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| This is the fifth installment
of my new column in the Hersam Acorn Press "The Home Monthly" |
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There is an odd little creature in the master bath at chez Ploss, four of them actually. They are small creatures, approximately six inches across and are either red or blue. They are bunniesque and there is nothing the Orkin Man can or should do about them. One clings for dear life to the mirror over my sink by it’s large ears and the other three are stuck in the shower, plastered to the omnipresent beige tile like a group of free-climbers half way up the face of El Capitain. The three all stare at me with the same semi-disturbing smile as I go about my business in this our “bibliothèque de porcelaine.” What is most disturbing is that Santa put them there. Oh Santa didn’t put them in the bathroom. He doesn’t even go into our bathroom; at least I don’t think he does. I suppose he would be welcome to “go” if he had to, I mean it’s the least I could offer besides the milk and cookies for him, the carrot for Rudolph and the cheese for Santa Mouse (whose life story is chronicled in a delightful book by Michael Brown). Of course now that I have mentioned even the possibility of Saint Nick using our facilities, we will have a new Plossville Christmas Eve tradition, that is, the wife-directed cleaning the bathrooms. The stockings are hung by our chimney with pride, so Santa puts assorted utensils inside. You see Santa always fills Mom and Dad’s stockings with cool and unusual kitchen and bath utensils and other small items (although the term “bath room utensils” makes me feel a little uncomfortable). Every year there are items from OXO GoodGrips, ConceptKitchen (things that make protecting and/or using your Palm, Handspring or Windows CE devices easier), and for Mom the latest Maeve Binchey book about dysfunctional Irish families hanging out in and around Quentin’s, the town bar. Last year, these perennial items were joined by the bizarre creatures from the German purveyor of the strange and unusual, Koziol (http://www.koziol.de). I had seen Koziol before. There are two stores in my neck of the woods that have carried their stuff for several years. Peter Keating’s Village Market had a rack at the end of one aisle (pre-remodel) that featured Coco cake knife with its large serrated plastic blade and feet, which keep the blade off the table and give it a cartoon alligator at rest look. There was Lemmi the lemon reamer and the upright postured I-Scream ice cream scoop and Gina the pasta spoon. Meanwhile, Keeler’s Hardware was displaying the Tweetie vegetable brush and the aforementioned Bunny suction hooks. There are a few Koziol pieces lurking around chez Ploss. We have the Tweetie vegetable brush, which, like a griffin, appears to be composed of parts from several different creatures. Tweetie has the feet of a smurf, the body of a duck, the head of a stereotypical LGM (Little Green Men or alien) and the hair (which forms the bristles of the brush) of Howie Long (the big guy from the Radio Shack commercials). Another of the “ideas for friends” at my domicile is Lemmi the lemon reamer, also of polymer with a little bipedal body, smurf feet and LGM head with a hair-do that resembles a traditional wooden lemon reamer. Dustin the whisk-broom/dust pan combo, which resembles a squirrel sitting on a large leaf, is a recent addition. That we had Koziol in the house before realizing it is a testament to its design. We have had Elise, a watering can (plastic) for several years. Elise has a body that starts wide at the bottom, becoming narrower at the top to form the spout, which gracefully bends to one side. Several summers ago we also bought a pink Mendini. This is not an exotic libation from a bar on Queens Boulevard but a plastic beach tote, logistical support for those weekend landings at the condo pool. Koziol has been creating “interesting” household items for over 70 years. Their tag line, ideas for friends, manifests itself in the grin that spreads across your face when you see and handle their products. They are cute. They are real cute. They are friendly. They foster in me the same feeling of subsurface mirth as when I see someone five foot, three and 115 pounds trying to get into their Hummer H2, or hear Michael Moore referred to as a documentary film maker. If there is a dark side to these little critters it is that they stare. They sit wherever you place them and stare at you. It’s as if they are begging to be handled and used. I may be getting paranoid but I caught Lemmi and Tweetie whispering something to Jake (the Java Programming Language mascot who sits on my desk) about Daggett (one of Nickelodeon’s Angry Beavers) who is perched on the bookcase across the room. Oh they got quiet when I walked in the room but I know they are up to something. As for décor? These products are definitely what one would call “stand alone” items. From a design standpoint, they may not fit in with your décor unless you are creating a set for the Children’s Television Workshop. Even in a contemporary home these items would fall into the non-blending category of household knickknacks. The very fact that Koziol does not blend is what makes them work practically anywhere. The life forms from Koziol seem specifically designed to draw attention to themselves, to be chuckled about but also to be used. If you want bathroom cups that match your toothbrush holder, soap dish and wastebasket, go to Washcloths N What Have You or Lounge, Looffah and Leave. Kozioloids are accents, exclamation points in a sea of normalcy. These are tools designed with a liberal amount of glee. They must be. You cannot create an overweight shark named Kai P that dispenses dental floss without being a happy person yourself. So these little ambassadors of whimsy do just that. They create happy moments for those who see and use them. What more would you want by your sink? They’re staring again. Discuss this column by going to And Another Thing Live! (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/andanotherthing). Skip can be reached via e-mail at aat@plossville.com |
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