Hollywood House Hunting: Finding The Wonder Years

For Americans, November is a month dedicated to gratitude.  Veterans' Day offers us the chance to be grateful to members of our armed forces, recognizing them for the innumerable sacrifices associated with their service.  And while it is being ever more co-opted by greedy retailers, Thanksgiving is the holiday we have collectively consecrated for counting our blessings.  There is so much for which we at wacky tacky are grateful and one of those things is good, old-fashioned nostalgia.  Nostalgia is the very fuel for the wacky tacky fire and, in a way, this blog is my method of expressing my thanks.  

I've realized lately that I have aged to the point where I am starting to get nostalgic for my own youth.  This has created a weird paradigm because many of the programs I watched in my youth were themselves shows about nostalgia, not the least of which was The Wonder Years.  I find myself layered in compound nostalgia when recalling The Wonder Years because it was a show about family that we always watched together as a family.  Gathered around a hand-me-down television, I remember splitting my time between watching the show and watching my dad watch the show.  Of an age that would have made him a contemporary of Kevin Arnold, The Wonder Years allowed my dad the luxury of vicariously reliving some of the sweetest moments of his youth.  Rapt with nostalgia, I can still hear my folks humming along with the music and saying, "Oh, we had a stove just like that," and "We were the first on the block to get a color TV."  Is it absurd to think with a fair measure of confidence that my dad's inner monologue is voiced by Daniel Stern?

The Wonder Years (1988-1993)

We are lucky enough to have reels and reels of 

similarly-styled home movies shot by my grandpa.

For as much affinity as I have for the show, I will admit to never being fully satisfied with the outcome of The Wonder Years.  Call me corny, but *SPOILER ALERT*, Kevin and Winnie should have ended up together.  I am not the kind of person who really appreciates vagaries, loose ends, or complicated endings.  If you ever find yourself wondering what I value in my entertainment, you can be sure that it is pure, unadulterated fantasy.  Don't get me wrong; I'll allow my favorite shows to be riddled with conflict as long as the end sees everything tied up in a nice, neat, symmetrical bow.

As thankful as I am for the nostalgic storytelling of The Wonder Years, I do have a couple of gripes.  Jack should've softened and lived into old age so he could enjoy his grandchildren and celebrate the success of his wife. Wayne should've...well, Wayne did okay; taking over his old man's furniture business was probably as good as it was going to get for Wayne.  I think that life can be so scary, so unpredictable, so messy that, if just for one moment of make-believe, the promise of an Arnold-Cooper union would have made the world seem right.  I want what skeptics view as unattainable perfection; I can appreciate that it might seem naive, but I embrace the belief that if we aim for the moon and fail, at least we'll end up amongst the stars.

The Arnold family at home

At the very least, we'll end up amongst the homes of the stars.  In this case, the home of the Arnold family, nestled in the charming, suburban sprawl of Burbank, CA.  Included on our list of blessings-to-count is the fact that, more than twenty years after the show's finale, the Arnold home remains virtually unchanged.  From the white shutters, to the patchy front lawn, to the hedgerow, that edifice was so comforting in its familiarity that as we pulled up could almost hear Kevin asking Norma, "Hey mom, What's for dinner?"  We could almost see Winnie and Paul waving to us from the curb.

Cynthia giving us her very best Paul Pfeiffer
The roof has been replaced and a few windows have been updated, but number 516 is unmistakably Arnold.

Like many others, I'm fully aware that very rarely does life follow the escapist story lines of our dreams.  I can't say with any surety whether it happens slowly or in the blink of an eye, but I know how the magic veil of childhood innocence is lifted with age.  I know what it is like when, in an instant, life changes forever.  I know loss.  I suppose it is the harsh realities of life that make us more profoundly grateful for the moments of light, and laughter, and joy.  And while I feel like a late-bloomer still working through some of the challenges of finding my place in the world, I must remember to pause and give thanks for my story line thus far.  I must remember the blissful days of one imperfect family gathering to watch and relate to the struggles and triumphs of another imperfect family.  It is funny how something as simple as a television house can elicit such gratitude for my very own wonder years.

