Art in the Everyday: Tupperware — An American Design Classic

March 29, 2013

Art in the Everyday: Tupperware — An American Design Classic

On a chilly autumn day in October 2010, I found myself at a Tupperware party in Farmingdale, Long Island. Sitting in the living room of Anthony Portelli, a well-coiffed 40-something Italian man, I’m surrounded by a crowd of mostly middle-aged women, some teenage girls and a few grandmothers. All of them, dressed in varying shades of beige and powder blue, look quite at place in the suburban, tastefully lit interior. Also not quite out of place is the collection of various plastic containers spread out across a fold-out table at the head of the room or the cold, metal chairs that are lined up in front of it.

There are a few people at this small gathering, however, who do not look like your typical Tupperware party-goers. One of them is a 49-year-old woman sitting in the back of the room in a large, cushy armchair. Observing the group of suburban housewives with her heavily mascaraed eyes, she wears a leopard-print jersey t-shirt, a short denim skirt and a pair of sassy black leather boots. This is Wendy Spadaro, the executive director at Shoreline Enterprises, a Tupperware franchise based in Redondo Beach, California. She has been involved in selling Tupperware for the past 20 years and is in Long Island hoping to gain some insight into the East Coast Tupperware lifestyle.

Illustration by Maxwell Tielman

The other person who is even more shockingly out of place is the Tupperware saleswoman herself. This is Aunt Barbara , a drag queen character created by the actor Bobby Suchan. At least six-foot-five in heels, Aunt Barbara towers above the crowd of women sitting before her. She is covered head to toe in dark bronzer, her lips painted a shocking hot pink and her turquoise eyelids weighed down by plumes of artificial lashes. She wears a vintage yellow and black tunic dress, a diamond-encrusted letter “B” on her chest and a pair of dark pantyhose that have ripped down the sides of her legs. To top it all off, Bobby has added a comically oversized black wig, further enforcing Aunt Barbara’s signature kitsch-chic aesthetic. Known for her high-pitched giggle and 1960s grandmother drawl, Aunt Barbara is able to sell her products through laughter.

“When I roll out of bed at the crack of dawn, there are two things I reach for,” Aunt Barbara squeaks, her faux-drunken voice slurring slightly. “A home pregnancy test and my Tupperware Quick-Shake container. I go to the kitchen, throw in a little Alba 77, some half and half, and I fill it all the way up to the top with vodka.” The crowd of beige-clad women, so rigid in its composure just minutes ago, bursts into laughter. They are no match for Aunt Barbara’s shameless, self-deprecating brand of humor.