The Glamorous World of Refrigerator Emblems

I am a refrigerator philistine.

I have been at the Erie Art Museum for two weeks now. Finally, after brutal Art Brut tours with morose seventeen-year-old boys and a fingerpainting showdown with a five-year-old (I won), it seemed I had proved my worth. My boss gave me my first field assignment: Mark, the Refrigerator Emblem Collector.

I held the interview in the basement breakroom of the museum. Mark was personable, eloquent, and very serious about refrigerators. He had been prying the brand-name emblems off of discarded refrigerators since the 1980's, and had acquired a connoisseur's eye for American household appliances. It was 1945-1970 when the good stuff was being made, he explained. This was the heyday, the "Golden Age," as he put it, before cheap plastic alternatives took the luster out of America's kitchens. "Call me an emblem elitist, an emblem snob...but if I came across a later refrigerator, I wouldn't bother stopping, wouldn't bother taking the emblem out. Certainly, I had my standards." Rarity, too, could lend value to an otherwise unassuming refrigerator: Norges had more charm than Kelvinators, which beat out Frigidaires and General Electrics. The Holy Grail (which he still hasn't found) is the Servel, which ran on propane instead of electricity and isn't made anymore. His voice became hushed and thoughtful: "I've really given all that up now...but if I ever found a Servel..." There was a moment of silence in reverence for the elusive icebox. And then. He noticed the machine in the corner.

Now I am obliged to confess that I have eaten countless lunches in that breakroom and never once have I glanced over to our 1960's Frigidaire and been struck dumb, or even casually dazzled, by its commanding presence and sleek, efficient contours. I probably would have remained in that barbaric state forever, if Mark had not set me straight. The hinges alone are cause for celebration: "I mean...look at them! They're fluted...chrome...you have to admire a beefy hinge like that. The ones on the new makes aren't nearly so...robust..." I have never heard a refrigerator being referred to as "robust"--let alone a refrigerator hinge--but I had to agree. Those were some fine-looking refrigerator hinges, and it was about time somebody gave this monument of utility, aesthetics, and thermal insulation a Latin-based adjective worthy of it. Amen, Mark.

I think it's refreshing to meet people who are enchanted by oft-unappreciated or overlooked things. Alicia likes people who dress up as food. My mom likes cicadas so much she tried to kidnap some from the forest preserve, so our backyard could be properly plagued by them in 17 years. My boss loves this database of over 10,000 banana stickers: http://www.beckymartz.com//newlabels.htm. And my friend Ella told me yesterday that Edward Gorey had a room in his house dedicated to rocks that looked like frogs in a certain light. The world is good, people. It has potato chips shaped like Mary and St.Francis. There could be a felt hotdog dancing on the side of the road. You could be harboring a glamorously-hinged refrigerator and not even know it.