This Week: Julie's Tacky Treasures

There is a fine line between the delightfully kitschy and the irredeemably tacky, and Julie Mangin treads that line with balletic skill. Her website, Julie's Tacky Treasures, celebrates items that appear at first to be in poor taste, but on reflection reveal the twisted creativity of their makers. From Mark Eden Bust Developers (see above photo) to outhouse salt-and-pepper shakers, America's inventors have devoted their lives pursuing impossible novelty dreams for our benefit. Mangin, a librarian and website developer living in Silver Spring, MD, collects and catalogs these semi-important fragments of Americana.

When did you first realize that tacky items could indeed be treasures?

This epiphany came to me a few years ago, while I was working on a website for the Library of Congress, called American Treasures of the Library of Congress. I coded page after page of text and pictures into the web site which bragged on the unique artifacts in their collections, and frankly I was getting a little annoyed one day. That’s when I realized, hey… I’ve got cool stuff, too! Sure, the Library may have the rough draft of the Declaration of Independence and the contents of Lincoln’s pockets when he was assassinated. But I have the world’s largest collection of Mark Eden Bust Developers and a Chairman Mao cigarette lighter that plays the Cultural Revolution anthem "The East Is Red" when you lift its lid. So, I went home and started a little website of my own.

What draws you to them?

I believe that poor taste, under the right conditions, can be hilarious. I have an entire page ("The Big Heads") devoted to one man’s effort to honor the Presidency by creating a park where 18-foot busts of every President will be represented, from Washington down to George Bush the Younger. The only problem was that when the heads began to be delivered to the motel he runs in Williamsburg, Virginia, he discovered that he needed a permit (which he had not applied for) in order to publicly display them. When he finally presented the plans for his park to the proper authorities, the reaction was somewhat less enthusiastic as he was expecting, especially when he revealed that George Washington was actually going to be a 92-foot, full-body statue. Thus began a three-year saga, in which heads literally rolled to a couple of places around Virginia that were willing to take them in until the matter was resolved.

What makes for a great tacky treasure?

The secret to a tacky treasure, as opposed to just plain tacky, is a certain irony that makes me laugh. My favorite tacky treasures are ones that appear to have been created with a sincere, yet naive, attempt at sophistication. A good example is the Paradise Stein ("Mugs I’ll Never Drink Out Of"), the most horrid representation of the Garden of Eden ever to be found on the side of a drinking vessel. It doesn’t look like a place I’d want to go. Yet it’s clear by the inscription on the bottom ("To My Darling Husband, Love, Connie") that it was meant as a loving tribute. This would be touching, except for the fact that I picked up this treasure at a flea market for $8. This does not bode well for the success of their marriage. Part of the fun of a tacky treasure is imagining its life before I acquire it. Wouldn’t you just love to have been a fly on the wall when that gift was presented? It must have taken every once of tact in that poor man’s body to say, "Gee, honey, thanks a LOT." Another example is the donkey cigarette dispenser. Now, I know you can buy a mass-produced version from Archie McPhee, but mine was constructed from plywood, stained and decorated, and the thing actually works right every time. Cigarettes are put in the donkey’s back, and to dispense them, you push down the donkey’s spring-loaded head, and the cigarette comes out the donkey’s rear end. The loving effort required shows a certain naivete, engineering skill, and an excess of free time that amuses me.

Why do you think Americans are such great
producers and consumers of tacky items?

I believe there are three factors at play here. First, the United States of America is a wealthy nation, and even the lower middle classes have a fair amount of disposable income to spend on non-necessities. Second, there is a strong segment of our society that is lacking in taste, sophistication, and critical thinking skills which I like to call the "Tacky American Community." These people are easily and equally stirred into a frenzy by phrases such as "homeland security," "family values," and "this beanie baby will be retired next month." And third, there are politicians, media conglomerates, and promoters of the artificial collectibles market who love to exploit that attribute. How else can you explain the Hamilton Collection’s teddy bear figurine in full combat gear, carrying an M16 rifle?

Is it safe to say that we're the world leader in tackiness technology?

There are those who will point out that quite a few of my tacky treasures were actually manufactured in China or Japan. But I ask you: did the Chinese come up with the Jesus Inspirational Sport Statues (featuring Our Lord playing football, hockey, basketball, etc.)? Did the Japanese come up with Jasmine-Scented Angel Snot? I think not.

How do you go about collecting your tacky treasures?

I comb antique stores, thrift shops, flea markets, dollar stores, and the occasional auction. But tacky treasures, like greatness, are often just thrust upon me (e.g., the Christmas pooping reindeer in "Seasonal Tacky" and the boob salt-and-pepper shakers in "Nouveau Tacky"). In the past couple of years, I have had a harder time finding tacky treasures. I lay blame on the rousing success of eBay and Antiques Road Show. Everyone is looking harder at their stuff, and looking to make a quick buck. But the biggest problem I fear is that as they do that, they toss out the weird, oddball, tacky stuff that I crave, and think, "Who would buy THAT?" Perhaps I would. So, I’m branching out to auctions and estate sales because there’s more variety of what other people would consider junk there, and the possibility of a tacky find for me.

