The Duz has made it to the Manse.

Our friend Gordon Beck gave us a lovely vintage-themed Manse-warming gift, and here it is on the harvest-gold dryer in the Manse kitchen: vintage cream-coloured lampshades, and a fresh (from the 1950s, I'm guessing) box of Duz! (You know, the detergent that they used to put towels and glasses in to get people to buy it.) It fits right in, doesn't it?

Our friend Gordon Beck gave us a lovely vintage-themed Manse-warming gift, and here it is on the harvest-gold dryer in the Manse kitchen: some beautiful cream-coloured lampshades, and a fresh (from the 1950s, I’m guessing) box of Duz! (You know, the detergent that they used to put towels and glasses in to get people to buy it.) It fits right in, doesn’t it?

Our friend Gordon’s comment on yesterday’s post, about a 1960s-era telephone table – clearly Gordon felt we had done the right thing in not dignifying its existence by purchasing it – reminded me that I should show you a photo of his recent gift to us, newly installed (as of this past weekend) at the Manse.

Gordon is a brilliant photographer and inveterate collector – notably of books, but also of other interesting stuff. And out of his many cool collected items, he gave us three lovely old lampshades, and an (unused) box of Duz detergent that he’d picked up at an auction in the 1960s. Why Duz? Because I’d written a little paean to the good old days when hand towels and drinking glasses and the like came in boxes of detergent – notably Duz – in an effort to get people to buy it. (Which, by the way, worked brilliantly; everybody had those glasses and towels, and thus was buying and using the detergent too.)

So once again, Gordon, thank you! Your gift is now where it belongs. Speaking of which, I also snapped a photo of the box of Duz on top of the Manse’s washing machine, since that’s the more obvious home for it than the dryer. And any photo of the Manse’s washing machine leads to one key question. Have a look:

The Duz is on the washer, and the washer is in the … kitchen. Why?

The Duz is on the washer, and the washer is in the … pantry. Why?

Why is the washing machine in the pantry? Side-by-side washer and dryer: normal. Side-by-side washer and stove? Odd.

But hey, who are we to complain? It was nice of the Manse’s former owners, the church Manse Committee, to leave the appliances in the house for us. They’re not new, but they seem quite serviceable.

Anyway, if and when I get around to trying out the washer-in-the-pantry (I haven’t yet), you can be sure I won’t be tossing in any Duz. That stuff is a collector’s item! And I’m just tickled that a nice collector turned it over to us.

4 thoughts on “The Duz has made it to the Manse.

      • It’s said that Ethel Merman could hold one note for 16 bars. I think my ears would have been rattling for 16 days afterward.

        That frying pan didn’t look too “icky”, if you ask me. And I guess we’re to believe that she was an expert at washing dishes by hand.

      • I think one of the funniest things about that ad (aside from Ethel’s bellowing and the suspiciously non-grotty frying pan going into the dish suds) is the name of the detergent: Vel! All those funny names the soap/detergent makers came up with for their products back in the day, apparently striving for three letters (Duz, Joy, Vel, etc.) as much as possible. Ethel just sounds so ridiculous proclaiming, in story and song, the merits of a product with such a stupid name!

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