Despite having an uncountable number of consumer goods available at the click of a button at prices our grandparents would have found astonishing, our homes are full of junk that isn’t worth the wholesale cost.
New washing machines last a year or three at best, according to Americans who buy them. Worse, they don’t even wash clothes well, reined in as they are by government diktats about water and power consumption.
I spent $15 for a beautiful, indestructible lifetime blender. Yes, the pitcher is glass.
The same is true of almost every other appliance and machine in the contemporary American home. But it didn’t used to be this way. First, I’m going to tell you a story. Then I’m going to come back to the present and show you how to live like a king or queen on a budget with yesterday’s consumer durables.
Merit-ocracy
My mother was standing over the dishwasher in our kitchen in 1986. It was a model from the 1950s, one of the wheeled, portable ones you brought over and hooked to the sink tap with a hose. The top-loading machine’s lid had what you might call formica “inlay” in 50s colors with random sparkles embedded. It was meant to be used as a countertop so that the bulky machine wasn’t merely a space-taker in a small kitchen.
My mother was holding a broken clock radio. The digital display had “zeroed out,” showing only 00:00 no matter what time it was.
“Damn it,” she said, exhaling from her Merit Ultra Light 100. “I just bought this a few months ago. There was a time when ‘made in America’ meant something. We used to make the best-quality goods in the world. Whatever you bought you could depend on for a long time. What the hell happened?”
The dishwasher’s faithful service proved her point. The “outdated” 1950s dishwasher still cleaned dishes trouble-free. That was probably the first time I contemplated what it meant to call an appliance “outdated.” Within a few years, it was evident that “outdated” only meant “not in colors the people on TV think are modern.”
The new clock radio made in 1986 couldn’t even give us three months’ service before going kaput. But the 1956 wash-o-matic was whirring its way to clean dishes in May 1986 as well as it did for its first owner during the Eisenhower administration.
New phone, why dis?
How many of your devices or appliances offer such simple, consistent performance? Are you satisfied with your new low-water front-loader and its Byzantine maze of touch-screen “options,” none of which are “wash my clothes in 25 minutes”? How about the repair bill for the chipset when the “smart” computer inside it fails, leaving the perfectly good mechanics idle?
Do you like buying a new phone every few years? Think about that. Do you remember getting a “new phone” all the time 30 years ago? The very idea is absurd. Sure, our telephones in those days were simply and only telephones, not dating machines, compasses, and navigation systems. But are we sure that planned obsolescence in our every-device-in-one-wearable-computer is a lifestyle upgrade?
You can get a new microwave, blender, or vacuum cleaner at Walmart for astoundingly low prices adjusted for inflation. In fact, you can get each of these in multiple versions and colors. But what, specifically and actually, are you getting? Cheap plastic that looks good on a display shelf but that scuffs, cracks, and loses tension-holding shape after a few uses.
And do you need a new microwave? A new vacuum? If you said “yes” to that, are you sure? What is it that you “need” from a new appliance that you’re not getting from the old one? Assuming it’s not broken — and a lot of appliance purchases are made simply to “upgrade” — what’s wrong with your old vacuum?
Be honest. You know that you don’t “need” most of these things. You’re buying them because of free-floating anxiety about keeping up with the Joneses. You want a new microwave and a new vacuum and new stainless-steel-fronted appliances because everyone else’s kitchen looks like this. Despite their inflated claims, the “updated” versions of almost all of these simple mechanicals do nothing different than their ancestors from 50 years ago.
But now they’re ugly and short-lived.
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Matt Himes
Sucks to be new
You don’t have to do any of this. In fact, you can live like royalty for almost no money, with all your mechanical and appliance needs met at the contemporary level of convenience and comfort you want.
You can have yesterday’s quality today by buying old, solidly built appliances for a fraction of their price when new. This is how I live. For at least two decades, the only brand-new things that have come into my home are computers and consumables. My furniture, my lighting, my appliances — all of it came from secondhand stores or online auctions.
I made a mistake recently in deviating from that path. When I sold my first house two years ago, I left my late 1970s all-mechanical-dial Kenmore washer and dryer behind. More fool me; as soon as I can use this brand-new modern junk-box General Electric calls a washing machine for shotgun target practice, the better.
Observe. This was my mother’s Electrolux vacuum from the early 1980s:
Josh Slocum
Power everything. Has never broken. If it does, a repair shop makes quick, cheap work of any repair I can’t do. Yes, parts and bags are still made. This machine cost the equivalent of $600 to $1,000 in today’s money when it was new.
This is my working blender. It’s a 1961 Waring “Blendor,” one of the most durable ever made:
Josh Slocum/smartstock/Getty Images
And do admit, it’s got art deco beauty even though it bears the scuff marks of age. Yes, it’s as solid and heavy as it looks. It has all it needs: two speeds and off. The colorful fabric cord is a replacement I put on, as the old one was frayed; all that took was a $5 cord and a Phillips-head screwdriver. $10 at the flea market, $5 for a cord. I spent $15 for a beautiful, indestructible lifetime blender. Yes, the pitcher is glass.
If you’re willing to expand your thinking and put away silly modern fears, you can also have beautiful, practical lighting that gives your home real warmth.
Josh Slocum/elleran/Getty Images
This kerosene lamp would have been found in your home in the late 1880s. It was as common as any electric gooseneck from Ikea today. This model, the New Juno, is now 140 years old and it works as well as the day it left the factory. I paid about $95 for it.
Antique kerosene lighting is my hobby, and I light and heat my home with three to five out of my collection of several dozen throughout the winter. This lamp alone is enough to heat my medium-size living room during a Vermont winter. It’s bright enough to read and work by, and in a pinch, you can cook over it during a power outage if you rig up a trivet. There are no solar panels or cussed digital panels to go wrong. Yes, replacement parts like glass chimneys and wicks are still made.
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Mladen Antonov/Getty Images
Seek the antique
My guess is that readers find this pretty appealing even if it’s the first time they’ve considered stocking their homes this way. Once you get over the marketing-inculcated idea that you’re weird or missing out by not having the latest model of this or that, you realize that you can live like a king or queen for almost no money. You can have the same work-saving devices you’re used to. But these will work better for longer.
Aren’t they more charming to look at? When I share pictures of my working home goods on social media, people seem to love it. A common response: “Your house looks like my great-grandma’s!” They mean it as a compliment, and I mean my house to look and feel that way. I think we’re all getting tired of waking up to “updated” homes in Millennial Mortuary Gray and Bare Bones Joanna Gaines Shiplap bulls**t. The sterile field look wears better at the dentist’s office than it does in the den.
I haven’t given anything up. I have all the mod cons that do the same work as any new equipment, but I got them cheaper, they will last longer, and they please the eye. Try it — you may fall in love.
Appliances, Lifestyle, Planned obsolescence, Smartphones, Electrolux, Home goods, Intervention