welcome to "kitsch connoisseur"

are we sick of talking about irony yet?

I googled the definition of “kitsch.” 

I thought it would be embarrassing if I called my newsletter “kitsch connoisseur” and I wasn’t even using that word right. But now I have a bone to pick with Google.

“Art, objects, or design considered to be in poor taste because of excessive garishness or sentimentality, but sometimes appreciated in an ironic or knowing way.”

I knew this shit was garish, but I didn’t realize that my enjoyment of it was supposed to be ironic. Or maybe that just means that I have poor taste. 

the steakhouse at the Madonna Inn, an absolute icon of kitsch

Because I promise you, I am not appreciating this in an ironic or knowing way. I genuinely think that’s an appropriate amount of pink for a room, provided the people eating there know how to have fun. I have not one but two novelty lamps in the same room of my house (one is shaped like a cheetah, one is humpty dumpty.) I have spent so many hours of my life bedazzling stuff. 

I love kitsch because it’s garish and sentimental. I feel no need to share a wink and nod with you when I show you my lamps. I’m not trying to show you that I’m in on the joke, because there is no joke. This is my stuff and I like it. You think it’s tacky? Okay. I was a theater major, I haven’t been cool in years. I don’t care if you think this is stupid.

(That’s a lie. God, that is such a lie!)

I may not enjoy kitsch ironically, but I am not above using that defense.

Everything I think I'm doing ironically is in fact humiliatingly sincere. I love the Twilight movies and The Bachelorette and Jersey Shore and I have never been watching any of them ironically. I love Taylor Swift and saying “lol” out loud and that emoji of the monkey covering its eyes. I think all of this is so profoundly embarrassing that I have at various points lied about liking it to friends and acquaintances and myself.

you know what else is embarrassing? i had this revelation in august and tweeted it, and then i just quoted that tweet in this essay! and it only got 10 likes!

I want to distance myself from these things because I know they’re not cool. Some of them contradict my values, and I don’t want to be seen as someone without self-awareness or media literacy or critical thinking skills. But, most importantly, I want to distance myself from them because they contradict the image of myself that I have constructed. The only real difference between the bad taste stuff I’m embarrassed by and the bad taste stuff I eagerly defend under the label “kitsch” is what fits into the aesthetic I’ve curated for myself over years of highly critical self-evaluation.

Like anyone who’s spent the majority of their formative years online, I’ve internalized the idea that I am always available for consumption. Everyone is a brand – our identities should be simple, easily identifiable commodities. This is especially true of artists. Twitter and instagram are marketing tools, and it’s not just the art that’s being marketed but the person who created it too. If you are likable and interesting online, people are more likely to follow you, to pay for your art, to care about the creative endeavors you pour your time and energy into making. If you’re likable enough, you can make a career out of it.

I’m an artist, too. I would like to make a career out of it. Are you looking at me?

Here is what I want you to see: I’m a playwright and a novelist. I live in an old house with my best friend, which we have decorated with thrift store art and quirky little tchotchkes. I read Joan Didion on the train and make tomato confit for dinner. I’m trying disgustingly hard to get you to like me, but you would never really know that, because I’m playing it cool.

Technically I’m not lying to you. I just haven’t shown you the whole truth.

So let’s try this – I’m going to let you in. Not a lot. Actually not very much at all. I don’t really want you to see me. But I’m going to tell you about some things I love, and try not to be embarrassed when the telling exposes me to your ridicule.

I love valentine’s day and rhinestones and theme hotels and marabou trim and bathrooms where the sink and toilet and bathtub are all pink. I’ll be writing about a different garish love of mine every week or so, with photos and stories and bits of research. Subscribe if you’d like to join me in a celebration of the gaudy, tacky, and overwrought.

xoxo

Franny 💋

p.s. i made a glitter text graphic for you guys - very kitsch. did you know that blingee doesn’t let you register a new account anymore? i had to use a website from 2007 called commentslive instead. rip </3