Tattoo Flash Print Dishtowels

brittany — Fri, 17 Sep 2010 02:00:00 +0000

Sin in Linen, purveyor of retro and punk rock patterned household goods, sent Elevate Difference and this feminist reviewer a pair of their new Tattoo Flash Print Dishtowels. I’m not sure what to review: their utility? As Courtney Love once sang, “I don’t do the dishes, I throw them in the crib.” Do I test them for feminist purity? Included among the sacred hearts, horseshoes, and flames are bikini-clad pinup girls, one of whom strikes a squatting-at-the-strip-club-in-platforms pose that is less Bettie Page than Jenna Jameson. Ew.

Lest you accuse me of typically second wave prudery, I assure you that I do like vintage pin-ups. My husband knows that Playboy is verboten in my house not because naked ladies are bad, but because naked ladies who are shaved, starved, and siliconed into looking like pneumatic twelve-year-olds are bad. My husband, incidentally, is our household’s usual dishwasher, and he approved of the Tattoo Dishtowels. “More absorbent than the crap we got at Ikea,” was his take. Unfortunately, when he draped the towels over the oven door to dry, my five-year-old daughter and ten-year-old son got an eyeful. She liked the mermaids and butterflies; he wondered why on earth there would be women in bathing suits on the new dishtowels. I told him I didn’t know.

I see the appeal of applying tattoos to household products instead of human bodies; the consumer remains au courant while avoiding the inconvenience of a lifetime commitment. What I fail to understand, continually, is the use of voluptuous pin-up girl as shorthand for “I am different. I am alternative.” When I gaze at the designs on the Tattoo Dishtowels, I think of an aging Korean War vet’s meaty forearms. A dishtowel of tattoos for the new millennium might feature Japanese kanji, Celtic knots, or Shiloh Jolie-Pitt’s name in Sanskrit.

But the purpose of these towels is not to celebrate the history of tattooing; it is to send the following message to the neighbors on laundry day: I am no ordinary housewife. This is precisely what I conveyed last week when I attended both kids’ school open houses in rumpled jeans and a pair of maroon Chuck Taylors, so I understand this impulse completely. I just don’t agree that a half-naked babe, however luscious, is the best way to do it.

Now if that bikini babe were in the company of the shirtless Old Spice Guy, then we’d really be cooking (pun totally intended). Equal opportunity objectification could be all that’s needed to unite feminism’s many waves—even if it’s only over the kitchen sink.

Written by: Shannon Drury, September 16th 2010

Small Decorative Mosaic Tile Bowl

admin — Sun, 26 Jul 2009 16:06:00 +0000

By AttysVintage

My paternal grandmother had a thing for butterscotch and caramels, and as the ubiquitous good hostess, she kept the sugary treats in a small bowl in her living room to offer house guests upon their arrival. I always wondered what the deal was with these two particular candies, which seems be favorites among a geriatric crowd. Perhaps this is simply my own ingrained stereotype gained as a result of my grandmother's ever-present hospitality that I now choose to imprint on the world. Truth can be difficult to discern from the limitations of one's experience. Whether fact or fiction, the Small Decorative Mosaic Tile Bowl from AttysVintage reminds me of my grandmother's candy dishes. It is small (about 6" in diameter and 2" tall) and very lightweight, which means you can use it like my granny did or tack it up on the wall for a bit of artistic flare. Given its propensity for memory generation, I'd probably opt for the former.

The outer part of the bowl is a semi-shiny gold with tiny, squiggly designs. The inner part is lined with lovely multicolored tiles—speckled brown, baby powder pink, royal blue, and robin's egg blue—of differing shapes and sizes in a linear pattern that encircles the circumference of the bowl. The mosaic design is held in place by some sort of soft grey plaster, which no doubt contributes to its weightlessness.

Since I'm not a big fan of candy, I think this bowl will find its home on the small table on the inside of my door. Perhaps it will help me to collect pocket change or not misplace my keys after a long day's work. And when I return home I can think of my grandmother, a 1950s housewife with a penchant for sweetness whose quiet resistance paved the way for my own brand of clamorous radical feminism.

Written by: Mandy Van Deven, July 26th 2009

housewares

Tattoo Flash Print Dishtowels

Small Decorative Mosaic Tile Bowl