Kitty Cane Ornament

You know the old saying, “With friends like that, who needs enemies?” Well I’ve got friends like that. Actually, that’s unkind — I’m sure she didn’t mean to do what she did…

She sent me a sweet gift, a pick-me-up between friends; she likely had no idea that she’d set the collector’s illness a-flowing through in my veins…

She sent me Kitty Cane (complete with red glitter and a pink poodle), one of the adorable, risqué pieces from the Alley Cats series.

The Alley Cat series of “glamour pusses and sex kittens rolled into some tough hair balls” is by Margaret Le Van Dominguez of Margaret Le Van Designs.

Daisilyn Monroe Alley Cat

If that name sounds familiar, you might remember the designer from her line of hand painted evening bags and custom totes (sold through MooRoo Handbags) which were seen on Friends and even made Oprah’s “O” List.

Prior to handbag fame, Margaret Le Van Dominguez was a professional decorative artist, specializing in faux finishes, trompe l’oeil murals and hand painted furniture. Now she splits her time between creating fine art and licensing her paintings, illustrations and other designs, including the delightfully whimsical Alley Cats.

Alley Cats are the purr-fect combination of humor and classic film glamour, so they hit all my hot buttons. Each feline has her own story, or bio — rather like (but shorter than) my other glam obsession, Gene Dolls — which fuels my fascination.

The polyresin Alley Cats appear on red carpets and even as domestic divas — always keeping their girlie glam. And there even are swanky male Alley Cats too!

Male Alley Cats

My Kitty Cane is an ornament, a product of Kurt S. Adler, Inc., but Artisan Flair, Inc. began producing the Alley Cats line in 2004 — which means I am four years behind!

And so that’s where my sweet, well-meaning friend has gone and done something she never meant to do — she’s got me thinking I can’t stop at just one… And I can’t even just settle for the new releases, but must be on the prowl for all the Alley Cats. So that’s what she’s done; she’s started me on another addiction, another collection. I honestly couldn’t be more thrilled — she’ll just have to live with the knowledge that she’s now my enabler. *wink*

Alley Cats

I recall one of our earlier garage sales. Our daughters were 5 and 6 and had a lemonade stand in the driveway leading to my mother-in-law’s garage. We were renting at the time and since her home had a basement, nice garage and lots of storage, having a sale at her place worked well for us.
Our daughters sat in their little sun dresses, lovingly made by my mother-in-law (a story for another time), hair in pigtails and sweet little faces. Folks would come and go and most were charmed by them, often giving them a dime or two whether they had a cup of the tart liquid or not.
Out of an old, worn-out Cadillac came a very tall gent. He had a baseball cap, long white beard and was chewing on a cigar. He took long strides, walked up to the lemonade stand, very purposefully and questioned in a loud voice “Got any FOBS?” The girls looked at each other and just stared. He was quite imposing, but also what had he asked? The younger one asked him “what did you want to know?” He said it again, this time with even more gusto “Got any FOBS?” By then, I had finished wrapping a customer’s purchase and walked toward them. I overheard his question and replied “Sorry, no we don’t.” He abruptly turned and got back in the car, driving off.
The girls still sat there, not sure what had just happened, and then they started to giggle. Then they chuckled, quietly at first and then it erupted into a full blown belly-laugh! Before their imaginations could lead them in a wrong direction, I went to the table and explained that the man had meant ‘pocket watch fobs’, generally medallions or ornaments that were attached to watch chains from years ago. These would aid in removing the watches from the vest pocket. At that time, they were highly collectible and sought after.
Through the years, this episode has brought some laughs. We have repeated it to friends and when the girls hear we are setting up at a flea market, one or the other inevitably asks “got any fobs?” We generally do, because they do not seem to be as collectible as in years gone by.
We’ve listed some on ebay recently and of the four we put on, only one sold. The other ones went to re-listing, and eventually, back to their box in the ‘inventory room.’ Most of the examples we have had through the years were advertising fobs, from companies such as Allis-Chalmers, Harnischfeger, Cutler-Hammer and the like. We also had quite a few from fraternal groups such as the Masons, Odd Fellows, Elks, Eagles and Modern Woodmen of America. Others were from insurance companies, banks, religious groups and various college fraternities.
We have a reproduction of an 1896 Marshall Field & Co. Catalog. There are quite a few “high end” fobs shown. The ones with 10 karat gold mountings went for $5-$11, the lesser ones for $1.50 to $3.00.These were also given to valued employees as presentation pieces, perhaps for long service or reaching a company-set goal.
Fobs were made of many materials including gold, platinum, sterling, leather, cloth even human hair. These hair pieces were lovingly made by the wives who saved strands in hair receivers on their vanities, then wove them for their husband’s cherished pocket watch. These still sell today, but more for the hair-jewelry-concept.
A few years back we were offered the chance to buy a collection of 700+ fobs, all of them advertising for manufacturing firms in the mid-west. We realized that these were not selling as readily as in the past and also that there are TONS of reproductions out there and these are not highly valued. So we passed. It is one of those things that you just never know for sure. But in hind-sight, we are glad we did not take them. We are just not seeing the sales where they should be. We mentioned this to a dealer-friend. He shook his head and said – who do you know that wears a pocket watch today? Even if they have a new one, or grandpa’s, with casual attire at work being so popular, you don’t see suits and vests being worn. Plus, many of the companies are gone and unknown to the collectors who are starting out today. I repeated our garage-sale-story to him and he laughed. He said a lot of younger folks would be laughing at that request today.
There are still a lot watch fob collectors out there, and from what we understand, an active group known as the International Watch Fob Collectors Association as well. But they do not seem to be as popular as years gone by. We wonder if they will make a come-back and we’ll see them proudly displayed by our grandsons – but it is doubtful.
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I vividly remember getting ready to go to my grandma’s house on Christmas Eve! Our family consisted of mom, daddy, my older brother Mike, younger sister Vicki and me! We would all get dressed in our “Sunday best”; the girls in dresses, my dad and brother in a sport coat and dress slacks; often a tie. Mom was clever because she’d pack more casual attire for after dinner so we could be more relaxed. But she tried to impress upon us how important it was to dress for the occasion.
Mom tried to ‘hasten the pace’ and keep us on some type of schedule, but usually one of us would pose a problem. Oftentimes it was Mike. He was not a ‘social butterfly’ by any stretch and would balk at the idea of getting dressed up, or being told to put his sports collectibles away for the night. He hated it when the aunts and uncles would make comments such as ‘how you’ve grown since last time we saw you.’ Often it was only a few months since we’d been together, but Mike seemed to be a ‘constant grower’, which was an exception in our family. Dad was only 5’9” and Mike ended up at 6’3”! But somehow, we’d all be ready to go, presents neatly stacked in the trunk, mittens located and coats on, ready for the ride.
Of course, we sang carols along the way, all the favorites! The windows would be pretty steamed up by the time we got there. In attendance were my grandparents, 5 sets of aunts and uncles, 8 cousins, a few good friends of my grandparents that we’d call “aunt” and “uncle” out of respect.

