Kitsch Bonanza: Expert takes on gift shop during treasure hunt

Kirk Baird

Monday, Nov. 10, 2003 | 8:27 a.m.

Browsing through Bonanza Gifts Shop, Lesley Gillilan was clearly in her element. And that's not a knock on her taste.

The "World's Largest Gift Shop," 2460 Las Vegas Blvd. South, might be considered a junk shop to some, but to the author of the just-released "Kitsch Deluxe" ($29.95, Mitchell Beazley), there's a surprise lurking around every corner:

But even a kitsch expert has to draw the line somewhere.

"This is just plain tacky," Gillilan said, pointing to a miniature skeleton figurine dressed in a suit.

It's difficult to disagree with her assessment. The porcelain specter as a banker is difficult to latch onto.

But why is that not kitsch compared to a handbag with a faux leopard trim that features a pink poodle and a bulldog on the front?

Gillilan chalks it up to a difference in kitsch taste.

And what, exactly, is kitsch?

"Something mass-produced, popular and cheap makes them kitsch," she said.

Which is why almost anything Tiki related, for example, is considered kitsch -- especially if it's originally from the Tiki craze of the 1950s and early '60s.

Or, for that matter, almost anything depicting Elvis, such as the Elvis swiveling hips clocks or velvet Elvis paintings in the store.

"Some people think he's the king and do not like the idea of him being kitsch," Gillilan explained. "But he is. There's so much memorabilia dedicated to him."

It's much the same story for Marilyn Monroe, Liberace and Jayne Mansfield. The trio, who Gillilan lists as kitsch icons in her book, are products -- some might argue victims -- of a populist fixation with merchandise dedicated to their legacies.

Whether this fixation is healthy doesn't matter, Gillilan contends. Nor does the question of taste.

"People get caught up in, are they doing the right thing as far as taste is concerned and keeping up with fashion?" Gillilan said. "I think people want to be liberated from that and have a bit of fun."

The 49-year-old author herself is a lifelong fan of kitsch. The daughter of two antique dealers, Gillilan grew up in a Bohemian house and developed a fondness for American pop culture, from fancy cars to Barbie dolls.

Today she writes a column, Urban Archaeologist, devoted to 20th century popular collectibles for The Financial Times in London.

"Grown-ups like kitsch," she said. "It's toys for adults. It's things you remember as a child, things that make you smile."

Gillilan cannot help but smile at a pink poodle purse or a Jesus beaded curtain hanging up in the corner of the gift shop.

Or grin when she sees a nodding poodle doll.

"These were big things in the '50s," she said. "People would have them in the back of their car. It was considered to be the ultimate in bad taste. My parents thought so anyway."

Still, she frowns when she comes to that '70s relic, the troll doll.

"I don't like them really," Gillilan said as she dismissed several shelves full of the plastic figurines with purple and pink Don King hair. "I left them out of the book."

In the end Gillilan said Bonanza Gift Shop offered "more junk than kitsch."

Still, she acknowledged she was impressed with the so-bad-it's-good tackiness of Las Vegas, which she termed the Kitsch Capitol of the World.

"I didn't come here to gamble," she said. "I came here to see the lights, the fake Venice shopping center and a bit of Paris and a bit of New York."

Near the end of her three-day trip, Gillilan was impressed with the Peppermill Inn Restaurant -- "classic '70s lounge bar" -- and the erupting volcano at The Mirage, "where well-dressed intelligent adults stand around waiting for it to happen."

"Kitsch is a retreat into fantasy (and) Las Vegas offers retreats into all these fantasies," she said. "It's a playground for grown-ups."

Grown-ups with very, very good taste."