by Carlene Phillips ·
Friday, August 23, 2024
An article in the New York Times has just given me the perfect idea of what I can do on this hot summer afternoon—fridgescape. It’s way too uncomfortable to garden or take a walk, and the thought of spending time decorating the inside of my refrigerator sounds refreshing for both of us.
According to the article, fridgescaping “sits at the intersection of home organizing and interior design.” It is “the extension of that visual culture where we want everything, even the insides of our fridges, to be a little Instagram-worthy.” It sounds like a perfect way for me to finally show my intersectionality and worthiness for the visual culture extension.
One lifestyle blogger writes about creating an enchanted-forest-themed fridge in just three hours. She puts the milk in a pink, paisley-printed pitcher and the butter in a quaint hedgehog dish. I have a lovely pitcher that was my grandmother’s. I would have to scour it because I’ve been using it for flowers—including dead ones. And I’m not sure it will hold a quart of milk. What would I do with what’s left over in the carton? I used to have a black and white ceramic cow that held milk for the grandkids’ cereal. A cow wouldn’t really go in an enchanted forest, but I like knowing I was fridgescaping long before this blogger.
She goes on to say she has cherries overflowing in a white, ceramic pedestal bowl. Nothing is on a pedestal in my house, but I do have a nice glass bowl I could use. It will be tricky to keep the overflow off the floor as I move the bowl from the counter to the fridge and, once in, to keep reaching hands from knocking fruit all over the rest of my fridgescape. She has figurines, lit by floral twinkle lights. I have a figurine of a little soldier boy that my brother brought home for my mom when he was stationed in Germany. Maybe he’s suitable for a forest, but not an enchanted one. And I’m not sure about the twinkle lights. She has fresh herbs in vases on one shelf. I have dill growing; I could pop a large seed head of that in a coffee mug.
Another blogger says fridgescaping helps her reduce waste. She is more excited to eat produce because it’s on display, not wilting in a drawer. I agree, I’m not a fan of eating wilted lettuce salad either. I can see her point about kale being front and center, but I’m afraid I would just push aside the greens barricade to find something more edible. But I can imagine a display of baby carrots lined up along the side of a dish, like a little picket fence—maybe with the twinkle lights on them instead of the soldier—unless taking one carrot would make the others fall like dominoes. The writer makes a comment that has me wondering if she has been binging on produce and it’s gone to her head: “Because I love how it looks, I want to make sure I eat everything in it.” This woman has no children and when some parents suggested her ideas couldn’t possibly work in their homes, she conceded that yes, “Kids complicate things.”
Of course Tupperware is out in these Instagram state-of-the-art fridge interiors. And practical items like condiments are tucked way in the back—don’t want that ugly mustard spoiling the decor. But what about my overflow bottles of salad dressings and sauces? I suppose I could toss some, especially those with use-by dates in the teens. But it’s such a recycling dilemma. I can’t in good conscience put the bottle in the green bag. But where to pour out the 2019 Thousand Island dressing? Indecision explains why the collection of bottles has grown way beyond the tucking-behind stage.
Another touch is to put in framed pictures of loved ones or pets. I’m sure my black Lab Hattie would be in another kind of heaven inside a refrigerator. There would be no exerting herself to steal food off the counter or out of a child’s hand. One designer lets out her inner child in her fridge. She has a line of those plastic bear-shaped bottles that come with honey in them; maybe some of them hold her untuckables. She props Disney-themed packages of cookie dough against the clear fronts of the crisper drawers. I wonder if she can restrain her will power or if she lets that out along with her inner child.
Tiffany—and I think this is the same Tiffany who wouldn’t buy my old house years ago because she and her husband Trevor “don’t do projects”—writes that she decorates with seasonal items. Ceramic mushrooms in early spring, porcelain eggs around Easter, rhinestones for her birthday in July. An event decorator, Tiffany makes this profound, eloquent, and inspirational comment: “If an artist’s medium is painting, they’ll go to a canvas. For me, mine is a refrigerator.”
Looking in my fridge, I realize I have very little there to inspire me, unless I want to do something with a Gothic or Dada theme. And, although the article assured me I could have thousands, even millions of followers with pictures of my fridgescaping, I remember now—I don’t have an Instagram account. I’ll go stick my head in a cold shower instead.
Carlene Phillips is a regular feature writer who pauses occasionally to reflect on the humor of everyday life.