Bright and early the weekend before Thanksgiving Prudence Fenton and I hopped in the mustache van and drove up the coast to San Luis Obispo.

If you’ve never been to The Madonna Inn there, drive, fly, walk, bike, whatever mode of transportation it takes, and go there NOW!

I don’t care where you’ve been to see your architectural kitsch, this is one stop shopping of infinitesimal magnitude. I’ve blogged about this place many a time before but one post, even a hundred, could never cover the staggering detail present on the 2200 acres that appear mirage-like on the side of the 101 freeway.

The whole place was designed by this guy

…. for this lady:

Alex Madonna, a construction magnate and entrepreneur who among other things built the section of the 101 the Inn sits next to, built this palace in 1958. These portraits of Alex and his wife Phyllis’ hang right outside the main dining room.

You need a closer look at that mother of all grape lamps in between them. Eight feet of barrel and the most magnificent assemblage of resin grape clusters anywhere:

This hangs right across the cave from this stairway, one of the subtler ones at The Madonna Inn:

Every time I drive up north taking the 101, I stop at The Madonna Inn to eat. Usually I’m in a hurry and just have time to hit the coffee shop. By the way, coffee always tastes better when the sugar is in one of these two forms, available only here:

The pink crystals and rock formations look especially good on the all copper counter and tabletops…

…which are surrounded by all copper decorative trim…

…which makes sense as this is the name of the coffee shop:

But if I’m not in a hurry to get where I’m going I try to park myself in the main dining room, The Gold Rush Steakhouse. I think you can see why:

Here’s another reason:

That’s one big ol’ slab o’ beef! As an animal lover I  don’t like to think about this but the beef is grown mere feet from the restaurant.  Here I am posing at midnight with the subject of my meal:

I always love a restaurant that starts you off with a relish plate:

Far from the usual celery and carrots and olives, this one has salami and a big brick of cheese thrown on top.  Also thrown in for my birthday festivities was Nancye Ferguson, who drove up to join us.

When it’s your birthday at the Madonna Inn your table is marked with a balloon:

Tables with balloons get free cake for dessert:

I had seen the 9″ high pink champagne cakes in the coffeeshop earlier…

So I got a big hunk of it:

Cake always tastes better when it matches the decor.

It’s even better when the decor is decorated for Christmas.

At this time of year, any place there’s room to stick a Christmas tree at The Madonna Inn there is one:

Angles guard over every table:

Some of the most famous rooms at the Madonna Inn are the bathrooms. The most famous is the men’s room. I finally got the balls to sneak in with Jim Burns, a.k.a. Sgt. Frank Woods in Call Of Duty-Black Ops, who also joined us.

Although the giant clam shell sinks are fantastic…

…the legendary waterfall urinal is the main attraction:

Though sans waterfall, the ladies room next door has its own unique charm:

In another bathroom off of the coffeeshop, little girls get their props.  You can’t tell the scale from this photo but the toilet is teeny tiny tot sized…

…and matches the mini little girl sink in the middle of the big gal facilities:

All of this pales next to the bathroom in The Madonna Suite, where I tended to the needs of my roast-beef-sugared-champagne-caked body.

Here’s a little closer look at the sink, though it’s hard to see detail amidst all the rock. Water trickles down all the troughs dug out of the rock.

A full tour of The Madonna Suite tomorrow…

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“Hey Jerrie”, the video I made with 91 year old female drummer on an oxygen tank, Jerrie Thill, is the little engine that could! Every week since we made it in 2009 the video has steadily grown. With absolutely no promotion since then it steadily gained viewers. Nothing dramatic but inching along a few hundred or thousand every week. Then all of a sudden a couple of weeks ago the numbers started going crazy. Tens of thousands of new views a day to the 1,079,439 it is today!
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I’ve had some videos that have gotten close to the million mark but they’ve mainly loaded on the views in one big chunk around the time of release. But Jerrie, who departed this plane last year, just kept on ticking and crossed over the magic number a couple of nights ago.
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There’s something wonderful about this happening to Jerrie. She had a wonderful career, working steadily since being discovered by Al Capone’s brother while her parents ran gin for the boys during Prohibition. But she never had recognition in the millions or even tens of thousands and the million mark would make her VERY happy indeed.
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More about Jerrie here.

A few Sundays ago, me and the lovely Snappy P, a.k.a. Prudence Fenton, headed down to Two Bunch Palms in Desert Hot Springs, just outside of Palm Springs.

