Flamingos, Pink naturally

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
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So just how many pink flamingos can one display to capture that oh-so-retro chic without wandering into ever-so-tacky kitsch? I’m talking top of the line flamingo–not the cheap plastic ones. Perhaps a blow-up bird, but never plastic.

It may be germane to note that I have recently seen at least two versions of a glass pink flamingo offered as a collector’s item–with no evidence that the product was being put forward in all seriousness. Maybe not as serious as Elvis plates, but surely equal to Precious Moments.

My taste tend towards the more tongue-in-cheek design when it comes to flamingos. Or Tiki Gods, for that matter, although I am not particularly moved by Tiki Gods or palm trees. The odd garden gnome has an appeal similar to the pink flamingo, but gnomes are not quite as endearing. Of course, it is much harder to stay retro-cool with garden gnomes; personally I’d never try for more than one, and then only if I could find just the right place for him. In the middle of a patch of saw-grass, perhaps, or perched on the peak of the porch–if I could get him to lean somewhat insolently against the house, it would be perfect.

But, back to the flamingos. Ideally I’d have two in the yard, completely disinterested in each other, of course. And then, somewhere in the house, one perfect specimen. The PINK FLAMINGO of pink flamingos, if you would. Other items could hint at flamingo-- just a head and neck, or an outline, a very small flamingo on the corner of the pillow, or just something that you would expect to have a flamingo on it, even though there isn’t one. Except I worry that this would fail to convey that particular I don’t know what attitude. The total effect of the flamingos needs to be thematic without being a theme itself.

And then there’s the whole question of seasonal decorations. A Midwinter’s pink flamingo with a Santa hat is a given, but can flamingo lights be added without compromising the atmosphere? Thanksgiving is just too obvious and would need to be skipped entirely, and Easter has Peeps so flamingos would be redundant, but what about the Fourth of July–can a pink flamingo carry a flag, or should I just stick with the Uncle Sam hat?

I wish I knew Amy Sedaris, I bet she would know.

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I have a pink flamingo tattooed on my right ankle. My last Jeep Wrangler (::sniff - I miss her::slight_smile: had a pink flamingo on each panel in front of the doors.

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I’ve made stained glass pink flamingos. I have pictures, but alas, they are trapped in an old computer with no easy way out.

For several years we had four in the yard, that were dressed seasonally. They graduated to theatrical tableaus. Since many of the people I worked with drove by my house to get to work, I wrote newsletters detailing their lives and private activities. This, because whenever I took them in for re-dressing, several people would ask if they’d been stolen. They did The Wizard of Oz, Death of a Salesman and National Lampoon’s Vacation as well as Christmas, New Years, July Fourth, and Seafair.

I doubt this helps your design plan. My only real advice is to avoid the flaming shower curtain, since it was featured in the Roseanne bathroom for so many years.

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This thread might interest you
Lament the end of the lawn flamingo

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picunurse, it’s possible that we were separated at birth. Seasonal dressing is a normal enough idea (well, normal for those of us that “get” flamingos, anyway), but the tableaus are are the work of a genius. I’ve had similar ideas although I never thought about specific plays or movies. My dream was to put the flamingos in some everyday activities like a BBQ, pool party, gardening, the scene of a hideous accident and the subsequent funeral.

My new difficulty stems from a catalogue I received yesterday. It has gargoyles. Reasonably priced gargoyles. I’m just not sure that pink flamingos and gargoyles are aesthetically compatible. Incongruent, or just chaotic? Is there a point of commonality between them, unorthdoxed yet still mutually relevant? Oh, why is my life so complicated? What to do, what to do . . . .