I interrupt this vintage joke to ask an important question:
Do you like orange?
It seems like one of those colours that people have a love it or hate it thing for.
I’m on the side of love it. Maybe that’s because I learned the magical, mystical power of orange when my friend, Grover, introduced me to Ugly Orange Sweater, way back in 1986.
Y’see, not only is orange the colour of creamsicles and beach vacation toenail polish, it is one of the few colours Grover can really identify, on account of the fact that he has colour blindness.
And, even though he is super talented and great at lots of things including but not limited to gift giving and swinging on non-pinchy-bum swings, Grover couldn’t really appreciate the nuances of periwinkle blue, Tiffany blue, or the colour of a certain Leonard Cohen raincoat.
So, orange it was.
Then came the day that his mom (if I’m remembering the legend correctly) knitted him a gigantic orange sweater. It was (let me emphasize again) gigantic and orange and the wool kind of pilled up and the sweater ended up looking like a gigantic and orange, wearable muppet. Grover (who I also think of as a lovely, wearable muppet, hence his nom de plum) named it Ugly Orange Sweater (U.O.S.) and it became a Thing.
If you don’t get the significance of a Thing to teenagers, you need to stop everything and read more John Green books.
Anyway, ever since 1986, I have loved Grover and U.O.S. and orange.
I found these two melamine plates recently and even though I have enough vintage melamine to host the entire cast of the Mary Tyler Moore show, they had to come home with me.
On account of the orange.
Yep, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Even though I keep putting “tiny house” pics on Pinterest and we’re supposed to be downsizing, not bringing even more stuff that Practical Man gave away in 1976, into the house. And, even though the orange in these awesome plates is not really the same colour as the orange in U.O.S.
These are vintage Maplex (from Toronto, Canada). And, even though I’m definitely down-sizing, I just love their funky, flower-power motif.
Of course I do.
They go so well with the vintage daisy Pyrex (that my friend Shades gave me) and the vintage orange melamine (that we found in the melamine-mecca of Ompah, Ontario two years ago) and the little Japanese creamer that almost looks like the same flower-power pattern (that I found for 10 cents on a sunny morning of yard sale-ing with my sister-in-law in Sturgeon Falls, Ontario, four years ago).
It’s as if they were all meant to be together, from the beginning. So, if you happen to find this Maplex pattern anywhere (I can’t find it, even online), please save it for me because, these would look great in our vintage Boler trailer.
Yes Indeedy, I am incurable.
It might be Grover’s fault. Too much cozy orange scarf and not enough non-pinchy-bum swings or U.O.S. sightings.
But in the end, all that really matters, of course, is:
Orange You Glad I Didn’t Say Banana?!
Posted by Christine Fader in Inspiring Lives & People, Retro Decorating, Vintage Viewpoint Tags: 50s, Boler, camping, daisy pyrex, decorating, dishes, downsizing, glamping, jokes, Leonard Cohen, maplex, melamine, orange, Pyrex, retro, tiny house, vintage
I mentioned the other day that our kitchen cupboards are over full. I offer you Exhibit A (with random modern dishes removed, in case you’re wondering why there’s space):
Our cupboards are full with–if you’ve been paying attention–practical things like cheese slicers, scales and oatmeal and stuff.
Not vintage Pyrex and melamine dishes. Nuh unh. As you can see, once you take the boring stuff out, there’s plenty of room.
None of that matters though, because you won’t believe it–I mean I can barely believe it myself–but I did it:
I edited a cupboard.
Not one in the kitchen, but that’s beside the point.
You may recall that we have a 1974 Boler trailer. It is a full 13 feet of vintage delight. I loooove it in a way that is annoying to others, I’m sure.
Anyway, I realized suddenly as I was stacking and piling in the kitchen to no avail that no wonder my melamine bowls didn’t fit. Pyrex is for inside. Melamine is perfect for camping in a 1974 trailer. Those dishes belonged in the Boler, of course!
The Boler that I loooove.
With joy in my heart, I trundled out to the Boler, but when I got there, the cupboards were…mysteriously…over full.
I’m sure it’s not my fault. Right, because when we bought it from the previous owners (who had owned it since new), we inherited all its contents, including Maplex and Duraware dishes.
Plus, the Boler “kitchen” is REALLY tiny. I like to call it “bijou”, because I’m slightly addicted to alliteration. A “bijou Boler” sounds great, doesn’t it?
Anyway the kitchen only consists of 4 cupboards and one drawer. Not even cupboards really. They’re more like bread boxes. Yes, four bread boxes and a cookie tin. So bijou.
And, the cupboards were chock-a-block with the necessary dishes (we have to eat, don’t we?) as well as things coveted by Practical Man, like flashlights and bungee cords.
So, they were full and I’m pretty sure that, as usual, it was not my fault. Still, I decided I had to edit. Somebody had to go and the dishes outnumbered the flashlights by 20 to 1.
Before I could do the dastardly deed, I had to psych myself up. First, I had a little nap on the oh-so-stylish Boler couch:
It converts to a bunk bed for people who are not strapping women of 5’9″, like I am:
Then, I pretended I was drinking chicory coffee and had Laurie Partridge hair out of 1974.
Then, I shoop-shooped and sang a few rounds of “C’mon, get happy” (Composed just for the Boler, I’m sure, because who wouldn’t be happy lounging in the 1974 Boler that I looove?!)
Then, I admired the new cups and plates I was about to put in the cupboards, again. All the while, I tried not to think about the pitiful cries from the little brown plates that hid behind the Boler kitchen doors. Little brown plates, you’re so, so sweet but you’re just not my colour. I don’t really loooove you.
But these make me a little giddy:
Not so giddy for the grey and white vintage Tupperware coffee mugs (replaced with more cheerful and vintage-reminiscent harvest gold, orange and avocado green):
Finally, after my napping and chicory coffee and hair and shooping and singing, I was ruthless. I edited. I was the Simon Cowell of cupboards.
In addition to being a terrible haggler, I am also not ruthless…even about inanimate objects. The ones that didn’t make the cut to keep were given away to a good home: I have re-ignited the collecting bug in my friend, Shades.
Her husband loves me even more now.
But never mind because today, all is right in the Boler. And now, there’s even room for Practical Man’s flashlights.
I’ll get to the kitchen cupboards in the house one of these days. Right now, I’m celebrating with another round of “C’mon Get Happy” . Tra-la-la, shoop-shoop.
A flashlight makes a great microphone.
Posted by Christine Fader in Retro Decorating, Vintage Vehicles, Vintage Viewpoint Tags: Airstream, Boler, camping, cleaning, dishes, kitchen, melamine, organizing, Partridge Family, Simon Cowell, Tableware, Trailers
There’s not enough room in the kitchen cupboards.
However, I’m almost positive that nearly getting beaned every time I open a door to fetch a plate has nothing to do with the oval, pale pink, melamine bowl I got at a garage sale for 50 cents last Saturday.
It belongs with the vintage pink, melamine salt-and-pepper shakers that our friend, Safety Bob, gave us…er, me, last summer.
Ditto the custard-yellow platter. And the darling celery-green serving bowl. But, that’s not why there’s not enough room in the cupboards. I’m sure of it.
Here are 10 ways Practical Man and I differ when it comes to what should be in the cupboards:
1. He likes utilitarian things.
I like, uh…things.
2. He says stuff like, “the right tool for the right job”.
I say stuff like, “I don’t know what I’ll use this (vintage drinking straw dispenser) for, but I love it!”
3. He buys staple foods (on sale, of course) like oats, coffee and veggies from The List.
I don’t buy food (can’t be trusted to stick to The List). Consequently, I need a GPS and several stock boys to find anything in the grocery store.
4. He uses things like cheese slicers because they are safe.
I cut myself regularly because using anything but a knife to slice cheese would never occur to me.
5. He buys the gigantic jars of spices (because they’re cheaper).
I would like him to buy the gigantic bags of chocolate chips (I’m sure they’re cheaper).
7. He buys 32 different kinds of herbal tea to try to entice me to drink it.
I only drink tea under duress because most of it tastes like 32 different kinds of grass clippings (chocolate chai grass clippings, mint grass clippings, lemon zinger grass clippings…).
8. He likes using a kitchen scale when he’s dividing up the leftovers to put in the freezer.
I prefer to stay far away from anything remotely resembling a scale (see earlier note about Wispa bars).
9. He uses a meat slicer to slice the giant summer sausage from our favourite Mennonite store.
I cut myself regularly because using anything but a knife to slice summer sausage would never occur to me.
10. He thinks meat slicers, scales and cheese slicers are very practical.
I think they’re the reason we have no room in the cupboard.
I’m almost positive.
You are reading a post from Christine Fader’s “A Vintage Life” blog. Join the romance with all things retro at https://avintagelife.wordpress.com
It’s holiday time and for me, that means lots of time rotting my brain (not to mention my body) in front of a screen.
While my derriere has been morphing into the shape of our couch, I have been pondering screen time that has a vintage vibe. While I love vintage movies (who can resist the banter between Katherine Hepburn and Humphry Bogart in African Queen or the Christmas sentimental classic, It’s a Wonderful Life?) I also enjoy watching modern productions that take place in a vintage era. Sometimes, I don’t really care about the plot, so much as spending my time oogling all the amazing vintage items flashing on screen…the Jackie Kennedy-inspired clothing, the vintage ashtrays, the cars, even the vintage food.
Who knew there was a pastel-coloured food phase?
Here are some of my favourite modern screen shows with a vintage twist:
– Pan Am
– The Help
So, if your life is feeling a little too modern these days, squish your own derriere into your favourite chair and settle in for some vintage screen time. Sure, it might rot your brain and your body but it’s the holidays…and new year’s resolutions will be here soon enough!
A vintage lover on a budget can be challenged these days what with the pattern of finding the same 5 chain stores in every city. Unless you can afford to shop in a local boutique (which I generally can’t), it can be hard to find unique treasures without spending a small fortune.
Enter, garage sales and auctions.
My fellow treasure hunter husband, M, and I love the country sales and church sales the best. We’ve found the nicest people, the most unique stuff and the biggest bargains at these sales. And, there’s usually great PIE, too.
I mean what’s a Saturday morning without pie?!
Recently, we imitated the Clampetts by strapping a porch swing found at a church yard sale to the roof of our car and driving home with it. It now sits serenely and Walton-like (thanks to some Macgyvering by M), suspended from our porch rafters. It makes me want to sip lemonade in a voopy dress, just looking at it.
A few weeks ago, we found some Pyrex in amazing condition. I love the images of 50s casseroles it conjures up and it also reminds me of my grandmother’s tiny kitchen and post-war house. A cute little red dish and a cheery yellow casserole complete with lid were purchased for–and this is why I love country yard sales–a grand total of 75 cents.
Add a little pie into the experience and it’s my definition of a perfect day.