Rugs and Life and Stuff


I spent an inordinate amount of time contemplating rugs this past weekend. Arguing about rugs, looking for inspiration on how to style different rugs, shopping for rugs, vacuuming rugs, straightening rugs, rolling up rugs. The fact that I could spend that much time on rugs tells me that my life must be pretty cushy, overall. But the arguments about rugs are also about other things: money, and how to spend it; aesthetics, and how other people judge you based on your living space; mobility, both in terms of class and in terms of whether we’ll be in this apartment (or this city) 6 months from now. So, this weekend was about rugs, and about all of that other stuff.

I guess maybe it means that we’re growing up, too, and that we’re coming to think of our crappy little apartment as home, which is kind of nice. A couple of years ago, our furniture was all hand-me-downs cobbled together as best we could. Now, we actually invest in pieces to make our home our own.

In the end, most of our work was rearranging, reconfiguring, readjusting, renewing. The apartment feels a little more like us, and we get to show off a bit more of the one nice thing about this apartment: the hardwood. Insert innuendo there.

Sunday Night Connection

Sunday Night Connection

E and I have a burgeoning new ritual of splitting an ice cream sandwich down the middle every so often. It’s usually a nice surprise when either or both of us is feeling stressed out. And come on, a Neapolitan ice cream sandwich is basically edible heaven, am I right?

Tonight, E had to run to the corner store, and he brought home this treat. A few words, a few smiles, a few bites later, and we were absorbed in our individual Sunday night rituals again. After a hectic weekend (and before a long week), it was the perfect mini-break.

Dutch Kills, Long Island City

This weekend, E and I met some friends at what is rapidly becoming one of my favorite bars, Dutch Kills. Located just a ten minute train ride away from home in Long Island City, Queens, Dutch Kills is a bar that is hiding in plain sight. From the street, a  blinking white neon sign reads, simply, “BAR.” The windows are blacked out, and a sign advertising a blue print shop hangs over the storefront. A small hallway leads into a narrow, dimly lit area with high wooden booths, so that it looks like nothing special from the outside. If you venture in further, you’ll see the fully stocked bar (see here, via this post) manned by barkeeps in vests and suspenders.

While not technically a speakeasy, Dutch Kills definitely nods to the Prohibition Era. But the aesthetics of the joint, though nothing to scoff at, are a minor attraction. The real stars of the night are the cocktails. The menu may not seem like much, but the bartenders’ know more than what’s there, anyway. Tell them what you like (or what you don’t) and they’ll whip you up something that’s sure to please. Each drink has the right hand-cut ice to keep it cool — on the rock, served long, or crushed.

Marie Antoinette

I am, generally, more of a beer gal than a cocktail connoisseur, but I have never left Dutch Kills dissatisfied (in fact, I’ve been feeling more inspired to build my bar at home). The beverages are always perfect, the atmosphere is great for a relaxed Friday night, and the service is spot on. At $11 per cocktail, the prices are reasonable, and the bar is close to the N, Q, 7, E, M, R, and G trains, making it a great meeting place for friends from Queens, Manhattan, and Brooklyn. I’m already plotting my next trip back.

Weekend Snaps and Tourist Traps

For the first — and last — weekend in a while, E and I had no real solid plans come quitting time on Friday, so we enjoyed a quiet, unstructured weekend around the apartment and in the city. The weather was delightful, so we got to spend some time outside over a pitcher of beer on Saturday night, and when we got home, the Greeks in our neighborhood were setting off fireworks to mark the start of their Easter Sunday festivities.

Tessie managed to get out (by which I mean we held the door open to see if she would go into the hallway), but she wasn’t sure what to do when she did. Her whole world for the past three years has been our one bedroom apartment, and I don’t know if she thinks the squirrels or other critters who occasionally stop by our fire escape are even real.

Sunday morning we were up and at ’em early to make it to the Dead Sea Scrolls exhibit at the Discovery Times Square exhibit space. Today was the last day of the show, and we bought Groupons to visit ages ago, so we decided to head down. It was neat to see some of the artifacts (and the scroll remnants, of course), but the experience was pretty terrible overall. They herd you through the space in groups, so you end of moving either too fast or too slow and have trouble accessing all the things you want to see. They also have a really strange way of displaying some of the objects. They built long walls with text panels and inset display cases for smaller artifacts, and then placed dioramas with larger artifacts behind the wall and cut long, thin vertical windows into the wall. You can kind of see what I mean in this photo, which shows the vertical cut-outs. The end result was that it was nearly impossible to really see what was in the larger cases, especially if there were other people crowding you.

In any case, if it weren’t for the Groupon, it probably wouldn’t have been worth the astronomical entrance fee (30 dollars per person! For an exhibit that took us only an hour to comb through thoroughly!). I saw Harry Potter: The Exhibition in the same space and was similarly frustrated by the experience, though in that case more because we were pulsed through the hall so quickly we could barely take in all of the costumes and props. I’ll definitely think twice before seeing anything else there.