The house was always warm and welcoming, a real Christmas tree with lots of ornaments (many of which I wish I had today), a fire in the fireplace, decorations everywhere. My grandparents lived in the upper of a duplex that my aunt and uncle owned and the celebrations were held in the lower part and basement. (I was much older when I learned that my grandparents had borrowed my aunt and uncle the money for the house with the proviso being that they could live there as long as they wanted. And both grandma and grandpa lived to be in the late 80’s.)
We’d start out going up to grandma’s place and turning the stairway, we’d always rush quickly past her sewing room. She had a dress form near the window and we’d always imagine she was a person standing by the window – at the time, pretty darn spooky! We’d enter the room, getting hugs from everyone. We were a very affection family. (Years later, my new sister-in-law would comment “you people hug every time you leave the room to go to the bathroom!”) I loved to sit in the big chair by grandma’s crystal lamp. It had a really pretty pattern, looked like prisms. I found out that when my parents were newlyweds, they had given it to my grandparents for Christmas. And as luck would have it, my grandma gave it to me for our home when we were newlyweds. We have it in our bedroom and it still makes me smile to look at it. It is a treasure.
When everyone was there, we’d have a toast to “Merry Christmas” and “Happy New Year” and the kids would have ginger ale in a fancy wine glass so we’d all feel special. It bubbled like champagne and tickled your nose. Then came the moment we’d all waited for – opening of the presents! One year was really special.

My grandparents gave each of their 6 children an envelope (this was way before the times of giving gift cards, so no one had a clue what was inside.) I clearly recall all of the adults hugging, kissing and even crying when they opened them up.

The kids were confused and nothing was said for quite a while. I found out several months later that my grandparents had decided to give a little of the ‘estate’ early so they could actually watch the faces of their children, rather than being gone and unable to do that. They gifted each couple $1,000, which was huge in those days and still is a lot today. We got a new TV, one that did not need to be pounded to keep the picture still, and each of us got a new winter coat, even mom, who often was the last to get new things.

I think of that often, the concept of being able to see the reaction ‘in person’, it was a wonderful gesture and for my grandparents who came here from Austria in the early 1900s with virtually the clothes on their backs and a duffel bag, this was quite an accomplishment.
After the gift-giving we’d head down to Uncle Al’s basement/rec room for dinner.

