that it was made of silicones (more than 1!) and was referred to as the “push-button cleaner”.

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John Lloyd might be referred to as the “push-rhinestone artist”. He does phenomenal work jeweling everyday food products like a box of Cornflakes, a can of Spam and a bucket of the Colonel’s favorite.

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Most of the food appearing as bejeweled art was actually served at the party. If you had a couple minutes to spare we would even toast you a Pop Tart.

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I’m sick that I didn’t take a photo of the gigantic three-foot round pizzas that arrived to match this piece John Lloyd made of himself holding his Tony for  Best Actor in a Musical for Jersey Boys (trouncing my own musical, The Color Purple, I might add) surrounded by a melange of Tony’s Pizza boxes.

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The intricate jeweling doesn’t read well in the longshot so here’s a close up of the pie:

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I won’t see all the photos from the party which was a benefit for AIDS Project LA until later today but here are a smattering of some a friend snapped until I post the real deals tomorrow.

Honoree and hostess:

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Michael Lerner, me, RuPaul and Charles Phoenix:

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Stu James, Lesley Donald (Both in The Color Purple), me, JLY and Jai Rodriguez:

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Prudence Fenton, Mark Blackwell and me:

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Mito Aviles, me, Tiffany Daniels (Squeak in The Color Purple) and ChadMichael Morrisette:

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JLY and me and our shows as bejeweled by the artist:

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I need to get  back on my hands and knees and start cleaning so I’m ready to look through the real photos when they arrive later today.  Thankfully, the Bonami can contains handy instructions for how to use the contents:

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An excellent sign of Kitsch is when names are bent and mutated to fit a purpose.  This one’s a perfect blend – The ever-Italian Mouseketeer, Annette, with the perfect name (and flip hairdo) to add that guaranteed-to-be-cheesy ‘ette’ onto the end of something to assure its kitschified status.

Annette Funicello’s embroidered blouse may be as snappy as her fingers but nothing’s knocking me more out than her perfectly painted lips. About 20 years ago I was in a thrift shop. It was pouring rain, perfect conditions to hit the outside bargain area where they’ll practically give away things for free on a rainy day just to not have to deal it after.  There was a canvas lying face down on the ground. There was no chance it was going to be good as even if something fabulous was painted on it it was surely now melted from soaking in the bathtub sized puddles. But lo and behold, when I turned it over I almost melted myself. It was a hand-painted portrait of Annette, nary a hair askew, colors as vibrant as the day her ever-present smile popped out of the womb.  And even better, there was a cut out photo of her lips pasted next to her on the canvas and in large childlike scroll this autograph in lipstick:  “To Tony, Lots of luck to you always! Love, Annette”.

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This portrait deserves a lot more than a quick mention in a post about something else, even something as great as “Italiannette”. So I merely show it here as evidence that my story above is true as the autographed portrait is deserving of its own Kitsch O’ The Day exploration which will happen someday soon. I think I’m going to put on “Italianette” and enjoy looking at it even more right now.

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With 3D all the rage today many people forget that the first ubiquitous mass consumer experience with the technology was with View-Masters.  Introduced in 1962, one could view seven 3D images as they spun around on a paper disc creating lifelike reality inside the mouse hole of two eyepieces. The earliest View-Masters featured popular tourist attractions like this one of Miami Beach, where I first started buying these.

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When I was young my parents drove to Miami Beach from Detroit twice a year.

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We stayed at the Carlyle Hotel.

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I bought every Viewmaster reel of Miami Beach I could find because the Deco architecture drove me so batty. When I had my first hit record I immediately bought a house that reminded me of Miami Beach.

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A frequent visitor to my house is Charles Phoenix, one of my best friends and Kitschmaster General of vintage slide shows and books featuring insanely on-the-nose location and human examples of living wheels of brie.  The last time he came over, Charles gave me a lesson in how to bake one of his signature Cherpumples, a cake with three pies stuffed inside of it.  As soon as I get done editing the footage we shot I will post our instructional film.

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Something like the Cherpumple with M&Ms bubbling out of the pepto -bismolian-pink frosting and utensils at rest would make an excellent 3D photo if only we had the right camera.

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Yesterday, I went downtown with Prudence Fenton, Nancye Ferguson and Jim Burns and saw Charles’ first ever all 3D retro slide show.

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We learned a lot about how 3-D photography and View-Masters came into being.

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We saw a lot of families in the 50’s learning how to not only use their View-Masters but make their own 3D reels.

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Of course, you won’t be able to see anything clearly because you don’t have your 3-D glasses on. As opposed to this slide from Charles’ show featuring an attractive threesome with a very clear view of the LA freeway when it was built in 1960 standing less than 10 feet away next to oncoming traffic.

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I hope to have a clear view of the week ahead of me although it could go either way. I could feel like an outsider…

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… or I could choose to see the world in super enhanced, bigger than life 3D.

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Thank you, Charles for an excellent afternoon and thank you View-Master for putting 3-D in the palm of our hands.

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Disco is one of my favorite genres of music EVER.  For the most part I love more sophisticated fare (like “Boogie Wonderland”!) but way back in 1975 I fell hard for the sugary pop sweetness of “Get Dancin'” as performed by the ultra-camp and feathery Sir Monti Rock and his Sex-O-Lettes. Co-written by Bob Crewe (Lady Marmalade, “Big Girls Don’t Cry” and just about everything the Four Seasons sang) this song actually had a great melody and background vocals and exemplified the happy state of mental funktitude that Disco made your brain drip with.

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Once again I don the Easter bonnet I made to go to my friend April Winchell’s mother’s house Easter, 1998 where she had a smorgasbord of international foods, the unrecognizable contents of which were festooned with name tags stuck into the dishes on popsicle sticks, an excellent sign if one likes a side of Kitsch with their holidays.

This was the first Easter bonnet I ever wore, modeled with the Sears Easter Bunny in Detroit in 1952.  It was storebought and wasn’t very Eastery. I vowed to have more festive haberdashery after that.

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My current chapeau is made of foamcore, eggs, chicks, peeps, bunnies, roosters, shredded cellophane, bagels and about 10 pounds of hot melt glue. It has held up remarkably well over the years .

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There were recipes for “Eggs In Exciting Ways” from a vintage cookbook under the brim.

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I’m wearing the hat now and having a very Happy Easter.  I hope you are too.