Because the weather was so beautiful when we got off the train back in Queens, we ended up having brunch in the back garden of one of the neighborhood restaurants after we realized that all the Greek restaurants we’d been talking about visiting for a quick breakfast were closed for Easter. It was a lovely way to spend a few hours with my favorite over-busy law student, but I am still dreaming of a good gyro. I know, my life is hard.

Hop to It!


Getting in under the wire to wish you a Happy Easter/Passover/Spring/renewal/beautiful day! E and I spent the day in the Nutmeg State with family, enjoying the lovely weather and messing with our nieces’ and nephews’ by hiding eggs in really tough places. I got kicked off the egg-hunting squad when I was 18. It seemed like an injustice at the time, but here’s the thing: hiding the eggs is kind of more fun than finding them.

Whatever you do or don’t celebrate, and whichever end of any egg hunts you’re on, I hope your weekend was happy. I’m off to an early bed in hopes that the kid germs I feel abrewing haven’t compromised me for a busy week ahead.

An Evolution of Form: Origins of Disney Theme Parks

Jumping back into the world of my thesis, I wanted to explore some of the sites that eventually inspired elements of Disney theme parks. People have been going to specialized locations to spend their leisure time since the concept of work and leisure time as discrete, specialized things was created. In that regard, visitors to Disney theme parks are participants in a long tradition of having fun in designed space.

Pleasure Gardens

The great gardens designed and built in Europe were attempts to create a specialized recreational space, “a hubristic attempt to build paradise on earth, a Garden of Eden.” Featuring exuberant fountains, perfectly manicured gardens, and landscapes that were torn up and replanted based on trends and whims, the gardens were attempts to demonstrate human control over nature and provide a retreat from both the chaos of city life and the disarray of nature.

Tivoli Gardens, in Copenhagen, was one of the world’s early amusement parks.  While it featured rides and restaurants, the main attraction is the extensive landscaping throughout the park. Disney visited the gardens in 1958, and incorporated some of what he saw there into his future plans for Disneyland.

Carnivals and Boardwalks

A disappointing visit to Coney Island was supposedly one of Walt Disney’s inspirations for his eventual family vacation kingdom.  At the time he visited, likely in the late 1930s or early 1940s, Coney Island was still reeling from the effects of the Great Depression.  Subway expansion in 1920 brought large numbers of people with little spending money to the amusement area, driving prices lower and changing the atmosphere at Coney Island.  Around the turn of the century, developers had supplanted the brothels, saloons, and gambling dens that had been the economic mainstay of the Coney Island area with attractions inspired by the 1893 Columbian Exposition. Luna Park, Dreamland, and Steeplechase were all amusement parks that premiered in this period, and which featured themed villages, grand ballrooms and elaborate architecture in addition to carnival rides. The parks, particularly Luna Park, attempted to maintain a level of decency and decorum within their gates, and Luna Park owner Frederick A. Thompson required that employees be courteous to visitors at all times – a policy Walt Disney would later implement in his own parks. From the area’s revitalization at the end of the nineteenth century, the amusement area appealed to New York’s middle classes as well as its less well-off populations.  By the 1930s and 1940s, though, changed economic conditions, several devastating fires, and changes in public perception and use had brought the return of the brothels, saloons and freak shows that had been held at bay through the first decades of the twentieth century.  Still, the success and format of the parks at Coney Island led to the creation of amusement parks featuring midway attractions – in contrast to the trolley parks and pleasure gardens that had previously been in vogue – across the country.

Living History Museums

The first house museums in the United States were created to preserve the past for the edification of the public, especially those immigrant groups who had yet to be Americanized. In 1926, John D. Rockefeller, Jr., and his partners began buying land and restoring structures in Williamsburg, Virginia, with the intention of preserving the roots of American democracy.  The result, Colonial Williamsburg, is a living history museum that encompasses an entire historic district, features costumed interpreters living life as though it were the late eighteenth century, and interacting with a paying public to this day.  Interestingly, Colonial Williamsburg’s mission is to educate visitors about the creation of the “idea of America,” and not the reality of America.  They traffic in ideology and heritage, rather than historical facts.

Colonial Williamsburg is only one of many living history museums to appear on the scene in the 1900s.  In this period, members of the upper class began to appropriate history and use it in attempts to Americanize new immigrants and others who did not fit their prescribed qualifications.  These early history museums’ other goal was:

… rescuing isolated bits of the old order from the juggernaut of progress.  The museums became preserves where the past, an endangered species, might be kept alive for visitors to see. . . . The museums did nothing to help visitors understand that a critical awareness of history, although not a sufficient guide to effective action in the present, was an indispensable precondition for it, and a potentially powerful tool for liberation” [of the proletariat].

While many history museums today have adopted a more critical stance towards history and historical knowledge production, the museum as an institution has generally maintained its authority over history.  In contrast, however, historical presentations at Disney theme parks do not invite visitors to engage in any critical historical thinking, and they also fail to acknowledge history’s relationship to the present.  The parks present themselves first and foremost as an amusement, and therefore absolve themselves of any responsibility to the professional discipline of history.

