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It’s not often I get excited by a dish or bowl that’s solid white. It seems like such a missed opportunity for self-expression via a compelling color palette. But this brilliant sweep of 18 inches of ceramic, a stone cold product of the Space Age Atomic 1950’s, screams to be pristine hospital white, especially when its cargo is this complimentary of a match:

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I’m not sure what the hole on the bottom is for as there are no breaks in the surface at the top but who am I to argue when the dish is so beautiful?

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I’ve taken about 40 photos trying to get the manufacturers mark to show up better but it’s a series of blurry failed attempts. It almost makes you seasick to stare at it through human eyes let alone a camera lens. If I had created such beautiful work I’d be sure my name was a little more readable, throw some aqua glaze into the etching or something. To remedy this, I grabbed my one digital camera I’ve never been able to let go of, my Canon PowerShot SD 500, a cheap little thing that takes better macro shots than any camera I’ve owned. Between my cheap but reliable macro and cranking the levels and contrast up I can now tell you that this bowl was made by:

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Imperfect signature execution or not, this is one of my favorite serving dishes I own. Thank God the sculptor was better at dragging their clay tool across smooth concave surfaces than signing their name. Not many Good & Plentys could have fit in those tiny crevices anyway.

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Whenever I look at these metal cheerleader wall plaques made by Sexton in the 1960’s I think of Toni Basil because you can see how happy these girls are doing their cheers. In 1982, the year that “Oh Mickey you’re so fine, you’re so fine you blow my mind, hey Mickey” was all you could hear on the radio, Toni, singer, choreographer extraordinaire and the woman responsible for making cheerleading ultra cool, and I were best of friends. She was one of my first girlfriends when I moved to LA in 1976 and I’ve always loved my collaborations with her because she’s fearless, decisive and eternally ahead of the curve.

Last night Toni and I got together for the first time in years at the restaurant I co-own, Street. Here we are with Prudence Fenton and Chef Susan Feniger.

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We  covered a lot of territory, not to mention food. Though we wrote our first song together in 1976 most of what we wrote went on the gold album that included “Mickey” in ’82. Here we are at a party I threw for Toni at my house to present her with a gold record when that song went number 1 in Japan.

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One of our songs, “Street Beat”, written with Bruce Roberts, has run through my head at least once a week since we wrote it. This performance of it on The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour is staggering.

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For any of you who may not know it, Toni formed the legendary dance group, The Lockers, street dance pioneers, in 1970. (She also wrote the legendary “Oh Mickey, you’re so fine…” chant but never got credit). So when you see a performance as incredible as “Street Beat” bear in mind that Toni doesn’t just sing it live but did absolutely everything else from choreography to wardrobe.

That same year another one of our collaborations, “Shoppin From A-Z”, also with Bruce Roberts, came out. Just as I was, Toni was a multimedia artist at a time when that wasn’t encouraged in the music industry unless you were a major star. So I always loved collaborating with Toni because she not only encouraged my multi-medianess but pushed me into places I had never been before. Like in the “Shoppin” video where she made me dance.

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But now back to 2010 and our dinner at Street.

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We started out with my favorite dish at the restaurant, Albacore Sashimi with spicy sesame mayonnaise yuzu ponzu sauce, smoked salt, pink peppercorns and micro wasabi.

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I don’t even like pepper but always ask for extra pink peppercorns. This dish is so good it makes me feel like doing a cheer.

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Next we had Graskaas Aged Gouda Salad with red endive and watercress, Asian pear, black currant and celery leaves in a juniper walnut vinaigrette,…

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… followed by Lamb Kafta Meatballs over warm Syrian cheese wrapped in grape leaf with date and carob molasses on za’atar spicy flatbread,…

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…and Tatsutage Fried Chicken marinated with soy, mirin and sake, crispy fried in rice batter and topped with spicy kewpie mayonnaise sauce.

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This dish also deserves a cheer.

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We also ordered Stir Fried Chinese Brocolli with fresh ginger, garlic and sesame…

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…and Thai Rice Noodles with Chinese broccoli, seasoned pork, tomato, mint, Thai basil and chiles.

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I forgot to photograph the Massamun Beef Curry  because we were too busy talking.

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As sure as I love the food at Street not to mention the related-though-it-preceded-it-by-18-years “Street Beat” I’m not gonna let another few years pass before Toni and I get together again.

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In 1973 when the Ronco Miracle Broom sprung on the market half of the households in America started vacuuming their shag with this revolutionary cordless electric vacuum cleaner.  That’s reason enough to collect it now but with products like this, especially those made in the 70’s and especially in the genre of products sold on TV – the Miracle Broom was among the first of hard-sell filmed TV commercials hawking new and unique products birthing what would later be known as the infomercial – oftentimes the box was as good as the product that came in it. Not to say that this Streamlined Moderne-meets-70’s-modern looking gadget isn’t great in and of itself but the graphics showing suggested uses of the product are even better. Blown out color, cheesy furniture and excellence in hand modeling being some of the pillars of that greatness. Here’s one of my favorite shots:

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The crumbs are SO over-exaggerated. I’d like to know who eats toast leaving crumbs this big and in this formation? Only a chipmunk or someone without teeth was capable of creating this mess.

