Growing up, my mother was MOST untacky. She exercised quite a bit of minimalism, taste and she relished a lack of clutter. She also was quick to point the finger at things that were tacky, which I believe was meant to train my sister and I to have the refinement of 2 tiny Jackie Os.
In fact, sometimes after a nice dinner out, she would reward us by taking us past the “tacky house”. We knew of the woman that lived in the tacky house. She would BOAST that “every time I’m good my husband buys me a yard ornament”.
Even at the tender age of 11, the phrase “when I’m good” coming from a grown woman made my eyes roll into the back of my head.
Her house was a small white box in a crowded subdivision, on a corner lot. The picket fence restrained scores of gnomes and other painted concrete lawn ornaments as well as hoards of reflective garden orbs.
My sister and I delighted in each pass by it, knowing fully that it was the forbidden fruit.
When I first struck out on my own, I wasn’t very tacky. But now, I sincerely am.
And every time I’m good- my husband buys me a gnome.
For truly tacky and tasteless garden photos, check out the Kiss My Aster Facebook page.
You can’t say you weren’t warned….
Scores of gnomes- some with deadly weapons, Bedazzled flamingos, zombie Barbies and metal unicorns DELIGHT me in the garden. I