World’s Fairs

The International Expositions and World’s Fairs of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries were vehicles for disseminating information, popularizing technological, mechanical, and scientific advancements, and providing entertainment for the throngs of people who visited them. Progress was a major theme of public display throughout the twentieth century. Late nineteenth and early twentieth century World’s Fairs focused on advancements in science and technology and ideas of a tech-centric future, to spur individualism and consumer culture while also supporting nationalist ideals. The International Exposition in 1933-34 in Chicago, for example, marked the city’s centennial, and was known as the Century of Progress Exposition. American fairs also celebrated nationalism, and many celebrated historical landmarks such as the anniversary of Columbus’ landing in North America (Chicago, 1893) or the Louisiana Purchase (St. Louis, 1904).  These ideas are also at work in Disney theme parks.

In addition to their contributions to popular paradigms of the time, the fairs often also featured midway areas with games, amusements, adult entertainment and carnival-style rides. Often staying open until late at night, these entertainment zones were sources for financial gain, but often attracted crime and other unsavory endeavors.  Their popularity, though, ensured their continued use at most fairs throughout the century.  Many of the amusements popularized on the midways of World’s Fairs would eventually be used at permanent parks around the world.

Twentieth century New York World’s Fairs.

Two World’s Fairs, both in New York, were bookends to the opening of Disneyland.

The 1939-40 and 1964-65 fairs heavily featured the concept of progress. The rhetoric of the fairs asserted that, as time passed, humans were developing greater and greater technologies that would continue to simplify life.  Humans would mine resources more effectively,cure diseases, travel with great efficiency, colonize outer space, and understand the world around them intimately.  Futurama, General Motors’ attraction at the 1939-40 World’s Fair, took riders through complex, incredibly detailed models of the future, in which automated highways snaked through rural areas and into carefully planned urban centers.  At a time when most fairgoers did not own cars and had not heard of superhighways, this attraction revolutionized the way people imagined the future.  Many of the predictions made and gadgets demonstrated within Futurama, such as cars controlled by radio signals to keep a proper distance between vehicles, have yet to be realized.  However, at the 1964-65 World’s Fair, General Motors again sponsored a pavilion, and the ride within it was called Futurama II.  It also featured a look ahead, this time to the mid-21st century, and visitors to the Fair again flocked to see it.  People were still consuming optimism for the future.  The 1964-65 World’s Fair also featured several attractions developed by WED Enterprises, now known as Walt Disney Imagineering, Disney’s theme park design firm. The main idea of these and other attractions was, as the theme song for the Disney-developed Carousel of Progress attraction for the General Electric Pavilion at the 64-65 World’s Fair asserted, “there’s a great big beautiful tomorrow shining at the end of every day.” These narratives of progress were also a part of Disney’s attractions in its theme parks.

Disney Parks

Walt Disney’s experiences with his own daughters, his desire to popularize the history he was passionate about and the opportunity he saw to capitalize on the new technology of television to market his characters and films, led to the creation of Disneyland in 1955.  After the success of Disney’s “it’s a small world,” The Magic Skyway, and The Carousel of Progress at the 1964-65 World’s Fair, the company felt confident that East Coast audiences would patronize a Disney theme park in the vicinity.  Locations were scouted in St. Louis, upstate New York, and other areas, but central Florida was ultimately chosen due to its year-round warm climate and the ability to purchase large tracts of undeveloped land.  In total, the Disney Company purchased 27,258 acres of land in secret, at a total cost of just over five million dollars, or about 185 dollars per acre.  The swampland required heavy development in order to be suitable for construction.

Today, the resort consists of four theme parks, two water parks, 23 themed hotels, and one shopping and entertainment complex. Disney-run buses, trams, monorails and boats shuttle guests through the vast network of roads, tracks and waterways that connect sites. In partnership with the Florida government, Disney has also created the Reedy Creek Improvement District, which provides emergency services, water control, public utilities, land use, and building codes, and fulfills other responsibilities for the whole of Disney’s Florida property.

What Disney built in Florida, and previously in California, revolutionized the themed entertainment industry, but it was not without precedent. The sites mentioned here are only a few of the entertainment forms that preceded the Disney theme parks, and the company owes much to them. Disney is not the end-all, be-all of leisure, either. Though it is an entertainment megalith, there are countless other ways for people to spend their vacations. Some of the places mentioned here continue on, too — I had my engagement photos taken at Coney Island last year — in forms that have evolved in differing degrees since their inception.

In 2011, I wrote a masters thesis in museum anthropology on the presentation of history in Disney’s Magic Kingdom-style theme parks around the world, focusing on its Florida incarnation. After a year of my thesis sitting on a shelf gathering dust, I decided to post parts of it here. You can find these posts under the My Thesis category. A list of the resources used to write my thesis can be found on here.