The translator for this field cargo (translation: picnic basket) over-exercised their flair for capturing the spirit of the American picnic-goer by naming the product Profit and selling that hot dog and potato salad feeling as “The blue sky makes me generous and the vast sea invites me to ‘love’. The breeze passing over my cheek make my mind gentle.” Cheese on that burger, anyone?
How did a toilet come to be one of the most popular transistor radio designs in the 1960’s and 70’s? This one, made in 1967 by H. Fishlove & Co. (not kidding about the name) is especially noteworthy because of the packaging, a styrofoam toilet paper roll that says ‘go-go “canned music”‘ on the back. Go-go indeed.
Pre-pantyhose nylons are alive and well inside this L’Eggs predecessor made by Modernage Hosiery in the 50’s. Open with a sardine key and pop on for fresh smelling appendages.
Nothing better for a Sunday chew-down than a can o’ ham, glistening pink deliciousness especially when printed on tin or whatever metal this is that allowed the contents to completely disintegrate inside. As you can see from the photo below, the sardine-like key on the back is still intact but upon shaking nary a shred of meatstuff can be heard. I found this in a junkyard at least 25 years ago (the ham was already gone) and almost everyone who’s walked through my kitchen since gives it a good shake thinking the ham might magically appear.
Although she also came in white this black version, Mego’s bendable answer to Barbie, rode the wave of 70’s blaxploitation heroines like Friday Foster, Cleopatra Jones, Foxy Brown, Christie Love and my fave, Velvet Smooth. I love when colloquialisms are bent into names: Dinah-miiiiite!!
Wear your drink around your neck for hands free conversations and hugs! I’ve collected over 50 of these Swinger Glasses from the 1960’s and 70’s – no water rings on the table, no lazy guest hogging 10 different glasses because they’re incapable of holding their vessel for more than one sip. Though many of the neck glasses are more decorative than this standard shaped one they don’t have flat bottoms, which is pretty nutty as it means the glass can never be set down should a guest decide to dance, bend over or do something extra in the bathroom. Heavy fashion chain included.
Not sure how long the kitsch factor will remain high on this now that MJ is back in the center of the Pop Culture eyeball with his upcoming tour but this candy bar is one of my favorite pieces of MJ memorabilia I own. I recently worked with one of Michael’s nephews, Taj, and he told me the family used to eat these.
I’ve seen many a kitsch lipstick holder but this plunges the category to a whole new high. I’ve scoured the magnificently cheap plastic pot for a manufacturer’s name or date but no such luck. I’m guessing this was grown somewhere between the late 60’s and mid 80’s judging from the Nude Pink meets Fireball Red with a twist of Foxy Brown inspired shades. The plastic flowers may be drooping but the lipsticks, which snap onto the ends of the stems, are as firm as the day they first bloomed.
Why would a microphone, something made to go near the mouth also include a flame? And why would the lighter be positioned so the head of the microphone insured totally muffled sound? And why would the hand model, in this case me, wear bandaids on her fingers to cover her bitten off nails? All this makes this artifact classic Kitsch.
I hate that King with the big head.
He’s the scariest and most unappetizing mascot I’ve ever seen for a product, especially one that made my eyes spin when I first chomped down on a Whopper in 1967 and my life as a junk food junkie evolved to a higher plane than my permanently sugar infused cells could have ever imagined. But every time since his/its birth that I’ve seen that massive plastic headed thing appear in a Burger King commercial I’ve vowed to never again let my choppers sink into the flame broiled meat festival I so love. But now the King has taken meat to a new high and I just may have to bow and become a loyal subject once again.
At 4 bucks a pop all the men you love can now smell like a sizzling burger. Behold the scent of seduction with FLAME body spray for men by BK. No lie! I just ordered a case as this precious commodity of American ingenuity surely deserves an entire shelf in my beloved Soul Kitsch collection. Though I’m sure I will part with a few bottles so the epidermis of those males I cherish most makes the air around us all even more fragrant.
I haven’t seen any photos that show the BK logo proudly gracing the newest item on the menu, but I certainly hope it’s pressed into the metal as proudly as a pickle chip sits atop its progenitor Whopper meat heap. Just as the American people have elected their first African American president, one who seems so wise, beneficent and level headed, I can only believe it’s the same strong faith, chutzpah and ingenuity in its inventors that led to a product so distinctly American as FLAME.
All hail The King!
