Belongs in a landfill? Take that back!

45 Items That Belong to the Landfill and Not in Your Apartment

The article by Amanda Stokes was clickbait. So naturally I clicked on the bait. 

As I expected from the title, it was a snarky list of out-of-favor - dated, old school - items that, because they are so unforgivably out-of-favor (dated, old school), you should immediately pluck out of your home.

The list itself was a mish-mosh of things of which the writer says "it's best to dispose of them in the landfill rather than keep them."

Some of the items are not anything that anyone in the 21st century has ever had in their homes. Certainly not anyone who's clicking on this snarky article.

Seriously, "synthetic fruit?" My grandmother - who died in 1979 at the age of 97 - had a bowl of waxed fruit on her dining room table, and you don't get much more synthetic than wax. But does anyone still display "synthetic fruit?"

The table cloth on that dining room tale was lacey, so naturally I associate this design with Nanny, who probably first put a lacey table cloth on her dining room table when my grandparents bought their house on Winchester Avenue in 1912. (A version of lace-curtain Irish, I guess). But somehow, the writer associates lacey table cloths - "the highest form of outdated design in this modern era" - with the 1990's. Am I missing something here? I don't recall that these were on trend in the 1990's. More likely the 1890's.  

I'm with the writer on doilies, but when was the last time anyone saw a doily? For me, it was probably at Nanny's in 1974, which was the year she moved in with my Aunt Margaret. (Reaching further back, there were plenty of doilies in my house when I was little, but my mother eventually retired them.)

Stokes also despises  damask wallpaper. Now, I'm not big on damask wallpaper, but if someone has, say, an old Victorian home, and wants to keep things authentic, what's wrong with damask wallpaper? (And while we're at it, why not let the Victorian homeowner deploy a lacey tablecloth?)

But my favorite items that I suspect no longer exists in nature are fuzzy toilet covers and rugs. Yes, these items are ultra-gross - especially when the cover is covering the actual toilet seat and not just the lid. Foul and fetid! If these are still being used anywhere, I'm guessing it's in the home of someone both ancient and without Internet access. So no one who needs the advice to jettison these grossities is going to see that advice.

What else does Stokes want you to relegate to landfill?

Mason jars. Thomas Edison lightbulbs. Tiffany bed lamps. Glass blocks. 

What's it to you, sister? 

I'm with Stokes on popcorn ceilings (ugh) and mirrored-anything (ceilings, light fixtures, furniture). But she also has it in for mirrors with gold frames. I guess like the one in my living room that I got when Nanny moved out of her house. 

And for some reason, Stokes doesn't want folks to use strainers or mats in their kitchen sinks. Huh?

And she sets up things that aren't even things. As in don't use a plastic bucket for your kitchen wastebasket. Get an actual plastic wastebasket. Frankly, this sounds like something the writer saw in the apartment of a bad boyfriend. Or maybe of the guy she ended up marrying. 

Whether he's the bad boyfriend or the hubby, woe betide the hapless schnook who gifts Amanda Stokes flowers that have long stalks. Or - worse - a fern!

Interesting, given that the article's title refers to "your apartment," Stokes includes a lot of structural no-nos that, if you're renting, you're stuck with. Tile kitchen counters. Wood paneling. (Honey, I have gorgeous 100+ year old paneling in my living room and it's beyond.) Conversation pits. Built in "soft furniture" in a kitchen eating nook. Artificial fireplaces. 

She's also anti- plenty of things that aren't structural that you can get-rid-of-yourself: Landlines. Alarm clocks. Stereo systems.

While I never use it, I still have a landline, which I keep because it's bundled with cable, and nearly free. Plus it's useful to put it on forms when I make donations, so that any follow up calls just float into the answering machine I never look at.

I like having my alarm clock so that, when I wake up and want to know what time it is, I just need to look at my alarm clock. And while I don't have a stereo system, isn't vinyl making a comeback? Lucky ducks who hung onto their old Bose.

Tuscan kitchens. Window valances. Ikea furniture. Leather seats. Computer chairs. 

Platform beds. (I used to have one, and I liked having the drawers underneath it. Excellent storage.)

I replaced that platform bed with another style of bed that Amanda Stokes has fatwa'd: the sleigh bed. Admittedly, the sleigh bed depicted in her article was pretty ugly, while mine is quite nice. It's gorgeous cherry wood and came from Crate & Barrel, by way of my sister Trish who got it by way of my sister Kath. Okay, so Trish and Kath, for their own reasons, didn't want a sleigh bed. I think Kath upped to a king, while Trish decided she wanted something more modern. Anyway, why hate on sleigh beds?

The worst aspect of the article is the repeated suggestion - picked up from the catchy click-baitish title - that anything you don't like should be sent to landfill. 

What. A. Terrible. Suggestion.

Anything cloth - like those ghastly fluffy toilet covers, those lacey tablecloths, those poor window valances - can be dropped off at a cloth recycle spot, where anything not usable is recycled for rags.

Those Mason jars and plastic fruit? That alarm clock. That synthetic fruit. There may be a buyer at Goodwill!

There are plenty of people in desperate need of furniture - think of those transitioning from homelessness - who would be delighted to have that sleigh bed or Tiffany bedlamp. 

Sheesh. Why would anyone ever suggest that perfectly good items get dumped at the dump and make their way into landfill.

Belongs in a landfill? Take that back!

Sheesh.