For this shot Ronco spared no expense on the tablecloth. Then again, they wanted you to concentrate on the crumbs. Seems to me they should’ve called the toothless person back to create better crumbs though as these don’t seem that serious.

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I love how the ashtray is overturned in this next one. Even more, I love the pattern on the tie of the man wielding the Miracle Broom. Even more, I love that Ronco was evolved enough to have men doing some of the cleaning.

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I can’t figure out what spilled on the following car seat. It’s somewhere between Red Hots, vomit or that crumbled fauna stuff you buy at craft stores to make little trees out of.

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The Ronco Miracle Broom was the stuff of legend in the 1970’s, a massive lunge forward in the revolution of products designed with style, convenience and innovation in mind that began in the post-World War II Atomic Age. I may have shed the shag carpeting over the years but the double D’s are always on hand to pop into my Miracle Broom whenever I’m too lazy to completely chew my toast.

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Designed by William Wiggins for Shepherd Products of Toronto in 1970, this aluminum ball shaped barbecue which featured a double stack of cooking racks and a rollover cover was about as modern as you could get back in the day. The hottest of the colors it came in was a gorgeous shade of red orange which this one originally was when I rescued it for 99 cents from a Salvation Army. Here it is in brand new, pristine shape:

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But through the years of chicken juice and hot dog grease all that was left of its color by the time I found it were a few flakes that peeled off if you even breathed on it. I hate when vintage things are restored to look “brand-new”, translation: too cheesy for a purist  to even look at, so I couldn’t consider that. But the opportunity for cosmetic surgery presented itself when I art directed  a Debbie Harry video over here in 1987 and covered the B-B-Q with a coat of chrome spray paint to use as a prop. Which made it look gorgeous but even more dangerous to eat anything that was cooked in it. So through the years it’s served a variety of other functions, mostly at parties.  Sometimes I use it as a candy dish…

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A lot of times it’s used as a name tag container as I hate to be responsible for introducing everyone myself…

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At a party over here a couple of years ago when the musical I co-wrote, The Color Purple, came to LA, Adam Wade, who played Ol’ Mister, dipped into the Ball and used the flip top as a ledge to fill out his name tag.

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This is significant because decades before I met Adam I had photos of him plastered all over my bedroom because I swooned over his Johnny Mathis-smooth-as-wine-which-I-don’t-even-like-so-I’ll-say-smooth-as-Skippy-Peanut-Butter-smooth voice. Here’s what I looked at on my ceiling every night as a teenager when I got into bed:

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I can’t believe I have no photos of the bedroom I grew up in. It was decorated to the max and gave all indications of how and who I would grow up to be which is exactly how and who I grew up to be both from a decorative and musical standpoint. But me having no photos is another matter entirely so suffice it to say this is why I document everything so incessantly now. But back to the Ball B-B-Q…

My little Ball B-B-Q may not be capable of smoking with the big guys…

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…and it may not be capable of turning out food like this…

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…but as it sits in my yard this Fourth of July, probably wishing it had a big bulging steak or some burgers sweating on its grills, it just makes me happy to look at it and celebrate the fact that I had the good taste to buy it in the first place.

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Although I was always an Aquanet gal back in the day when I would let hairspray anywhere near my hair, THE ubiquitous brand of follicle gluiness was Breck. Breck ads were on the back covers of the biggest women’s magazines like Seventeen, Vogue, Glamour and Ladies Home Journal so you couldn’t miss them if you tried. Down to sponsoring America’s Junior Miss contests, Breck Girls were the epitome of femininity in an age of hairdos that looked like Jiffy Pop on steroids and bundt cakes stacked on top of otherwise normal shaped heads.

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This is a can of special formula “Super Hold”. That means this spray could hold hair in place that defied gravity once a nights-full of pin curls, spoolies, sponge rollers and the scotch tape and toilet paper holding it all in place was removed. When I was 12, my hair was on “Super Hold” for my sister’s wedding.

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When I was 14, I achieved a rather lumpy and narrow version of my favorite Breck do:

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I never needed directions to spray my flips but Breck provided them in case anyone was new to the art of setting hair in cement:

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Please refer to this Breck can if you want your hair to look like the parting of the Red Seas with a nice mountain view in back and two gulleys down below.

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This may not excite the average person as much as it excites me but when I bought this piece of Hershey’s Dark Chocolate for a penny on eBay I felt like I hit the Kitsch motherlode. With as much candy as I’ve seen in my lifetime I’ve never come across one made by a major manufacturer, let alone Hershey’s, that had a wrong wrapper.   Not only is the graphic not centered on the candy bar but it’s not even the right color.  Here is a non-mutant piece pictured with the orphan:

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I’ve been popping these things into my mouth for years. I can spot one miles away in the candy terrarium that greets visitors as they walk into my house and which I fill and art direct daily.