Most people come here for the natural hot springs.  I came for this:

The greatest barbecue I’ve ever seen. Saw it about nine months ago in an email from Modernway, an incredible vintage store on the main drag in Palm Springs, and finally made the trip down to claim it. I was tempted to leave with this as well but my pockets somehow remained zipped:

Though now that I think about it, a sunflower table next to a golf-ball-on-tee BBQ would have made an awfully nice set. But I had spent all my petty cash in Beaumont, a de rigeur vintage stop on the way down from LA, buying things like an exploding Mt. St. Helen’s whisky bottle…

…and an excellent apple ashtray:

Everytime I’m in Palm Springs I take endless photos of the former mayor, Mr. Sonny Bono. I love when statues look absolutely nothing like the person they’re carved to commemorate:

We stayed here, a few miles out of Palm Springs:

Two Bunch is a very private place so I must honor it by not posting any photos. I will say, however, that I’ve always enjoyed the neck-like-a-giraffe-horse waiting patiently outside the men’s room.

And, despite the refrigerator that has rumbled every time I’ve stayed in Villa 2 as well as the air conditioner that’s placed so it directly blows on your head – curious placement for a room in a health spa – I continually go back.

Though relatively little time was spent turning into an iceberg as we immediately headed back into Palm Springs to eat at Circa 59 in the relatively newly refurbished Riviera Hotel.

The last time I walked in this place was about 10 years ago when I was in an art show sponsored by Nancy Sinatra. As her father spent so many years frolicking at the Riviera it seemed only right I participate despite the fact that I had to whip something together overnight. I don’t remember the show being too successful. Maybe my piece would’ve had more impact if it were featured here, just down the block from the Riviera.

Needless to say, I’d love to be invited to a luncheon at the lodge.

The new and improved Riviera is quite a different story than the Dolly Sinatra Lodge. Here are a few shots by way of demonstration:

Those cutout panels are all over the ground floor of the hotel. Orange being my favorite neon color, it definitely set the tone for an excellent evening. As did the seating in the lobby.

There was interesting seating all over the place.

Though none as favorite as this little area that popped up a few times in the grand hallway leading to the restaurant.

I love pearlized leather.

I also love the pool table right across from those couches.

And i really go for the scale of the doors.

There are also great mirrors all over the place.

And a curved walkway to the rest rooms.

Despite a few hiccups like broccoli being undercooked despite sending it back twice and still tasting like a baseball bat and never getting any bread, the food at Circa 59 was pretty good. I totally forgot to take photos of it though so instead you can see my new little knit cap that I also bought in Beaumont as it’s displayed against the high booths in the restaurant.

I hate how that thing is positioned on my head. It has stripes all around the top but just looks like a lumpy muffin here. Speaking of lumpy muffins, they usually go great with fried chicken. But this is the closest I got to fowl, just down the road from Two Bunch:

And this is the closest I got to an elephant, whizzing past this one on the 60 freeway as we headed back to LA:

There was also a dinosaur sighting:

Though perhaps my favorite sighting in Palm Springs was this T-shirt…

…that was across the street from these two plaster guard poodles…

…that was down the block from where I picked up my golf ball bbq.

And that’s what brought us here in the first place.

As soon as I read about this alley in downtown San Luis Obispo I knew I had to hit it. Even with the possibility  of it being underwhelming and gross, an assemblage of decades of wadded-up gum had to be paid homage to by any self-respecting aKitschionado. I’m elated to report that Bubblegum Alley is 15 x 70 solid feet of sheer chewed brilliance!

I love that so many people would participate,…

… some of whom are more eager to be identified than others.

I love that so much ephemera accompanies the saliva sculpture.

Though at quick glance from a distance it could be mistaken for a condom wall.

Just a few blocks away there’s another tableau that looks like like it might have been influenced by the great wall of gum.

Though dexterious, these are thespians balanced on a play rather than wads of gum.

And here’s another textural experience in the neighborhood, a paper plate Christmas tree..

After such a massive consumption of kitsch I always get hungry. Though I could do without the pub part I tend to look for places with names like this…

…or murals like this:

Though it doesn’t seem like Ben Franklin should be be flying any kites near bubblegum walls as one gust of wind and there goes the discovery of electricity. Way too good of a chance of the kite getting stuck on a wad of Bubblicious.