The Arnold Family Home

516 University Ave

Burbank, CA

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Chow Time: Tio's Tacos

I used to laugh derisively at self-righteous celebrities who would tout themselves as "spiritual" rather than religious.  The subtext always read that, in their enlightened transcendence, we plebeians had been left behind in a fetid miasma of simple faith.  As I mature (at a pace slower than any approved by modern developmental guidelines), I find in myself the ability to experience the spiritual, outside the confines of religion.  In situations quite devoid of church-sanctioned sanctity, I feel a genuine sense of peace.  In places quite unexpected, I feel a connection to the Divine.  I mean, imagine having a spiritual experience at a taco shop!!!

"Bienvenidos A Su Casa."
Tio's Tacos #1 Mariscos y Centro de Frutas Naturales (est. 1990) - Riverside, CA

Like a modern master filled with the spirit of Grandma Prisbey, Sam Rodia, and Art "Der Tinkerpaw" Beal, Martin Sanchez began Tio's Tacos as an expression of his culture, his history, and his faith.  Proving that wacky tacky isn't relegated to history or high finance, Sanchez weathered an unsteady economy and the uncertainty of the food-service industry to build this mecca of wacky tacky, turning a sidewalk vendor's cart into a chockablock city block in less than twenty-five years.  Seemingly founded on the principles of family, food, and thrift, this Mexican-restaurant-cum-folk-art-installation transforms what most would describe as garbage (think tin cans, broken bicycles, car parts, empty bottles, used toys) into a fantasy land of mermaids, myth, and pop culture.  Here, enveloped by the embrace of highly-personal artistic expression, Mr. Tiny was feeling downright holy! 

The ever-evolving landscape of meandering gardens, oyster-shell footpaths, mosaics, and
statuary are highlighted by grand-scale figures - mermaids, acrobats, spacemen, and more.
We're guessing that Popeye's tin-can-lid bell-bottoms all came from canned spinach - recycling at its best! 

Many of the giant figures are cleverly built around the trunks of the property's many towering palm trees.

Lest you think that we are overstating the grandeur of Sanchez' work,
I've included Mary, who stands at six-feet tall, for scale.

The technique of binding castoffs with chicken wire
is as surprisingly-genius to me as it is to Betty Boop!

If there is one thing I appreciate far less than a spiritually-superior celebrity, it is a movie quoter.  Why did it take so long for Austin Powers' "Yeah, baby!!!" to go away?  Well, in a further admission of my own reluctant maturity, I have come to realize that this prejudice is an example of me disliking a quality in others that I exhibit all too often.  I frequently quote movies; it's just that the movies I tend to reference are generally greater than fifty years old (or at least movies set in a bygone era).  When walking the grounds of Tio's Tacos, only one thought came to mind, a quotation from A Christmas Story.  Like Mr. Parker faced with the major award of that infamous leg lamp, the only words I could utter when faced with the awe-inspiring wonder of this taqueria were, "It's, it's, it's...it's indescribably beautiful!"

But I guess my sense of spirituality wasn't too misplaced; Tio's sprawling grounds also include a chapel built of
bottles, mirrors, statuary, and assorted recycled material.  We were particularly fond of the picture mosaic dome.

Out of everything, my real obsessions were the bottle-glass walls that caught the light beautifully
both inside and out.  I really fell in love with these walls - call it a harlequin romance!!

Reminders of Sanchez' faith and his native state of Michoacan abounded.
I felt like heavenly signs were everywhere.

I guess it is at this point where I should say that there are also plenty of signs at Tio's Tacos of a far more secular nature - "Cuidado: Suelo Mojado," "Do not leave children unattended," "We will not be responsible for any damages or accidents that occur," "Photographs taken for commercial purposes are prohibited."  Just so readers and Tio's management are aware, as of publication of this post, wacky tacky and Mr. Tiny remain entirely unremunerated for any of our activities and adventures (although we wouldn't necessarily turn our noses up at an offer....).

We're just here for FUN!!!

And real fun can be found in some of Tio's more sophisticated offerings.

We spent so much time wheeling around the grounds on our pint-sized trikes that we almost - almost -  forgot to eat.  We made our way into the actual restaurant, past a three-dimensional, marine-life diorama and the jewel box of mouth-watering aguas frescas.

