REQUIEM FOR A PINK FLAMINGO
Union Products of Leominster Mass has shut down its last remaining production line and just like that, the neon-pink, plastic lawn flamingo has gone the way of the ivory-billed woodpecker. That icon of the American landscape is now deader than a dodo.
Isn't that just the last straw? Well, screw you world!
I've always loved plastic pink flamingos, even before they became koolkitsch -- and well before Jenny Price's moving requiem for the plastic birds in her Op Ed piece in the Times (Friday, Nov. 17) -- the inspiration behind this PNL.
Even when the lawn ornament was co-opted by the Gay Games as a mascot for the "Pink Flamingo Relay," I felt secure enough in my masculinity to proudly display my neon lawn birds. Back when marriage was still between a man and a woman, pink flamingos adorned the tops of wedding cakes. Only weirdos put little plastic brides and grooms on top of their pastry. How tacky! Both my wedding cakes had pink flamingos. It seems to bring good luck.
As the premiere lawn decoration of the 1950's, the pink flamingo distinguished the ticky- tacky little boxes of Levittown, Long Island, where every other house stood out. There, swaying in the breeze, the resin birds gave scale to their claustrophobic settings.
Lost between those notable, flamingo-festooned, postage-stamp sized yards were the yards with the tacky green and blue "Christmas Ball" pedestals that told everyone you had coodies. One could always tell the elitists and the racists by their black-jockey-hitching-post lawn ornaments. Cast iron stableboys with big red lips and bulging white eyes stood at the ready for their horseless masters.
Of course, the pink flamingo soon became a national phenomenon. Migrating south to Miami and west to San Diego, "Flamingo Gringos," as the yard artists were known, left no yard behind. Soon the gentle pink flamingo replaced the bellicose bald eagle as the national bird.
The original pink flamingo was designed, appropriately, by Don Featherstone, a man of dubious taste whose signature was cast right into the mold. They originally sold for $2.76 a pair plus tax and now, when you can find them, they command more money than your car.
I have friends with vintage pink flamingos (and the last car port in Chappaqua) and every several years I slip into their driveway under cover of darkness and steal them. As close as we are, they threaten legal action until I return them (or facsimiles of them).
Simply put, tasteful lawn ornaments (like the pink flamingo) make everything better. Somehow disease, starvation, loneliness and war all seem better when you have the correct lawn ornament.
For instance, were you to walk through the woods, you'd see an ugly tangle of trees and underbrush held together by poison ivy. Boring. Throw in a pink flamingo, and the space wrapping around it suddenly gets defined. It gets scale. You start to see the forest for the trees. The world was an ugly place prior to the plastic pink flamingo.
As a symbol of bad taste, the pink flamingo has always defined my aesthetic sensibilities. Instead of gathering yardbirds, today we have gathering threats. Now that the gentle plastic flamingo is extinct, I hope we can still find our way through the dark landscape left behind when the Republican machine finally ground to a halt.
Union Products of Leominster Mass has shut down its last remaining production line and just like that, the neon-pink, plastic lawn flamingo has gone the way of the ivory-billed woodpecker. That icon of the American landscape is now deader than a dodo.
Isn't that just the last straw? Well, screw you world!
I've always loved plastic pink flamingos, even before they became koolkitsch -- and well before Jenny Price's moving requiem for the plastic birds in her Op Ed piece in the Times (Friday, Nov. 17) -- the inspiration behind this PNL.
Even when the lawn ornament was co-opted by the Gay Games as a mascot for the "Pink Flamingo Relay," I felt secure enough in my masculinity to proudly display my neon lawn birds. Back when marriage was still between a man and a woman, pink flamingos adorned the tops of wedding cakes. Only weirdos put little plastic brides and grooms on top of their pastry. How tacky! Both my wedding cakes had pink flamingos. It seems to bring good luck.
As the premiere lawn decoration of the 1950's, the pink flamingo distinguished the ticky- tacky little boxes of Levittown, Long Island, where every other house stood out. There, swaying in the breeze, the resin birds gave scale to their claustrophobic settings.
Lost between those notable, flamingo-festooned, postage-stamp sized yards were the yards with the tacky green and blue "Christmas Ball" pedestals that told everyone you had coodies. One could always tell the elitists and the racists by their black-jockey-hitching-post lawn ornaments. Cast iron stableboys with big red lips and bulging white eyes stood at the ready for their horseless masters.
Of course, the pink flamingo soon became a national phenomenon. Migrating south to Miami and west to San Diego, "Flamingo Gringos," as the yard artists were known, left no yard behind. Soon the gentle pink flamingo replaced the bellicose bald eagle as the national bird.
The original pink flamingo was designed, appropriately, by Don Featherstone, a man of dubious taste whose signature was cast right into the mold. They originally sold for $2.76 a pair plus tax and now, when you can find them, they command more money than your car.
I have friends with vintage pink flamingos (and the last car port in Chappaqua) and every several years I slip into their driveway under cover of darkness and steal them. As close as we are, they threaten legal action until I return them (or facsimiles of them).
Simply put, tasteful lawn ornaments (like the pink flamingo) make everything better. Somehow disease, starvation, loneliness and war all seem better when you have the correct lawn ornament.
For instance, were you to walk through the woods, you'd see an ugly tangle of trees and underbrush held together by poison ivy. Boring. Throw in a pink flamingo, and the space wrapping around it suddenly gets defined. It gets scale. You start to see the forest for the trees. The world was an ugly place prior to the plastic pink flamingo.
As a symbol of bad taste, the pink flamingo has always defined my aesthetic sensibilities. Instead of gathering yardbirds, today we have gathering threats. Now that the gentle plastic flamingo is extinct, I hope we can still find our way through the dark landscape left behind when the Republican machine finally ground to a halt.
posted by R. Reynolds at 10:04 AM
6 Comments:
Everyone reading this blog needs to know that Rick Reynolds is a flamingo thief!! He abducted mine last year along with my smiling stone buddha. He was jealous because I have the coolest lawn ornaments in Chappaqua.
Well Mr Reynolds, be forewarned, I've attached GPS devices to all pink flamingos in my yard. If you go trying to steal them again, you'll be sorry!
And what's with the wimpy teeny tiny winged pink flamingos in your yard? Couldn't find any of the authentic ones??
s :)
Wow s. You need an anger management class. Flamingos are like children. We can care for them, but never own them. Where did you say you live?
my 2 pink flamingos were very upset when i informed them of rick's sad news, and were alarmed at mr. rick's penchant for flamingo thievery.
they were, however, extremely relieved when i assured them that mr. rick has no clue as to where i live.
h
Lawn ornaments scare me. Why don't their owners just paint, "I am an asshole" on their roofs?
To the previous (obviously insecure) commentator, I don't paint messages on my roof because my plastic Santa sled and reindeer would render them unreadable.
lawn communications are the rage. wish my town allowed billboards.
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