I’m pretty religious about celebrating one’s birthday all day from the strike of midnight through the next 24. Years that I haven’t observed this rule I’ve been miserable. If I’m stuck working I don’t concentrate on the work anyway, too resentful that I didn’t stick to what I had laid down. This year, my festivities are taking place a week late at my favorite place on earth, The Madonna Inn in San Luis Obispo, with the little group I spend each and every birthday with, some of whom joined me on my big night last Thursday at Bar Marmont.

That was just the little hamburger teaser so the day itself, November 10, would not go un-celebrated. But Bar Marmont didn’t happen until 9 PM. so there were many hours to fill with birthday escapedom building up to it. So I spent the day tooling through East LA and beyond photographing my favorite vintage and kitsch spots, eating tacos and picking up treasures at every 98, 99 and dollar store I could find. On my way, I passed many signs like this:

I love handpainted beauty salon signs. Especially because of the portraits, featuring ‘Familiar’ hairstyles of decades gone by, evidently still sculpted inside, and very macho looking men.

I love how massive the male’s head is on this next sign compared to the diminutive female’s that’s sporting the illegitimate hairstyle child of Jane Fonda circa 1967 and me for the last 2 1/2 decades:

Even more than bad art on beauty salon signs I love when a nice Grecian pillar holds up nothing:

Especially if the windows around it lead to nothing but brick.

Windows aren’t the only thing I like painted on walls:

A nice ghoulish girl in the middle of a desert dressed in trashy lingerie sucking on a can of beer is nice too. And I always love a nice family painted on windows. This one kills me because look how perfectly the actual table outside fits in with the grill that silicon-injected mama is cooking on for her family in the mural:

I think you need a closer look at silicon-injected mama. Of course, her upper torso hogs all the attention but can we discuss the size of her thighs and how, if her entire body were painted, she would be 14 feet tall?

It’s always a nice touch when something that should be one word is split up into two. Especially if one of the syllables is ‘high’ and it’s painted to preserve symmetry so that one enters the mar-ket.

I love when letters are missing from signs:

One doesn’t have to look far to discover the mystery here. What’s missing from church is a ‘u’.

One of my favorite genres of signs are these 1950’s style ones on a stylus that contain many different signs to make up one master one.

 

This one is very faded but I love motels so much that I always like when each letter earns its own space:

In its heyday, this one must’ve been a killer:

And I always love when these sectioned signs end up in a 1960 cascade of lights at the top:

I agree that softserve ice cream is important enough to cap off this honey:

Of course, when a sign is carved into the shape of what it is that they’re selling inside it always gets extra points:

But perhaps no sign has had a more pervasive effect on the American culture and landscape than this:

The very first McDonald’s in the world, built in 1953 and featuring Speedee the Chef, is still standing and serving today in Downey, CA.

I don’t know what this structure is hidden behind the fence right next to it but I’m hoping it was some kind of gas station where burger-chompers could fill up their tanks and ingest fumes from the gorgeous 1950’s chariots they were being served in.

Now here’s something I would love to get my hands on. I’m sure Norms was no competition for the almighty McDonald’s just a block away, but this little Dutch-gone-Atomic structure with the big saltshaker tower in the middle was probably what I would have steered toward if given the option back in the day:

I passed a ton of stunning and thankfully still standing architecture on my drive, like this old movie theater very close to the ch rch a few photos back.

The new slapped-on colors are oh so wrong and it’s a shame that a construction company inhabits this instead of a projector and an incredible candy counter, but at least all the details have been preserved

I’m incredibly partial to Deco architecture because I live in such a structure. That these two buildings are still standing on Soto Street is a wonder of anti-wrecking ball nature:

Just as impressive as gorgeous architecture is gorgeous foliage, especially when carved into the shape of  what the architecture holds inside.

I’m not sure if the Del Rio Lanes in Downey is new or old. Although the architecture screams 1950s, the paint looks brand spanking new, refurbished in a way that a Marge’s or Ruby’s diner looks old but is inescapably and cheesily retro new.

The sign looks like the real thing but then there’s something again about the way it’s painted that makes me think otherwise:

None of that really matters to me because they have the good sense to keep the bushes appropriately trimmed:

When it comes to appropriate landscaping. There’s nothing I like better than a nice burger, fries and a coke up on the roof:

 

I’m not sure why the hot dogs escaped sculptural interpretation…

…but they make an excellent roofline nonetheless:

Last but certainly not least, I love a company that sells one thing but moves into a building that represents an entirely different thing in the same genre. This is where I’d want to go if I was interested in cement blocks as a fence, not chain-link.