Nicely decorated with a tree, lots of lights and the Christmas cards all hung on a ‘line. There’d be more toasting (a few of my uncles probably really got ‘toasted’) and they’d play the stereo and we’d dance for hours. About midnight it was time to go home, exhausted, happy and filled with more memories.
Today I sit here smiling, waiting for my family to arrive. Two beautiful daughters and their wonderful husbands, five gorgeous, beloved grandchildren, all ready to be hugged and welcomed. We try to keep some traditions but I am looked at in disbelief when I suggest Christmas carols, especially by our youngest granddaughter who suggests that we ‘sing tomorrow grandma.’

But the gift-exchange, story telling and reminiscing go on for hours. I look at each one and thank God for them and for having these sweet memories, from the past, and the present.
Wishing all who read our blogs a wonderful holiday season and marvelous memories.

As we get closer to Christmas, memories of “Christmases Past” come to mind. Most of them are heart-warming, some bitter-sweet, others chuckle-worthy.
Our family consisted of a mother, father, older brother, me in the middle and a younger sister. Pretty typical for a family of the 50s and 60s and my childhood was happy and uneventful. We began to prepare for Christmas right after the last remnant was plucked from the Thanksgiving turkey (we’d leave it out over night, nibble on it until morning and no one ever got ill.) The tree was always a fresh-cut one, purchased in the village we grew up in and usually dragged in the weekend after Thanksgiving.

We had a lot of ornaments, many from my mom’s family from Germany. I still have a few of them, but many were delicate and lost through the years.
We always had bubble-lights on the tree too, and lots of tinsel. My impatient brother would just grab a handful and ‘toss it anywhere.’ Mom and I would be very fussy, placing one strand at a time, giving the tree the look of icicles. We’d have to go back over my brother’s handiwork when he was through! Once the tree was done, we’d go to the windows and put up the ‘stencils’, that were made with “Glass-Wax.” You would sponge these onto the glass and they’d leave all sorts of decorations. There were bells and trees, snowmen, ornaments and Santa Claus. They always looked so cheery.
We would also decorate with ceramic bells – they were all over the place, on shelves, in curios and such. Mom said bells were so lovely; her favorite Christmas carol was “Silver Bells” and we still play the one by Johnny Mathis every year.

The best thing about decorating for the holiday season was that the whole family was involved. Nobody complained or said they did not want to pitch in. And there was always Christmas music in the background. It played on the big console Magnavox that was mom’s present one Christmas. It came with a bonus of 50 record albums and she picked a lot of them with a holiday theme.
Once we were done decorating, we’d put our gift lists together. They were usually pretty simple. My dad owned a small auto body shop and although we never had a clue, we lived pretty much from paycheck to paycheck. My mom stayed home to keep the house spotless, make wonderful meals and be there for us when we got home from school. My kids say I ‘grew up in a bubble’ because I never knew that we had very limited means.
On Christmas Eve we would pile in the car and head to grandma’s and grandpa’s house. They lived only 20 miles away but it seemed to take forever. We would sing Christmas carols along the way which made the time go faster. One Christmas Eve we were barely out of the driveway when my brother asked “what is that horrible smell?” Indeed, there seemed to be some odor, but we could not put our fingers on it. When we got to my grandma’s house, my aunt asked what that smell was so we knew it was not our imagination. Then we all looked at my kid sister, Vicki, for that’s where it seemed to be coming from. Well, years ago when you got patent leather shoes, you’d put Vaseline on them to keep them shiny and supple. She was about 5 years old and had wanted to help so she polished her own shoes. Where she erred was in using Vicks’ Vapo-rub instead of Vaseline! We all laughed about it and said she’d never get ‘cold feet.’
Another funny memory was from a Christmas Eve when my sister was about 7 years old. She came running up to my mother and said she was worried about Uncle Freddie, she said she thought he was dying! Mom said she should not be upset, that he was not sick! My sister replied “oh, yeah, well then how come Aunt Marion says he has a bug up his butt?” HAA! We told that one for years to come.

My Aunt Marion was a real hoot. If there were pictures in the dictionary, hers would be next to the word “feisty.” She was just full of it. If I had a nickel for every time her husband said “That’s not very lady-like, Marion!” I could have retired years ago.
My Uncle Al was also a real character. He and his wife, Mary, actually owned the house, a duplex, where my grandfolks lived. They had the lower unit and Christmas was held in their neat basement. It was always festively decorated and my Aunt Mary was a fantastic cook. She was never afraid to try unique recipes and things were always nicely presented. A class act! One time my Uncle Al gave me a toothpick with ‘chicken’ on it and said I should give it a try. It was good, and I asked for another. A little bit later I heard him tell my dad it was actually rattlesnake meat, but it TASTED like chicken. A not-so-fond memory, but always fun to share with friends!
It was always so wonderful to be at grandma’s house – the smells, the music, lots of hugs, so many smiling faces. Grandma would always make you feel that you were special; definitely her favorite. She’d always sneak me a loaf of her cinnamon bread or yummy snickerdoodle cookies when we were leaving. She’d tele me to put the bag under my coat so the others would not notice it. Years later, when comparing notes, I found that she’d do that to every one of us. We all laughed about it. Yes, Christmas when I was growing up was magical! It was an exciting time, wondering what you might be getting from Santa Claus, long after you should have believed. Now that we are the grandparents, we try our best to do the same for our grandchildren, letting them hang on to the ‘fun parts’ as long as they can and helping them making their own sweet memories.

