Marque à L'Aigle

As long as we're on the theme of posters that will confuse your house guests, let me point out this bit of fabulousness, perfect for that vast tundra of bare wall over your couch. 

At first glance, this is a perfectly charming, normal, turn-of-the-century poster. The rosy faces and plump dollops of snow fit in with that whole Cheret "Palais de Glace" genre (again, worth a google if you're not familiar--Cheret's work is some of the most iconic of the last century). 

But then, you notice something a bit odd: where are the old man's feet? 

Now, if you have a solid knowledge of French, there's a rather ridiculous little limerick off to the side about shoes and amputated limbs (why someone thought that was an appropriate advertising avenue to go down, I don't know); however, let's just think about the image itself and what your non-francophone friends will surmise...

1. The elderly gentleman was so entranced by the shoes that he stood outside the window for many hours, during rain, sleet, and hail, until finally about 5 inches of precipitation built up around his feet, freezing them to the ground. 

2. During a freak kitchen accident, he lost both of his lower extremities. The doctor on call had to make a split-second decision, resulting in his using industrial-sized forks for prosthetics. He now has the added bonus of excellent traction, and makes a fine living cleaning up trash in local parks. 

3. This man really is a war veteran, and the advertising industry would rather portray amputees as jovial bon-vivants than their George Grosz/Otto Dix counterparts. 

I'm not even going to touch on what the flesh-toned tail protruding from the rear of his coat is supposed to represent.....other than possibly the tail his faithful dog seems to be missing. 

Make Way for Paté

Hopefully someone else out there read "Make Way For Ducklings" as a child and got that reference....if not, oh well. The poster doesn't even show a duck, so it's not exactly all that relevant anyway. 

Moving on, here we have a poster I love so hard. So hard is my love, in fact, that I've had it over my couch in both my London and New York residences. And no matter which side of the Atlantic it's been hung, no matter how full of other fabulous artworks my respective apartments have been, this is the framed wonder that every guest to enter my home drools over. It's just that cool. 

Here we have Mrs. Goose (well, technically Her Royal Highness, Mrs. Goose, given the crown). HRH Goose is toodling along down the street, waddling a very dignified waddle, all gilded feathers and shiny webbed toes, when suddenly she encounters an extra-large can of paté. And not just any paté, my friends, but L'oie d'Or, the veritable Queen o' Foie Gras--so royal that its got its own crown. 

At this moment, HRH Goose realizes the sad truth: her darling husband, Mr. Gander (also of HRH status) has been done in by some sick lover of paté and turned into a handsomely-packaged consumer item. Oh, the humanity! Yet, rather than bawl her little goose eyes out, she retains her nobility, jumping the entire 12-step coping process, and bows her head toward that which was her beloved Gander, acknowledging that even in death, he retains his deliciousness. 

If that's not a fabulous endorsement for paté, I'm not sure what is. 

Razzia and the Art of Advertising Opens

I figure I'll start this blog by talking about the exhibition we just opened. No, it's not really of 'vintage' posters--unless, of course, you're young enough to think 1984 is already 'vintage'--but, honestly, how often do you stumble across a poster exhibition? So, even though it's not really my era of expertise, here comes my review of the International Poster Center's current show, "Razzia and the Art of Advertising":

First, let me say, I am no Razzia fan--his work, to me, comes across as dated and predictable. In his world, everyone looks like David Bowie during the Ziggy Stardust phase, and all women wear black elbow-length gloves. Therefore, I found it all-too-fitting that the young curator at the IPC decided on French rock of the mid-80s and a homemade cheesecake to set the scene for the opening reception. Cutesy? A bit. But also quite funny--it was like they were saying "we know this stuff is dated, but come on, you love the cheese of the 80s as much as we do." And really, just go into any Urban Outfitters for proof that the 80s are still kickin in the eyes of the hipsters. 

So I made my way through the crowd--which, incidentally, exuded an atmosphere like a cross between the Breakfast Club and a Bret Easton Ellis novel--overhearing artchatter and eating my rather delicious slice of cheesecake, and I realized that, despite my anti-love for Razzia, this is actually a pretty damn good show. Yes, it's steeped in nostalgia (but so's Julie Taymor's 'Across the Universe,' and you won't see me raining on that cinematic parade!); yes, it's cheesy...but it's FANTASTICALLY cheesy! If I had a billiards room or some crazy bar, I'd cover the walls with Razzia's because they pack a hyper-saturated, turquoise and magenta punch. They make me want to rock out to Rick Astley and A-Ha. Simply put, they're a fun time. And for an average price of $500 a pop, you won't find a cheaper authentic throwback that covers that much wall space anywhere else.

So, my friends, grab your aviators and spandex and head on over to the International Poster Center (601 W. 26th St., btwn 11th and 12th aves, 13th floor. NY, NY) while the show's still up. It's due to close Feb. 1, so hurry!