Irresistable Objects...

... so tiny and impractical, yet so cute—

Japanese stationery store item, mid-1980s: Puchikko kurippu.

The second word, kurippu (クリップ), is simply Japanese pronunciation and written rendering of "clip."

Puchikko (ぷちっ子) isn't as easy. The basic meaning of 子 (ko) is "child," but it's also the most common ending of feminine names. (Here, the っ that comes before it doubles the "k" sound).

My dictionary shows puchi (プチ) as a Japanese version of the French word petit; used as in, puchi furo (petit fours), and, puchi buro (petit burgeois).

Despite the difference in writing puchi as プチ in katakana, normally used for words derived from other languages, vs. ぷち in hiragana, which usually renders syllables of Japanese meaning origin, it sure seems "puchi" should mean, "awfully small." In that case, puchikko kurippu might suggest something like, "junior peewee clip."

Though it also could be a proper name for the rabbit character, whose ears are adorably configured to echo the clip prongs.

As pervasive as miniaturization (and cuteness) are in Japan, this product may have been inspired by a particular one that was a big deal around the same time. Too bad I can't remember the name, but it was a miniaturized desk accessory set: a bento-inspired plastic box containing a stapler, scissors, plus a couple of other items, made in interlocking shapes to all fit inside. As I remember, it was designed by women office workers, which contributed to the novelty and amount of publicity.

That product was useable, as well as decorative, but these clips are not so practical: really too tiny to hold much of anything together.

Now, these are effective clips—

Even if "F. Cats" fit best on the surface space, it's mere shorthand for the true identity of these characters.

They are: Flying Cats, who had many amusing adventures on a mid-80s line of school supplies.

Souvenir

USSR "Beriozka Souvenirs"
— wrapping paper, early 1980s

Actually, the gift (and paper) were brought back from one of the satellites by a friend.

The cheap and tissue-y paper is crumpled, and barely legible in a scan, yet I've always liked the color—and inadvertent meaning.

Even if, for some reason, the initials remind me of going back to the office tomorrow...

Little Helper

That's an enlarged view; back of this—

A box of larger (4 and 5/8 by 2 inch) labels had room enough to include a zip, which suggests the product is from the early '60s.

Some detail, from the larger box—

The "Label House full of ideas"—

These were found recently, when cleaning a place full of... well, all kinds of stuff—after my father's death. These labels were never used, yet they were kept, like so many other things.

The company that made these must be long gone. There's no related business listing for Cheltenham, PA., and one always has to assume the company disappeared through some combination of product obsolescence and de-industrialization of Small Town, USA.

Whatever happened, I wouldn't blame this; business success has never been all that sensative to English skill...

Government Work

Here we are: on the eve of an election that follows over thirty years and and unknown millions invested in turning anti-government propaganda into mainstream narrative.

November 6 is mere days after a disaster that kind of illustrates the need for effective government.

As it happens, Sister J, the brother-in-law, and I drove west from the East Coast in time to beat the storm, just two days after the funeral of our 93-year old father. We were lucky to have plenty of warning, through FEMA alerts and local governors' advance state of emergency declarations.

We brought back family photos and whatever priority items we could get in the short time available. J is now the keeper of a World War II veteran's army memorabilia, mostly printed. There's a lot that needs to be scanned at some future time; it's fascinating material, and a reminder of how valued "government work" once was.

For now, here are a couple of items.

The letterhead is from a WWII posting for ordinance training; graphic detail is in the style of an engraving—

These are from a couple of decades later [enlarged from a 2 x 5" ticket folder]—

Oh, là là!

From the library's free cart of sale leftovers: a 1948 paperback—

Written in 1928 and first published in the U.S. nine years later, this is a comedy of life in an imaginary small town of the Beaujolais region. The plot summary—

A story marketed to "the male palate"—

The author opens with a page-long guide to the characters. The "Masterpiece of Nature" who drives the local men to desperation, and her opposite, the spiteful old maid, are among the large cast of local lovelies, merchants, functionaries, and notables. Some others are "THE CURÉ PONOSSE: A gentle priest who was filled with embarrassment by the confessions of the women of Clochemerle, a town in which the men were not inactive"; a pair of "eloquent" town gossips; "THE GIORDOT FAMILY: Of whom the less said, the better"; and so on (and on)...

Following this long (and rather tiring) list, the author adds that the action is joined by "a great assortment of excited artisans, tradesmen, winegrowers, soldiers, and politicians."

Dated as it may be, I would give this a try, if it weren't for the loose pages. ... Well, that and the moldy smell; nice art, but this is ready for re-tossing into a free pile.

The 1948 French movie version might be fun, at least as a period flick.

A fond tale about the amusing follies of the provincial cousins could have been a good source of post-war cheeriness.

Possibly cheering to the French, that is; the New York Times was offended by the movie's "feeble attempt to be witty at the cost of considerable bad taste." Said even as Bosley Crowther observed that "the picture is so extensively cut, for good and respectable reasons, that all you will now see on the screen is some rather crude French clowning in a virtually meaningless farce."

From presumably the same time is this Czech poster, with literal "bell-blackbird" rendering of the town's name.

Steamy!

Did this subject once inspire a whole genre of post cards?

I haven't been able to find "naughty laundress" as a period subject, but it would have been a natural. After all: working-class women, stripped to their underwear... Even if this well-groomed model is posed (and wearing rather fancy lingerie, at that), "doing the wash" was an excellent excuse for the pose.

Don't know the card's date, but those nice undies include a slip with decorative border somewhere between art nouveau and deco.

I especially like the retouching to denote water drops.

The card was widely marketed:

And this really jumped out at J:

Haven't managed finding more about that besides another card, with this description:

Hand-tinted card, posted in 1912, of a lovely young woman with an Art Nouveau style. This card was printed on paper soaked in radium bromide; after the discovery of radiation by the Curies in 1898, uranium and its salts took on magical properties in the minds of the people and were used for "health"and decoration (it glows!), in food, clothing, toys, and yes...postcards! No promises that this card glows, as we haven't yet had the chance to place it under a blacklight.

There's no visible effect on the laundress card either. It actually looks like photo paper that this was printed on, as there's silver residue (which doesn't show on the scan).

I also saw references to radium brom in homeopathy; well, another good reason to give that theory a miss.

So: did this represent la petite blanchisseuse, or der kleine Wäscherin?

The card probably is German.

As were many good old-fashioned questionable radium products.

Going Like Hottokēki

Gather round the takoyaki grill... J's find at the annual rummage sale held by a Japanese ex-pats' club.

This says takoyaki, followed by small print: hottokēki (hot cake), then Chinese characters I read as "maker." Characters should be grill + both (or, together) + use. So, a takoyaki maker for "dual use"? For either grilling or baking? Or to make some alternative octopus-shaped dumplings?

In any case, here's the business end, for pouring in batter.

Other side...

"APOLLO"

Just to be sure there's no mistaking the product, the head of the family kicks things off. Watch the expert, as he digs happily into a steaming batch of grilled octopus dumplings!