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When the definition of kitsch is limited to tacky, regardless of price, there is no better place to display your poor taste than in your own yard.

Some folks call their expensive junk “artwork.” Welded together car bumpers and plumbing parts sprinkled with a hub cap and tire iron. And we all pass by and scream YAK. Somewhat upscale from that group are flame cut sheet steel objects, bent and twisted into almost recognizable shapes. Or concrete subjects in abstracts forms, filling the yards in artistic cities like Madison, Wisconsin or the East side of Milwaukee and surely some artsy community in your own area.

Today I passed by the rear end of an old finned Caddy, sticking up from the ground as if had run into a giant pothole, right in the middle of a front yard in a newly rediscovered, older neighborhood.

Over the years we have laughed at many kitschy fads for the yard such as trolls and mushrooms, cut-outs of cowboys, dogs and bent over gals. Cement everything from peeing boy fountains, flowerpots, animals, and especially deer, lots of deer. Wooden plaques of bunnies, flowers, sheep and little girls with sprinkling cans.

Now we all probably have some or at least one of these objects of kitsch in our yard. We have friends in a gazillion dollar house with a moose cut-out at full size in their backyard, and do we dare point out the tackiness of it? No!

And another friend with a frog that croaks when approached. But that one is our fault, we placed the frog clandestinely in their yard one night.

We have all passed a nice display in tasteful kitsch and marveled at its artistic value, but at what point does one go from tasteful décor to down right tacky? I think I may have reached that point. Well, how could it happen, does one intentionally decide to become a garden kitsch addict? Is it the friend that urges you to - just try one, everybody else does it, what harm could it do?

Oh Woe Is Me!! In this case study, it was my own fault. When we moved into our house, and decided to have a big party so everyone could see the place, I wrote up an invitation suggesting the only gift acceptable would be tacky yard ornaments. Oh my, what a mistake.

Among the most notable, we received a painted concrete penguin with plastic bow tie, several birdhouses dressed up as other objects, a real tombstone, a concrete stepping stone, several wooden cut-outs of flowers, and pink flamingos, one that was anatomically correct with two pink golf balls. (Trading tacky flamingos is another day’s story.) All items were initially placed in our yard to scare our new neighbors.

But alas that is how it started. Oh, we took down many of the objects, but “stored” the tombstone behind bushes, stepping stone in the garden and birdhouses hung in trees. All other objects were placed on rafters in the garage for re-gifting.

Today! Well, let me mentally wander through the yard, and see if you agree we have reached the ultimate in Dictionary defined garden kitschy.

A five foot metal pole from the roof of an 1880s building with large finial at top and a deteriorating arrow to point the wind direction sits at the beginning of our driveway.

A four inch square, three foot long hunk of red marble sticking up out of the ground, an iron gate is a trellis for tea roses, the stepping stones, the tombstone, a sundial, bird bath bases holding colorful bowling balls and one with a huge round lathe turned wooden ball, are all along a garden fence at the drive.

Then in back we have two fire hydrants; one is a Watrus of St. Paul.

One corn planter, a dozen antique steel wheels of various sizes and designs many not visible in summer, a drinking fountain converted to a bird bath , a cement pond made from a discarded Bradley Wash Fountain with added cement egret.

Two wind chimes, a dinner bell, two bird baths, another gazing ball - this one official purchased from Abler Art Glass, near Elkart Lake, Wisconsin home of Road America.

A granite pathway made from a headstone company’s scrap, a wooden sign pointing to the “Garden Path”, several small metal pieces from the ends of antique foot treadle sewing machine stands now used as wall art on the garage, and a Heron weathervane on our garage. And a flamingo with clothing for each season and holiday.

Not to mention two “art” pieces, one is a glass topped table with the base in the form of a sewer pipe and signed by the artist, Carl E Funk of Akron Ohio and dated 1945.

The other looks like the chaps of a bowlegged cowboy that we placed a faux Roman statue head atop. Both purchased in the upscale area of Lake Geneva, Wisconsin at estate sales.

There is the cement angel, several small gargoyles, and child’s head, all from broken statues rescued from an antique store back lot located in Iowa.

Now you judge, are we in need of treatment? Would a 12-step plan put us on the right path or would we stray back to our old garden path ways? Should we get an exorcist to pluck these demon objects from our yard or just learn to live with them, promising never to purchase another? Help us before we sin again.