99 Red Macramé Lampshades
I Found a German Macramé Guide From the 1970s and You’re Gonna Hear All About It
Wayne Newton wouldn’t be saying Danke Schoen for any of these puppies
As with all electrifying, destined-for-virality stories, this one begins with knitting.
I happen to have A Knitting Friend who lives in another province. (That’s right, we’re Canadian — whatcha gonna do about it??) She immediately came to mind when the guide I’d eventually dissect first made itself known to me. This fateful finding occurred during a regular visit to a book exchange box in my neighbourhood.
Ooh, she’d like this!! I feverishly thought. I’m always feverish at a book exchange box. Who isn’t? The possibility of chancing upon a novel I’ve wanted for a while or discovering one I will ultimately love is too exciting. I’ve had such experiences before, and I remain ready; I grab anything remotely interesting, in case it isn’t there the next time I come to check. The fact I can take whatever is there for free also really activates the more wolverine-like aspects of my personality.
Usually, after my high has worn off, I consider what I grabbed more judiciously and determine it to be mostly crap. I return the bulk to the box, knowing the cycle will soon repeat. Sometimes, I’ll do this impulsive grabbing thing on behalf of my boyfriend or a friend. The majority of these grabs also end up right back where they started.
I admit to taking the German 70s Macramé book home without a close look. It seemed knitting-adjacent and kitschy, which was enough to convince me. I was confident about the few parts I did register to not require a full inspection prior to making a decision.
A little later on, I offered to mail the book to Friend. Look what I found!! I told her, with the enthusiasm level of a boy who’s found a frog in the backyard. I got it for you! Macramé is basically knitting, right? I added, with the knitting-knowledge level of a boy who’s found a frog in the backyard.
Friend graciously declined the offer but did agree to have pictures from the book sent to her electronically. I’d sold her on the wackiness to some extent, at least. I’d take this victory and run with it.
The following is every picture Knitting Friend would go on to receive, along with my accompanying commentary (which I’ve mostly kept verbatim).
So, I initially failed to recognize this book was German AND French!
As we go along, we shall see the superiority of the German language over the French one. (Take that, L’Office québécois de la langue française!)
A big question is: who staged all this? Who was responsible for devising the set pieces that showed off these macramé marvels?
Why this bowl brimming with walnuts?
Would you like a beautiful belt? And by beautiful I do mean hideous.
Gorgeous! These curtains, which are the colour of pee from a person who needs to drink more water, really needed weird tassels!
Don’t forget your Hund!
For when you’re feeling especially modeschmuck-y!
It’s called fashion, sweetie. Look it up.
This next example truly demonstrates how much more fun and attractive German is to French.
Kindergartentaschen >>> Petit sac pour école
Also, could they not have taken a second picture of this kid? Her facial expression makes it seem like she’s locking the front door to the house after she lit a fire inside while her family slept.
“Tee-hee! I made sure to not murder my family until after Mutter completed her work on my beautiful red kindergartentaschen!”
HORSEHAIR BUNDLES AND BELLS! (Sounds like something that would get nominated for Album of the Year at the CMA Awards, no?)
C’mon, express a little national pride!
Mmmm, delicious mid-70s aesthetic. Being born in the wrong generation sucks!
Bitch, am I in the Château de Fontainebleau??! What else could explain such LUXURY, CLASS, ELEGANCE?
This thing:
P O C K E T S !!
Sure, ok:
Last pic. Compelled to ask again — w h o signed off on this set design? I suppose they wanted to communicate these handbags were for when you went on a tropical vacation, to carry your little things to the beach.
But it looks like fallen Autumn leaves on the rocks, and I’m genuinely befuddled by those spiky shells. A tropical fruit?? I’m not very exploratory with food, can you tell me what those are??
Did they run out of walnuts?
I think the spiky “nuts” are rambutans, said Knitting Friend.
Identifying the mystery nuts as such, however, didn’t help lessen my confusion regarding the set design choices. Each time whoever was in charge had the option of making an uncomplicated, crowd-pleasing image, they seemed to go the opposite direction. 70% of the photos in this book are 5% off in some small, specific way.
It could just be that I’m a dumbass [Editor Kelly: Probably], but were rambutans not an obscure thing in 1970s Europe? Would the average German or French-speaking person in 1974, one who picked up this guide to learn how to macramé cushion covers before their daughter locked them inside their burning Haus/maison, be able to recognize a rambutan?
All I know is showing a slice of watermelon would’ve gotten the job done without stirring up so many questions.
All I know is a drink with ice cubes, a wedge of lemon, and a tiny, bright umbrella says vacation better than anything else.
All I know is Molly Ringwald had to teach Americans what sushi was in the 1980s and that has got to be relevant somehow.
Das Ende/Fin
