On a trip with friends to the west coast of Vancouver Island one summer, I found a “Holly Hobbie” brand mug that had washed up on shore. The next morning I showed it to my friend Jonathan, who was cooking us breakfast.
Me: Look! Isn’t that sweet. It says “Good friends are like sunshine…”
J: … They come around every couple of weeks.
Me: … And give you cancer.
(For those who don’t live in this part of the world, the line about the sun coming around every couple of weeks identifies this as a Pacific Northwest joke.)
Listen, the reason I’m bringing up Holly Hobbie and her ilk is that I’m going to implode if I don’t say something about the Rise of Cute. A scary proportion of the highest-traffic decor blogs and sites, not mentioning any names, hipster or otherwise, has lately undergone some sort of bodysnatching by a powerful, unholy agglomeration of down-home samplers, gingham, cutesy illustrations of big-eyed, bonneted little girls in country dresses, grandmothery country kitchens, wan girls on bicycles, wan girls doing nothing but looking wan, posters with bromide-y mottos, lace, doilies, frilly stationery, tiny flower arrangements, illustrations of birdies on branches, tiny flower prints, early childhood decor in apartments not even occupied by children, general pinkness and the whole gamut of unrehabilitatable little-girl kitsch. The words “sweet,” “precious” and “darling” are appearing with a frequency that’s becoming really alarming.
This Little House on the Prairie Redux—all these white children in patchwork and smiling (white) women in frocks with their forearms dusted in flour—seems to be harking back to a simpler time that frankly never existed and even if it had, god forbid. Quite apart from my aesthetic recoil from this particular category of kitsch, I’m worried that on a broader level its flight from reality is an indicator of a politically conservative retrenchment. There’s also a lot of safe, semi-but-not-really-updated Edwardian or Victorian genteel traditionalism around in decor (hipsters, I’m including you). It’s not as bad, but definitely on the same continuum. The Neo-Stuffy traditionalism of all this airless decor isn’t just mildly backward-looking. A lot of it actually feels like a disposal not just of adulthood, adventurousness and any engagement in our real historical moment, but of feminism, too, which is all the more distressing when this region of the internet, with its multimillion-dollar glut of cutesy decorative craft, is so completely female-dominated. More and more I’m having moments of wanting to stab myself in the eye with a fork. I can already hear people saying “live and let live” and “to each her own” and all that, but culture and aesthetics are not comfortably separate from the rest of the social realm; they’re not meaningless, sheerly personal follies. They’re the thin end of the wedge of politics and philosophy. I’m sorry to be ornery, but as Lizzie Bennet liked to say, I speak as I find. And what I find is that this Cute Utopia is my dystopia. [Stomps foot.]
Click below. And if you think I’m exaggerating, click here.
“Kitsch tends to mimic the effects produced by real sensory experiences [comparesimulation/simulacra , (2)], presenting highly charged imagery, language, or music that triggers an automatic, and therefore unreflective, emotional reaction.  Pictures of couples silhouetted against sunsets or songs with lavish, repeated crescendos elicit a conditioned response from a broad audience. Milan Kundera calls this key quality of kitsch the “second tear:” “Kitsch causes two tears to flow in quick succession. The first tear says: How nice to see the children running in the grass! The second tear says: How nice to be moved, together with all mankind, by children running in the grass! It is the second tear which makes kitsch kitsch.”  The appeal of kitsch resides in its formula, its familiarity, and its validation of shared sensibilities. 
The self-congratulatory spirit of kitsch can also be seen as a deception. Kitsch holds up a “highly considerate mirror,” according to Hermann Broch, that allows contemporary man to “recognize himself in the counterfeit image it throws back at him and to confess his own lies (with a delight which is to a certain extent sincere).”  By providing comfort, kitsch performs a denial. It glosses over harsh truths and anesthetizes genuine pain. As Harold Rosenberg perceived: “There is no counterconcept to kitsch. Its antagonist is not an idea but reality.”  [see reality/hyperreality , (2)] “