Even better, what does the elephant have to do with anything??

Perhaps it’s there to remind me that elephants have extraordinary memories, and that I should always remember what a blessed life I have in that I understand that all these things that have crossed my eyeballs through all these years are gifts to make me smile and remember that one thing I love about life so much is that people get to express themselves in all different ways. And most of them make me happy. Which is a nice thing to experience every day but especially on your birthday.

Just about as cheesy as you can get, Disco Dancer is a symphony of tragic mistakes. From his hairdo…

…to his little Disco outfit with the lopsided shoulders…

…to the threads hanging out and plastic body parts that don’t quite fit together…

… to his clothes that weren’t even finished before they stuffed him in the box…

… to the fact that he has no pants. Disco Dance is sheer Kitsch perfection.

I love his flat little hands.

Despite the fact that he’s obviously meant to move…

…and there’s a button to push to get him to do so…

… Disco Dancer was dead on arrival, brand new out of the box. Poor little Disco Dancer.  Dispite the fact that you have your best shoes on…

…it’s time to leave the Disco and head home…

…to Japan.

If you’ve got the good taste to be a regular reader of my blog, you know how much I enjoy my Sunday drives with Charles Phoenix.  As much of a kitsch enthusiast and expert as myself, our trips occur at a higher level than just sightseeing. They’re fact-packed, full of junk and ethnic food, and meeting the people who create the great kitsch the first place. A couple of Sundays ago we headed down LaBrea towards LAX. I always love taking that route because we get to pass this building. Too far for me to go to get my clothes cleaned but I can never get enough of the color scheme or the atomically-poked cement blocks.

A couple miles down, after you swing right on Stocker heading toward La Tiera, we reach our first destination, the legendary Pann’s, coffeeshop extraordinaire that has blessedly escaped the dreaded wrecking ball that all too frequently swings around LA.

You can tell from the sign that this place is the real deal. At night, everything white lights up turquoise.

This has to be one of the longest continuous lunch counters left in LA. You can’t see a bunch of it in this photo but it’s that great tufted white leather that makes eating a cheeseburger while parked upon it even more pleasurable.

All of the light fixtures are original. The overhang isn’t bad either.

These long slim tube lights are directly across from the counter.

And these sconces pepper the rock walls.

I’m not going to say much more about Pann’s now as it deserves its own post. But I will say that we were there the day before Halloween and I always love a pumpkin whose features aren’t carved but drawn on.

Should you go to Pann’s, get the fried chicken.

And definitely top it off with this:

Upon exiting any restaurant it’s lipstick reload time. I also take any opportunity to get my 1950’s pizza purse into as many photos as possible.

Continuing on, Charles and I were too stuffed to partake of the treasures inside Randy’s.

So we headed down Crenshaw past this excellent 60’s building:

A closer look at the details:

This building a little east of Crenshaw isn’t bad either.  Don’t miss the plaster boot kickin it on the facade.

After 63 years, Sparkling Cleaners finally closed.  The sign has been picked dry…

…but the structure with that great rounded overhang and freestanding letters is still intact.

Churches aren’t supposed to discriminate:

Speaking of churches, one of the grandaddies in LA is the Academy, on Crenshaw and Manchester:

Designed in 1939  by S. Charles Lee, this is as original and beautiful today as the day it opened.

Original details like these still exist:

And that’s just outside. Taking photos inside is discouraged but I snuck this shot. The beauty outside is even more magnified inside.

Don’t start me on how much I want to do a show here. It’s purple, it’s Deco and it’s beyond soulful, the makings of a perfect stage for a future Soup to Nuts extravaganza.

For one last thrill-seek of the day Charles and I were tempted to hit this little honey parked right outside the church:

But no Randy’s meant that stomach contents had been held to the waterline. So we just headed back down Crenshaw and called it a (very good) day.

My friend, Jason Mecier, brilliant junque drawer portrait artist and whose edible art we stand in front of in the tableau above, did this portrait of me a couple of years ago when I first opened The Allee Willis Museum Of Kitsch at AWMOK.com:

It’s made out of junque I had lying around my house and storage garage, plus some of Jason’s own stash peppering the green background. I constantly collected tons of found objects because the art I did myself, mostly in the 1980’s and early 90’s, consisted of found objects incorporated into my paintings. This is by no means my favorite and looks all jumbled so small (actually 36″x48″) but it’s the only one I could put my hands on right away:

A couple of years ago I also used some of my junque when I collaborated with my alter-egoBubbles the artist, who I managed during her six-year career selling over 1000 paintings and ceramics. Although not as junque-covered as I would like to show here, this one’s hanging in my hallway which serves the purpose of easily sliding it into this post.