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Upon acquiring the runt, I now guard it like it’s a gold bar. I have it sitting in a special place on a special shelf so no one mistakes it for an available piece to munch on. Last week when I saw someone pick it up I yelled ‘NOOOOOOO’ so loud you would have thought I was stopping someone from pressing the button to activate a nuclear bomb. This is one freak of candy nature I intend to be able to enjoy the rest of my life.

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Were it not for Gold Bell Gift Stamps I never would’ve had a new blanket or clock radio to go off to college with. I’m not sure where these stamps  were given out in Detroit, where I grew up,  but it had to have been an A&P or Kroger’s as that’s where my mom always did her shopping. I loved licking and pasting in all the stamps she brought home and I collected those books like they were diamonds knowing that I could cash them in on the items of my choice.

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It was definitely looking through the Gold Bell Gift Stamps catalog that my love of catalogs blossomed. It was absolutely mind boggling to me that you could actually get something for free and all it required was licking little stamps and gluing them onto the pages as the book got lumpy and lumpier, looking almost as if a pitcher of water had been poured on it the fuller it got. For someone who’s a paper freak like me it was just as thrilling to fill the book as it was to get the items the books were cashed in to get. In fact, sometimes I got so attached to the books as they warped as more and more stamps were pasted in that the book itself became more precious than the gift it could procure.

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I’m not sure if this hand-painted wooden counter sign was for Gold Bell Gift Stamps or whether there was an entirely different brand called, simply, Gold Stamps:

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Whatever the case, my tattered book of Gold Bell Gift Stamps, ready to be redeemed for a hood hairdryer, mohair argyle sweater or automatic hand mixer, looks very nice sitting next to it.

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I used to pour over this page making sure I had done everything right. I could smell the new pogo stick or 45 player as I filled in my name and address.

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I shall always love Gold Bell Gift Stamps for being a big part of my childhood. Past a certain point I just couldn’t give the books away anymore. I must’ve known somewhere in the back of my head I was going to have the world’s most gigantic memorabilia collection. So I have this book and a few spare stamps and that’s just as good as the portable TV I always wanted which took hundreds and hundreds of books that I never managed to amass before falling for a turtle bowl, dictionary or any of the other smaller gifts that made me feel rich as a Queen.

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I love lighted signs. Most of the ones I collect are African-American from the 1950’s and 60’s but I also fall for big fat trouts popping out of picnic baskets, gushing motorized waterfalls and the blinking lights of a big metropolis. But my absolute favorite genre which I constantly stop myself from buying because I have no room to keep any more are lighted food signs, not the least of which is this one commemorating one of my all-time favorite snack foods, the chili dog.

I love Chili dogs.

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This  was consumed two months ago at Cupids Hot Dogs in Tarzana, CA, where the decor is just as good as the hot dogs.

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There are also two outstanding specials offered at Cupid’s that I haven’t seen offered at very many other hot dog stands:

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I don’t think Cupid’s uses Castleberry chili though, which is good as in 2007 many cans of Castleberry were recalled for possibly containing Botulism.

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As I’m too lazy to cook my own anything this has not deterred me from enjoying a good hot dog stand-bought chili dog every now and then…

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… especially if it comes in the form of a vintage lighted sign.

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I don’t know about you but there’s nothing that I’d like to see floating in my drink less than a set of teeth. Unless they’re these wonderful ice cubes that pop out of a rubbery bubblegum pink gums-colored tray right into the refreshment of your choice. I’ve even made them specifically for Bloody Mary’s where I put some crushed peppercorns in the water so it looks like the teeth have cavities while slowly seasoning your drink as they melt.

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It’s a gorgeous day here in LA today, perfect for sitting back with a nice, cold drink showing off a beautiful extra set of choppers. I’m mixing the Kool-Aid right now.

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I’m not really a collector of vintage presidential plates. The only other ones I have, a few Jack and Jackie Kennedy ones, crept in more because of hairdos and fashion sense than for their stature as the First Couple of the United States. But every Eisenhower plate I’ve ever stumbled across has some tragic art department flaw.  Like no one ever approved the plates once they were finished or there’s no way they could have escaped the fact that something was always magnificently wrong with the skin color of the couple who occupied the White House right before the Kennedys, Dwight and Mamie Eisenhower, President and First Lady of the United States from 1952 to 59.  Here they look like corpses:

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A slight adjustment on color and at least it wouldn’t look like the Eisenhower’s had butter and pancake syrup running through their veins as opposed to real blood that would have forced a more natural skin tone.

Here it almost looks as if the Eisenhower’s race has changed:

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Upon closer look, it looks like  the art director matched the skin texture of a potato rather than a human being:

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My absolute favorite depiction of the Eisenhowers on ceramic is this plate where it looks like they have grown an extra head:

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Upon closer  inspection, it looks like a second head was stamped on just as the plate was beginning to move down the assembly line, as if their faces were on little springs and actively popping out of their heads.

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Sometimes you look at a President and you get inspired because you think anyone can become whatever they want if they just dedicate themselves enough. But these Eisenhower presidential plates inspire me in a totally different way. It tells me that even if you’re the President, kitsch can happen to you. But the good news is that, for one, this American citizen has taken much more interest this particular President than she ever would have had his skin been in better condition.