Have you ever gone to great lengths to acquire an item,
perhaps beyond the bounds of "normal" behavior?

Every year, for the past three years, I have held a "Tacky Treasures Road Show" at my house. Modeled after the PBS program, Antiques Road Show, invited guests are encouraged to bring in their tacky treasures to be appraised. My favorite part of the event is when I ask the famous question, "Do you have any idea how tacky this is?" Some people let me keep the items they bring...even beg me to!

Which is your most prized tacky treasure?

I have a certain fondness for the item I acquired first, the Mark Eden Bust Developer, which I bought at a church rummage sale more than twenty years before I ever thought up Julie’s Tacky Treasures. I don’t know what made me keep it all those years, except the fascination that I had with the knowledge that someone would exploit women’s vanity so blatantly with a product that they had to know didn’t work. You have to laugh at the audacity of manufacturing hundreds of these pink plastic clamshell devices, equipping them with a heavy duty spring, and claiming that they had the capability to transform the women who used them. Even the accompanying booklet packs a wallop of irony. If you weren’t convinced by the celebrity endorsement (you all remember June Wilkinson, of course), the description of the eight exercises might. After all, why would they need Exercise Eight, for developing a single breast in case of uneven results, if the bust developer didn’t indeed work?

Have you ever found an item so tacky
that you couldn't make yourself buy it?

The three-legged deer lamp was the first item that I couldn’t bear to purchase. Part of it was the price, $115, which I thought was outrageous, considering the ugliness of it. But in the end, what kept me from buying it was that I have several friends who are vegetarians, and out of respect for them, I couldn’t put such a thing in my home. It’s on my website because I snuck a digital camera into the antique store with me and photographed it.

Are these tacky treasures actually on display in your home?

Many are, but since I lean toward the smaller, decorative items, my house is not the cluttered museum that I fear many people picture it is. There are objects on the website that I don’t actually own, most significant of which is the rubber band vest, crocheted by my friend Carolee. It’s such a monument to misdirected adolescent angst and she would never part with it. Her husband, however, has privately confessed to me that he is not all that comfortable with it in their house. She keeps it under their bed, and he swears he can smell the rotting rubber as he sleeps. The love of a tacky treasure comes with a price.

Do your relatives or friends ever voice concern for you?

Generally, no. I feel obliged, however, to report the following: Last Sunday, as I reported to my family my latest acquisition (a rubber human nose, which, when squeezed, extrudes a double-barreled dose of snot), my mother remarked, "Couldn’t you collect fine art?" Also, a co-worker recently noted what she felt was my unhealthy obsession with the position of my website in a Google search for the word "tacky." (I’m number two! Woo Hoo!) But other than that, all my friends love a good tacky treasure.

Have other collectors of tacky treasures contacted you?
Was this encouraging or frightening?

Last year, I got an invitation, solely on the basis of my web site, to a tacky white elephant gift exchange. That’s how I acquired the egg white separator ("Mugs I’ll Never Drink Out Of"). Lately, I’ve been getting emails from people who have a Bols Ballerina liquor bottle like the one in "Ballerina Abuse." These people have no sense of humor or irony; they just want me to put a dollar value on this pathetic object. And although I have put the following disclaimer on the footer of every one of my web pages, I still get mail from these irony-impaired losers: "None of these items is worth much money. So, don't email me and ask what your Bols ballerina is worth. It's worth doodley-squat. If you can't appreciate it for its intrinsic tackiness, you should give it to someone who will."

What kinds of items have readers donated to your collection?

It varies: things they don’t want in their own house, things they see in their travels, or have found on the web. People who know me, and my standards for tackiness, do the best. I don’t want my house to be a dumping ground for other peoples’ sad junk. That’s why I have a disclaimer on my website that I reserve the right "to refuse donations of unredeeming tackiness."

Do you have a "Holy Grail" of tackiness that
you'd like to someday add to your collection?

There are two things that I’m looking for these days. The first is not only a "Holy Grail," it’s "one that got away." Many years ago, long before I started Julie’s Tacky Treasures, I recall being in a Salvation Army Thrift Store, and seeing a beautifully and realistically rendered pink ceramic lung. Ironically, it was an ashtray, and for some reason, I passed it up. Perhaps I was still a smoker at the time, I just don’t remember. I sure would like to have it in my collection now. The second item is one I’ve heard about, but haven’t seen: a bottle opener with a picture of the Pope on it, which I’ve heard is called a Popener.

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