Since Jason’s portrait of me has hung in my house it’s become de rigueur to be included in any press photos I do, like this one from The Los Angeles Times a couple of weeks ago when I did my Soup to Nuts Party Mix live show.

As Jason took found object assemblage to a whole other place I gladly bestowed some of my most precious junque upon him for the portrait.

Now Jason has incorporated an entirely new medium into his portraiture, one of my favorite substances on earth and a staple here at Willis Wonderland, Red Vines. In his show at Iam8bit last Friday night, “Licorice Flix, Edible Movie Mosaics”, he interpreted the movies thusly:

Here’s me and my date for the night, Storm Lee, singer extraordinaire, with Jason:

And here we are with another good friend of mine as she arrives at the opening, Angelyne:

Lots of good friends in attendance, observing brilliant art and munching on the Red Vine “paint”. From L-R, Storm, me, Jason, Adam Ansel and Daniel Franzese.

I first met Selene Luna, co-star of Margaret Cho’s The Cho Show, through Jason and Adam:

I usually get bored at art openings, but between the art, the place – yay iam8bit -, the featured gourmet treat and medium, Red Vines, I was a happy gal Friday night.  I now leave you with Jason’s Nomi slobbering up a stripper pole in the kitsch klassic, Showgirls:

 

To a purveyor of kitsch such as myself, spotting a 99¢ or dollar store, Dollar Tree or whatever other buck or below establishment that bases its name on that spin and carries bargain merchandise, shoots the same kind of joy and anticipation through your body as what Columbus must have felt when he spotted America. I never ever used to be interested in anything that wasn’t vintage but, especially since establishing the Allee Willis Museum Of Kitsch at AWMOK.com and seeing the crap, I mean treasures, real treasures, that people have posted that were acquired at such bargain emporiums, I’ve become a ravenous beast for the contents that lay within. Some of the most popular Bingo prizes at my recent Soup to Nuts Party Mix live show, like jam and jelly room deodorizers, Malted Milk Balls lip gloss, Pen/Stylos, and flowers in a can were purchased for mere pennies compared to their actual kitsch value had they been located on slightly loftier shelves.

But far and away, my most favorite purchase last week in Riverside, CA., where I went to see Larry Dunn, founding member of the group that gave me my start, Earth, Wind & Fire, and his orchestra play in White Park, was this paper-thin metallic tote telling me just what music does:

If I had had enough time to plan I would’ve taken my new flimsy tote to one of the spots I met up with Larry and crew. But I always travel with a digi recorder, a couple pairs of glasses, two phones, an Ipad, three cameras, two Flip cams, a bottle of water, and other away-from-home essentials, all of which would have been too much for this excessively-and-thankfully- kitschtastically-cheaply-made tote to bear, and I’d rather have it in my permanent collection than in the wastebasket at the Marriott where we all were staying. That’s not to say that it wouldn’t have been the perfect accessory to complement the fine meal I had at my favorite soul food restaurant in CA., which I’ve blogged about before and where we all went to eat as soon as we checked in.

Just as Music Saves My Soul on the tote, Fried Chicken, Yams and Greens Save My Soul on the table.

When Larry told me he was performing in Riverside I told him he had to go to Gram’s. When Larry called Gram to tell him he was playing in Riverside, Gram threw a party for the band.

I put my rep on the line when I said Gram’s had the best fried chicken in the state. Larry and his fabulous wife Luisa, also in the band, completely agreed.

As a customer, it’s always a good sign when the only poster on the wall is something you wrote.

The concert was great. As always, I photographed and videoed everything as soon as my songs were played, in this case ‘September”, “Boogie Wonderland” and “In The Stone”, all of which Larry also played keyboards on on the original records. He also played them for me live at Soup To Nuts Party Mix.

So all in all, a very productive and soulful weekend was spent in Riverside. A l’il bit o’ Soul at the 99¢ store…

…a l’il bit o’ Soul food at Grams…

…and a whole lotta Soul music with the Larry Dunn Orchestra.

Which is good as I need a whole lotta Soul this week to write a write a whole lotta: