Classic kitchen gadgets can hold sentimental, and aesthetic appeal. Picture / Babiche Martens.
I should never have opened the brochure, let alone paid a visit to the showroom.
But the invite looked so, well, inviting, that I kidded myself I couldn't resist. Words such as "kid" and "lolly shop" sprang to mind.
But it was me, a grown-up, drooling over a rainbow of
colourful merchandise and wanting, wanting, wanting. If my mother had been with me, I may have tugged at her sleeve and whined "I want one, why can't I have one?"
It was the grand opening of a swanky, new showroom for kitchen appliances. Shelves littered with beautiful, matching gadgets. Espresso machines, toasters, blenders, juicers . . . curvaceous and appealing, their pearly powder-coated skins glowing invitingly in the uplights. Design and "face appeal" overrode any thoughts of function or value for money . . . almost.
Just in time I cast my mind back to the cluttered cupboard, bottom left, under the sink. There lay my trusty food processor, her lines all angular, the clear, purple-tinged plastic foggy and chipped, the menu of functions scratched off and patchy.