We left so little time to eat that we both ignored the house recommendations and just panic-ordered the taco salad at the counter.  We were given the obligatory chips and salsa, which incidentally is the best part of any Mexican restaurant meal, and were sent to get our aguas frecas.  I opted for guayaba (my favorite) and Mary spent an inordinate amount of time sampling juices and having a custom-blend concocted that included chia seeds (I warned her that the side effects of ingesting chia seeds include an unexpected green mohawk sprouting up at inopportune moments).

There are many dining areas from which to choose;
we chose to eat near the chapel.  A fiddle player
followed us to add a little musical accompaniment to
our lunch.  He and Mary make a handsome couple, no?

There is definitely nourishment for the body and soul at Tio's Tacos #1 Mariscos y Centro de Frutas Naturales.  It may seem a hackneyed phrase but one man's trash is certainly another man's, namely Martin Sanchez' treasure.  Tio's Tacos is his gift to the City of Riverside and to this wide world of wacky tacky lovers!

Tio's Tacos #1 Mariscos y Centro de Frutas Naturales

3948 Mission Ave

Riverside, CA

(951)788-0230

tiostacos1.com

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

B-I-N-G-O!!!!

Do you remember your first day of junior high school - not knowing where to go or where to sit, hoping you had the correct supplies, looking around for someone to show you the ropes, smelling the acrid stench of mystery body odors, stale cigarette smoke, and denture adhesive?  Oh...perhaps I am confusing junior high with Bingo Night at the local Elks Lodge.

Driving by the Elks Lodge on a regular basis as part of my thrifting rounds and seeing the sign advertising the weekly Bingo game, I always thought to myself, "We've got to get to Bingo Night tout suite!" Well, several months and several drive-bys later, we finally made it to Bingo.  If you're as unfamiliar with professional Bingo as I was, the realities of an evening spent playing are rather accurately summed up in this episode of Roseanne (not much of an exaggeration and a bonus for featuring Edie McClurg).

 Selected scenes from "Roseanne Plays Bingo" - Roseanne

As a Bingo beginner, I wasn't sure what to expect at Bingo Night but I was secretly hoping it would be exactly like Roseanne.  Fortunately, Bingo Night delivered fully on the promised the sit-com's portrayal of grandmotherly types taking rather seriously this game of chance.

Although it's a popular method of making something old and seemingly-boring sound exciting, the phrase "This isn't your grandmother's Bingo" could not be further from the truth.  Indeed, Bingo Night at the Elks Lodge is very much your Nana's Bingo; what it isn't is your Bingo.  This is not the childhood game with a single five-by-five, square card and a bunch of coins, beans, or buttons.  What Bingo Night is is a three-hour exploration into the human desire to exploit the mystery of luck.  Rows and rows of fortune hunters hold court with their lucky cats, troll dolls, photos of dead relatives, $90-120 worth of bingo sheets, and of course, their color-coordinated bingo markers (some with ergonomic grips)!  This Bingo had a computerized Bingo King machine.  This Bingo had fast-paced, high-stakes rounds of play.  This Bingo had light boards, and sound equipment, and multiple video monitors.  This Bingo was going to leave us in its dust if we didn't catch up!

As soon as we entered the hall, we were marked as beginners - we came prepared with neither Bingo talismans nor markers, we had bingo game sheets that had to be replaced twice because we immediately messed them up, and we wore facial expressions reserved for the recently lobotomized.  Arriving just a few minutes late for the earlybird game, we had to find seats at the very front of the hall.  As we wound our way to the last remaining tabletop not already plastered with Bingo sheets and assorted Bingo paraphernalia, I sensed that my novice's confusion was directly related to the confusion of seasoned onlookers; only then did I remember that my Bingo-night attire suggested that I was an old pro.

B-I-N-G-O and Bingo was his name-O!!!
I might not know how to play Bingo, but I know
how to dress for Bingo!  I said that I wanted to
dress silly but, as a newcomer, not garner too much
attention (the Bingo hall can draw a pretty tough crowd).
 With only a few minutes to throw something together, I
settled on polyester high-waters in brown houndstooth,
a barkcloth aloha shirt, a golden cardigan, black socks
and white, tasseled loafers - Bingo Night perfection!

