Behind a towering behemoth Cornflakes box, the bargain size, almost awesome, buttressed by large plastic gallons of milk, I bowed over a bowl, proverbial prostration, then another, usually another, eating vigorously and ceremoniously. Each movement, from the pouring of those golden flakes of corn and the flow of sweet cold milk into the bowl, to the lifting of my spoon, bowl to lips, was devout, performed with the utmost respect and admiration to, in my dogma, one of the greater of the breakfast deities. Growing up, nearly everyday my parents laughed and teased me about my cereal box fort. The temple, or cathedral, trope was conceived later, as I wrote my college admissions essay. The breakfast-as-ritual extended metaphor was successful with the committee, further solidifying my love for the quintessential food. As I centered my exercise on the practices of consumption, the issue of packaging and branded was ignored, aside from the always remarkable sheer size of the family-size cereal boxes. Generally intrigued by anything retro, particularly design and aesthetics, lately I have noticed and adored the throw-back release packaging from various cereal brands, featuring the original iterations of some of American children's favorite breakfast idols.
Flipping through the July issue of Harper's Bazaar in the doctor's waiting room this morning, I idly stumbled on the incredible fall-winter handbag line from designer Anya Hindmarch, elegantly illuminating those very beloved retro cereal characters. Sophisticated and kitschy, this is honestly a perfect match. Unfortunately, I do not have the excessive disposable income to make owning a novelty luxury handbag, even one as fabulous and well-tailored to my childhood as this one. Still, delighted to see this whimsical exuberance in some high-end design.
(image taken from Anya Hindmarch)