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awm03

Question for Magnaverde -- the challenge of the ugly or trite

awm03
13 years ago

What prompts my question (I'll get to it! It's waaay down at the bottom) was your post in makeithome's thread. It's insightful, funny, and so informative, I hope you don't mind me reposting it:

"The reason I could move back, and that I can look at these pics of 1977 & not cringe is that, unlike my friends' houses, I didn't own anything that was "in style" that year. I had no money (I was an art major) so all my stuff came from Goodwill, while my friends who were business or chemistry or math majors, all made decent incomes right off the bat. Also, they all got married right about that time, and they filled up their new houses with brand new sofas & loveseats in rust polyester velour or plaid Herculon, gigantic TV consoles (this was before "entertainment centers") and if they (or their wives) were really adventurous, they might have had smoked mirror tiles or cork squares glued to the walls. Smoked, gold-veined mirrors--on the diagonal--were very popular that year, I will say that.

Let's also say they don't have any of that stuff anymore. Some of them realized how ugly it all was early on, and replaced it all with patchwork upholstery in mauve & country blue--OK, this stuff was all their wives' idea--& big prints of young girls in big straw hats with ribbons, strolling along at the seashore & little arrangemets of country blue silk flowers on all the spindly little oak tables & weird assemblages of heart-shaped wire gizmos with cornhusk dolls attached with gingham bows, and some dangling candles &--get this--wheat: I don't know what the wheat thing was all about. Anyway, the "country" look was very popular that year.

Other couples hung onto their gigantic Herculon living rooms, because as ugly as the stuff was, it was also indestructible. Correction: is indestructible, and it will be clawing its way out of landfills--as colorful & stain-free as ever!--long after we're gone. My friends felt guilty throwing away something that still looked brand new, but eventually, they broke down & bought new stuff,this time, new "Southwestern" style pieces in allegedly "desert tones" of peach & teal, or, a few years later, they went in for overstuffed sofas in large-scale striped damask prints in burgundy, hunter green & navy, with gigantic brass lamps, or, later, they bought "Tuscan" dinettes wih heavy frames carved in China, & curlicue wineracks draped in plastic grapes & ivy, with reproduction wine posters or scenes of ancient castles at sunset, or--do you see where I'm going with this?

If any of them still have any of that that stuff--and if they keep up with the decorating magazines & 'designer' catalogs--they're sick of it, and ready to throw it all over. And for what? Probably some gigantic beigey-tanny-grayish ditressed leather sofa, a table that looks like it was made out of weathered packing skids, a gigantic clock that looks like rusty iron (but that ten-to-one is actually plastic) and a big, old-looking scroll deal with the names of a bunch of subway stops in a city they've never visited. The washed-out, cheerless look is very popular this year. I give it till the next election.

Here's the thing: history has a way of repeating itself, and not only in recycled decorating styles--and here, I'm thinking Mid-century Modern or Jonathan Adler's colorful Palm-Beach-Divorcee style--but also in feelings of embarrassment over the things we used to like, and the hard-earned money we spent on stuff that, these days, you couldn't give us for free because we wouldn't take it. Now, all that constant stylistic churn may be good for the economy--or, at least, for China's economy--but is it good for us? You tell me. No wonder people don't know what they like anymore. New looks are coming at us as fast as the candy on the conveyor belt on that old episode of I Love Lucy, and the only way to keep up with all the new trends is to keep swallowing whatever comes at us.

OR--we could move away from the machine.

And how do we do that? How does one break free of the apprently never-ending cycle--of infatuation with a hot new look, then of boredom with the same look? By doing it the way I did: by NOT looking to mass marketers--TV shows & magazines (at least current magazines) & blogs & trendy catalogs for style guidance. All they care about is convincing you that What You Like is what they just happen to have a whole warehouse full of. A whole warehouse that they need to empty ASAP, in order to make room for the next shipment of something else.

If you want to know what you really like--not what you're being primed to like by what we used to call Madison Avenue--get hold of a bunch of old decorating magazines & books. Here's why: once the temporary sheen of newness wears off things, you can better assess their stylistic value. If you look, say, at a 1989 House Beautiful or a 1963 Life Magazine or a 1935 House & Garden--it doesn't matter which magazine or period you choose, because the principle is the same--you'll see two kinds of rooms & two kinds of furniture, both in the ads & in the editorial pages: stuff you'd like to have today & stuff that's hideous."

But here's the amazing part: back then, to the people who bought those magazines new, it all looked good. Or, at least, they thought it did, because it was NEW. Today, now that none of it's new, we can better tell the good from the bad. And once you've looked at a dozen of those magazines or books, or six dozen of them, you'll have a pretty good idea of what sort of thing it is you really like. How do I know? because that's how I learned. Yes, I have an interior design degree, but they didn't teach any of this stuff in school. This is all stuff I learned before I ever quit my first career and went back to school. So, in the 1976s, when my friends & their wives were looking at 1976 magazines for "inspiration", I was looking at magazines from the 192Os & 1930s, and the stuff I liked had nothing to do with either what was temporarily in fashion in 1976, or what had been in fashion when the magazine was new. I was drawn to stuff because of its innate style, not because it had at one point been trendy. Believe me, there was plenty of once trendy stuff that, like i said, I wouldn't take if you gave me. Anyway, looking at old magazines allowed me to see stuff free from the then-current design propaganda that was trying to get me to buy that Herculon stuff. So when that stuff showed up at Goodwill or yard sales, I already knew I liked it.

I bought what I liked, while my pals (and their wives) bought what they thought they were supposed to like. Big difference. A few years later, my pals hated what they had been cajoled into buying, while I've still got all my stuff, which, incidentally, only cost a fraction of what ended up paying to J.C Penny or Spiegel on the installment plan.

Magnaverde Rule No. 14: If something isn't in style, it can't go out of style. "


And FINALLY my question:

Do you ever get the urge to use something cliche'd or common or ugly like, say, the smoked mirror tiles, asking yourself, "Can I make this look fresh or attractive?" Do you ever challenge yourself in that way?

Just curious. I think this is an attitude many of us get from having moved into previously owned homes with no $$$ for renovation -- what to do with the blue tile in the bathroom, the oak cabinets, even the smoked mirrors. I saw a room with mini-print wallpaper (late 70s fad, remember?) in a magazine several years ago. It looked surprisingly refreshing.

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