Fortunately, we were taken under the wing of a surprisingly-young and helpful woman who told us that she makes the Bingo scene every week.  She did her best to explain the basics but it was clear that our propensity toward uncomfortable giggling combined with our endless questioning was not going to make us favorites among our tablemates.  Frankly, I believe there was a prevailing and very-genuine concern that our lack-of-beginner's luck was going to rub off.  Seeing that we were still unable to fully decipher the details on the program outline, we even got a couple pointers from the Bingo caller himself!

As with any subculture, there is a certain amount of associated jargon - "Bingo Lingo" if you will (or even if you won't) - that must be learned if one wants to thrive in the Bingo world (see: "Lightning Dog," "Crazy Kite," "Money Train").  But Bingo, which incidentally is the most mundane form of gambling (beating out Rock, Paper, Scissors and a coin toss by a wide margin), extends far beyond a game; Bingo people are a race unto themselves, complete with their own stereotypes.  There is the elderly man who keeps shouting "Bingo" even though he is nowhere near a win; we'll call him Paul...because that was his name.  There is the ancient lady who makes everyone aware that she has outlived every single one of her teeth by abstaining from dentures and constantly exercising the agility of her tongue.  There is the hardcore Bingo addict who arrives early to stake out prime real estate and spends an inordinate amount of time arranging his markers, charms, and homemade blackout chips.  There is even the disgruntled woman of an age made indeterminate by extreme living whose chronic, hacking cough is interrupted only long enough to voice aloud her complaints about "newbies," cheaters, and less-than-adequate Bingo callers.

There is the new guy who thinks it's all a big joke.
Wait a second...that's me...

What I didn't think was a joke was the cost and duration
of Bingo Night.  Averaging only one dollar per game
(if one plays only one sheet - a highly-unusual practice),
it definitely adds up in both money and time; we
were there for over three hours!

Friends have asked if we won and all I can say is that the evening transcended financial gain - which I guess translates to "no."  While our Bingo Night might have exclusively been an emotional win, we definitely came away feeling like champions...at least in the dental department (which is actually saying quite a lot).

Oh, "B-4" I forget, I wanted to know, do you Bingo?  Is your local Bingo Parlor as technologically advanced as the Elks Lodge?  Have you ever had a big Bingo payday?  When was the last time you screamed out "BINGO" in a public forum?  If it has been a while, I say get thee to a Bingo Hall!  

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Profiles in Vintage: Swellegant

On top of having the longest-running vintage store, with the BEST name in Orange County, Nicole of Swellegant Vintage Clothing & Accessories in Newport Beach, CA is really cool.  Stop by her shop any day of the week, and you will likely find her steaming clothes, listening to killer music or taking a nap on the sofa.  Ask her a few question and you'll find that she has some crazy stories and is a trained pilot.  We were fortunate enough to walk through the doors of Swellegant and ask Nicole a few questions about life in the vintage clothing business.

Through these doors, one can soak in
 the font of Orange County vintage.

WT: You are a trained aviatrix with a mane of the most brilliant vermillion, may we refer to you as the Red Baron?
Swellegant: Please don't.

Nicole, Ben, and Mary involved in a very serious discussion at Swellegant

WT: Okay, okay.  You have the best name in the business.  How did you come up with the name for your store?
Swellegant: I came up with the store name from the musical High Society written by Cole Porter.  Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby did a number about a "swellegant, elegant party" in the song "Well, Did you Evah?"  I dislike watching musicals but I guess this one changed my life?

"Well, Did you Evah?"

High Society (1956)

WT: How long have you been in the vintage clothing business?
Swellegant: I have had the shop for 15 years but I started selling to other shops almost 20 years ago.

wacky tacky loves Swellegant because the prices are great and it is a real
vintage store.  It is not one of those vintage museums where they act like
they are doing a huge favor to society and where the prices are so high
that the inventory, however beautiful, never moves.

WT: What got you started in the business?

Swellegant: I got started in the business by selling vintage to other shops to pay for college.  In high school I had no desire to be part of the norm.  I found the very best way to express this was through clothing.  This led me to second-hand stores, flea markets, etc.  In my quest for non-verbal self expression I noticed the obvious - fashion repeating itself.  I also realized that any repeat is usually a poor imitation of the original.  There had to be a market for the amazing items I found but had no personal desire to wear.  In need of funds for my education and entertainment I turned to something I enjoyed doing on an almost daily basis (it's like crack) into a profitable venture.

