I was wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. Follow me into the quaint, syrupy, nightmare world that is The Vermont Country Store.
Our first stop, women's wear! This is actually one of the safest of all places on that website, and it was educational, to boot:
And that's pretty much where the website stops being quaint and oddly appealing, and becomes downright terrifying:
And finally (for today), the most nightmarish thing of all:
It's Jingles!, the lone monkey who didn't gain the power of speech the night Jesus was born, and was so bitter about it that he made a deal with the Devil, and now whenever he breaks his eerie silence with a single crash of his cursed cymbals, someone, somewhere, dies a horrible death that scars the souls of all who witness it. In Stock. Requires two AA batteries and a small blood sacrifice.
Happy Dreams, all!
No, it means I don't give a fuck what you think I should wear.
Also VCS has all those horrible candies and gum from my childhood. The stuff I thought they didn't make any more. Like Walnettos and Necco wafers.
You young whippersnappers don't know shit about REAL junk food.
Now get off my lawn!
Muumuus look best worn with clashing pastel fuzzy slippers. I hear that's how they're doing it in Paris.
Until now, I did not know there was such a thing as an "enema wheel".
Hey, if they're good enough for Homer Simpson and Al Bundy, who are you to complain?
Rule 34, thunder.
Enema WHEEL OF FORTUNE!
Wow. The Vermont Country Store used to put out this plain vanilla recycled paper catalog with line drawings and purveyed the usual Vermonty crap like maple candy and leaf bouquets...
Oh my goodness. I use to live about 30 miles from there. Never stopped in because it just appeared to be a tourist trap. Thank you for not showing all the other goodies on the same page with the enema bag. I wonder if all of those items are on the same aisle as the scented candles and homemade soaps, or if they are in the room behind the curtain in the back corner.
What, no candy cigarettes?
I hear their steam-driven vibrators have been popular for over a century.
No one who's ever sported a muumuu has had a figure even vaguely resembling that of the poor starving mannequin.
Aw, cut it out, you guys. They're not that bad... for instance, one may obtain from them things like vintage scents, like Tweed (one of my teenage faves, for some reason; I don't care for most perfumes), that the parent co. ceased to make ages ago. I'm not sure how they do this, but it may involve a blue Police Box.
Also, one may obtain a real, honest-to-notbillgaites manual portable typewriter. Laugh if you like, but there's a place in some people's modern lives for old tech that still works well, can be fixed oneself within reason, and uses no electricity.
Any female who has spent a non-airconditioned mid-July day like the ones we've been having in most parts of the US of late, wearing the usual female garb which involves various bands of fabric strapped closely around the sweating torso, and who has then come home, stripped, showered, and then slipped on a loose, lightweight, completely unbinding garment that's long enough so no undies are needed to preserve the decencies (unless you stood directly over a fan pointing up, or got caught in a tornado), will not scorn the idea of the muumuu. They're not intended for hunt balls or gallery openings.
For that nasty clashing monkey, I hold no brief. They were horrible when first invented, they're horrible now. Right up there with Tressy dolls, and the original Clackers from the 70s, the ear-splitting ones the kids whirled round on a string like miniature bolos. I'll bet they were responsible for a few near-fatal accidents, as well as many, many hearing impairments.
O, it's fun being an old goatess.
I always wore Cinnabar or Opium perfume in wintertime until I found Habanita at VCS. Their S&H is overly pricey IMHO so I bought it on Ebay(trial size bottle and a minimal shipping fee to see if I'd like it) However, their clothing line shoves LL Bean right off the fashion runway to take first place in stuff I never wore and never will. And I'm an old goatess also!
Right up there with Tressy dolls...
You mean Crissy, dolls? I got two staring up at me from the yard sale box right now. They don't like it in the box.
Wasn't aware of Crissy, scripto, but following the link, I see that she is a hippie-esque successor to the Tressy empire. Same grotesque idea of more hair coiled up inside the doll's head that can be pulled out of a hole in the top, but Tressy came in the early 60s, Crissy in the late 60s. Tressy was, IMO, a little more horrible, not only because she was the initiatrix, the originatress so to speak, but because she had the multi-pouffed hairstyles of her era, and the sight of more of that blown-up hair, like some sort of whipped-up alien invasion, being pulled out of the top of her little plastic head with its vacuous wide-eyed face, by the little girls in the ads, was particularly bad. Just so wrong, as we say, on so many levels.
As you can tell, I've been permanently Tressytraumatized!
Your Crissies probably took some of the bad acid back when. I'd let them go free.
Pics or it didn't happen
Post a Comment