There is something about being near water that throws caution to all manner of sensible design and style. Enter the world of Kitsch. Whether it's the rolling waves of surf or the quiet lapping in a tree-covered cove, give me a waterfront no-frills cabin or surf shack filled with knick knacks and bric-a-brack any day of the week. The more thrift sale junk, the better.
In my dreams, I may be in a Nancy Meyer's fabulous film set and any of them will do, like Diane Keaton's gorgeous Hampton's beach house from "Something's Gotta Give", which sold for - GASP! - $41M! with the fabulous art by Kenton Nelson. However, I would be hovering over my kids with their crumb-covered orange Cheetos fingers every step of the way. And that isn't really the point of getting away from it all.
When I think of Kitsch, I think of my grandmother's house. Salt and pepper shakers. Anything ceramic or made from a needlepoint kit. Who gives two f---s if it goes together or how much it costs as long as it can be glued on something or nailed to a wall. In the words of the famous Iris Apfel, "More is more. Less is a bore."
Maybe it's the wonderfully tacky and pieced together-ness in my memories of lakeside/beachside stays that brings a satisfied grin to my face. To snuggle into an environment where the mounting evidence of years of thrift sales, garage sales, estate sales, curbside pickups, giveaways and other roadside findings gives me the warm fuzzies. Nothing is perfect and it shouldn't be. The mismatched plates and cups, the wicker in various states of wear and tear, the patterned and embroidered cotton fabrics, seashells of all shapes collected in vases and stuck to mirrors. It's good to be kitsch.