My favorite fixture in the shop is this mini, carousel giraffe turned purse rack!

WT: For what items are you on the hunt?

Swellegant: These days it is all over the place.  At the shop I do not specialize in any one era.  The racks represent a broad spectrum of vintage styles.  I have to keep up with what the mass, vintage-shopping population is looking for.  In the past, I used to only shop for items in near-perfect condition but now things are appreciated for their flaws and wear.  Sadly, sometimes that means eras that I personally love have less of a place at Swellegant.

WT: It seems like the range of eras which you stock must have broadened since you have been in business.

Swellegant: It has definitely broadened further than I could have imagined.  90's is now vintage???!!!  I started wearing vintage in the 90's because I didn't want to wear that stuff.  Now I have to buy it.

WT: What is your favorite era?

Swellegant: I jump from the 30's-50's.  It depends on my mood or the occasion.  I would have to say, if I had to pick, it would be the 40's - IT'S THE SHOES!!!

Shoes currently available at Swellegant

WT: What is the best vintage item that you have ever found/bought/sold?

Swellegant: No one item comes to mind with such eminence.  I am constantly on the hunt and am constantly adding/subtracting wardrobe items.  If I love it, I usually don't sell it.  At one point in my sinking, college financial situation, I sold almost 100 of my best Bakelite bracelets.  That was painful to say the least.  I thought that some day I would buy them back but other priorities and items have taken precedence.

WT: What is your ideal vintage item?  Have you found it yet?

Swellegant: There isn't any one item that I would say is ideal.  To me, getting dressed is synergistic - the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.  I have plenty of single pieces that I wouldn't consider ideal on their own but you don't know if you have found it until you have put it all together.

Modesty hats

WT: You are always dressed perfectly for every occasion, do you have any style icons?
Swellegant: I wouldn't say that I have any real style icons; there are so many great names in fashion.  Idolizing another's style is a substitute for a lack of style.  I may recreate looks I have seen - hopefully with my own flair.  If not, I would hope that the originator would view my interpretation as a form of flattery and think my emulation does their stye justice.  Are there any truly original ideas when it comes to fashion anyway?

WT: Do you have a dollar limit on rare/desirable items?

Swellegant:  Not being of infinite means, of course I have a dollar amount.  I walk away from items all the time due to price.  If I am going to obsess about an item then I would rather pay to have it instead of obsessing. Mental peace is worth more than cash.  I don't really hold money in high regard and I tend to be self-indulgent especially when it comes to clothes.  I would never go into debt for fashion though; I only spend money I have and consider disposable.

WT:  Do you find that running your own business allows you more or less freedom?

Swellegant: In theory, working for yourself allows you more freedom.  In reality, I have less.  It is probably a personal character trait that denies me this freedom.  I find myself working almost all of the time, at the shop or not.  Vintage is a lot of work; when people come into my store I don't want to let them down.

WT: Is managing this business easier, harder or just as difficult as you imagined?

Swellegant:  It is a bit harder than I imagined.  I think I made it so by doing everything.  It is difficult for me to delegate tasks.  I am trying to let go of the "If I don't do it myself, then it is never done right" mentality, but it is an interpersonal struggle.  It's funny because in my social life I am VERY easy going; the less I have to do to amuse myself, the better.

Dressing rooms at Swellegant

WT: Is this your dream job? Why?

Swellegant: For the most part it is my dream job.  I love treasure hunting and people's appreciation for what I bring to them through my store.  It is very rewarding when you see their excitement as they enter the door and even more so when they find a perfect addition to their wardrobe because of you.  Although at times the store feels like "job," I do feel self-actualization overall.

WT: Can you see yourself in this career forever?

Swellegant: I am pretty sure this is it for me.  At times I get restless and long for the mental stimulation that I found prior to working in retail.  I guess that is what travel and articulate friends are for?

Is she calling us articulate?  I'm not sure, but if you know what's good for you, you'll be sure to visit the Swellegant website and like Swellegant on Facebook!  Better yet, stop by Swellegant in Newport Beach and find yourself some great new threads!

Nicole and Mary carefully examine a pair of neon jogging shorts.

Swellegant Vintage Clothing & Accessories
3409 Newport Blvd
Newport Beach, CA
(949)673-3604

swellegantvintage.com

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny