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Accoutrements is a manufacturer of novelties, gifts, and toys that was started as a mail-order business in the 1970s by Mark Pahlow. Initially he sold unusual found products, but today the company has a vast line of original merchandise thats wholesaled to stores everywhere.
  
Archie McPhee, Seattle is essentially the Accoutrements brick and mortar shop which opened in 1983, however they also sell stuff from other manufacturers, as well as some vintage store stock and other curiosities. 

McPhee.com is their online shop, and The Archie McPhee catalog offers direct to consumer mail-order.

To summarize: They make and sell a lot of stuff, in a lot of different ways.

ME AND McPHEE

I collected Accoutrements products for years before I knew the company existed.  It had never occurred to me that one place could be responsible for such an eclectic mix of my possessions. Things like: a leopard skin fez, a potato gun, rubber monster women, boxing puppets, a shrunken head, fake mustaches, monkey drink ornaments, a martian stress reliever, finger puppets, swizzle sticks, wind-up creatures, and a prized glow-in-the-dark figurine named Senor Misterioso.  Maybe it should have been obvious.

Somehow their product line infiltrated my life without any help from my local retailers. Many of which would stock fly masks for horses, but never horse masks for humans. I picked up much of my Accoutrements merch during road trips by way of souvenir shops, hip toy retailers, and costume suppliers. (This has all changed in recent years. At this moment Im in walking distance from a brand new pair of squirrel underpants.) The other half of my collection was gifted to me, usually for no real occasion aside from "I saw this and immediately thought of you." Ive received several items from people that I hardly knew, remote co-workers and friends of friends, acting on a personal calling to unite me with a pocket rubber chicken launcher, for example. Some things are just meant to be together.

Further proving this point, In 2008 an email appeared in my inbox from David Wahl, Accoutrements longtime "Director of Awesome." He had recently helped create a book about their company called "Who Would Buy This? The Archie McPhee Story," which he offered to me since Im one of the few other humans to make a book about a novelty company. (I raved about their book here.) We stayed in touch, and before long I was a staff writer for Monkey Goggles, an experimental McPhee offshoot that featured original online content. Eventually I got to know more of the Accoutrements crew in a cyber sense.

A visit to their home offices always seemed imminent, but it took me nearly seven years to get the ball rolling. Once I did, the logistics fell into place effortlessly, from my schedule, to my funding, to my friends available couches that popped up on the path between me and Mukilteo, Washington. As soon as I left my driveway, speed took over. The trip was one week of constant motion with no resistance, as if I was riding a cosmic people mover. The sense of inevitability was palpable, I could have taken my hands off the wheel and still made it there. Sure, I would have crashed, but the ambulance would have mistakenly delivered me to the Accoutrements headquarters.

ARRIVAL

All of the days, miles and dollars that had gone into my trip made me feel tremendous pressure to make the most of my visit. I didnt just happen to be in the neighborhood, which was twenty-two hundred miles from my own. This was my destination. This was my Wally World, my Wonderland, my Wonka factory, but I only had about seven scant hours to experience everything. Ill go as far as comparing it to my wedding day in that it was another great time that was in constant danger of being crushed by its own momentousness. These thoughts kicked in the night before my big day as I attempted to fall asleep. The couch I was laying on was in Portland, which meant I needed to leave by six to get there by ten, hypothetically. So I set my alarm to five. I laid awake until one, and my nerves woke me up at four.

I started my car and the gas light flashed orange. My fear of running out escalated for a half hour before I found a station that was both accessible and open so early. The rest of my odyssey could be described as a three hour stress drive through fog with an intermission, courtesy of Seattles morning rush hour. I took the advice of my dumb GPS and ended up in a semi truck sandwich, plodding through industrial zones. Thats where I realized the two bottles of frappuccino were a mistake.

I cackled when the Accoutrements building finally came into view. I was late, and in dire need of a restroom. As I approached the front door I grew surprisingly self-conscious, wondering how my morning tribulation had affected my appearance and demeanor. I glanced down at my Nikes and thought "Wait, isnt Nike based around here? Do these people have strong feelings about Nike?" I opened the glass door, suddenly certain that my shoes were offensive.

Then I saw something in the breezeway that made everything right again...

Prior to this, I had never been publicly welcomed. In that moment I discovered that a felt letter board welcoming can make a guy feel extremely welcomed. Plus it removes all doubt that youre in the wrong building, or on the wrong day. I savored this moment since it is probably the first and last of its kind.

I found the receptionist adjacent to a bank of highly personalized cubicles. I recognized faces from the Archie McPhee catalogs, and blog, and twitter feed, and packaging. One of the employees, "Fuzz," was even made into an action figure.

Most familiar to me was Shana, the "High Priestess of Rubber Chickens" (a.k.a. the lady who runs their retail store.) She had emerged from her office to introduce me to the room, which was just as welcoming as that felt sign had been.

The good vibes in there dispelled any notion that this was just another job to them. They seemed to embrace the fun-maker lifestyle. It was apparent in both attitude and decorating choices which included a giant cactus wearing a panda mask wearing a crown, as well as a poster for the 1970 film, Bigfoot. But was this all just a put-on for the office tour? In an act of investigative journalism, I passed through again later in the day, and snapped this candid scene of playful comradery...

This is exactly what you want to see at a place like this.

After my brief introduction, David Wahl appeared next to me. For the first time ever, we communicated with our voices instead of digital text. Among his first words to me were directions to the restroom. Then David led me to his office where he stood up nice and straight for a photo...

His work space did not disappoint. Surrounding a hub of chairs were an assortment of artifacts that included: a collection of revealing wall art, a life-size skeleton..

celebrity ventriloquist dummies...

A  bookshelf beautifully dressed, and full of titles both familiar and intriguing...

And a standing desk infested with rubber creatures...

I set up camp knowing that my bags would be secure in this sanctuary. It was time for my official tour!

But wait! Lets take a moment to dwell on the significance of what you are about to see. There is no other business or place like this. Their thousands of original creations have achieved cultural relevance without relying on the movies, artists, comics, characters, and properties that overshadow our pop culture. Yet their work shows up all over the internet, in entertainment, and in the news.

They have established new classics. The now iconic Horse Head Mask is the Groucho disguise of today. Accoutrements also keeps our novelty heritage alive by offering many that were orphaned by their original creators such as the rubber chicken, the Martian Popping Thing, and yes, the Groucho disguise.


THE TOUR

The upstairs halls are decked with printed histories of both Accoutrements and McPhee. The walls tell the story of a one-man operation gradually gaining a foothold in the culture. The display traces the catalogs progression from hand-xeroxed, zine-like issues, to todays colorful publication, which looks to be crafted by a large team of beatnik robots. David said, "You can see exactly when Mark first hired a graphic designer."

 

As we continued, David pointed out this Zombies of the Stratosphere poster as if I might have missed it otherwise.

 

This giant eyeball was just one of several jumbo things scattered throughout the building, echoing a philosophy that was mentioned later: make big things small and small things big.

Our next stop was the Archive. A large, orderly, well-lit room full of box-bearing shelves. Hand-written labels tantalized with claims of PUPPET HEADS, KNIVES AND CIGARETTES, VOODOO, COCONUT BRAS, and HALLOWEEN. The room was divided into two sections: an area that held one of every existing Archie McPhee product (!), and another that was reserved for third party samples. 

For most businesses, this level of documentation is unheard of. Nobody has the space, or the desire, or the manpower to do it right. Products are often intended to be as ephemeral as the daily newspaper, so no one expects todays stuff to mean anything tomorrow. The greeting card company I used to work for reluctantly shoveled original art into an overflowing closet, and that was more effort than most places make. I also recalled the S. S. Adams headquarters, and how I found original illustrations that had been reproduced millions of times hidden in filthy boxes tossed behind machinery. But again, more effort than most.

I knew I didnt have much time so I had to be selective. I instinctively went for pranks and spooky themed boxes. My instincts were correct!...

 

 This box was both irresistible...

...and accurate!

 

Not just puppet heads, spooky puppet heads!

 Vomitous!


Nothing was as it seemed, eyeballs were ping-pong balls, bones were really maracas!

 The historic sign from the former Archie McPhee location.

Dummy bombs, medical models and propaganda posters, all in one corner!

 

Our stop in the archive was all too short, but I was promised that we would return, and I promise the same to you.


THE DESIGN DEPARTMENT
In the very heart of the building we found a sanctum of creativity. Four wizards dwell there, endlessly conjuring products, packaging, promotional materials, as well as the web site. Mark has called their line of products "affordable art." These are the artists. (Im trying to sound epic here, but to be fair, there are a number of others who also contribute artistically.)

The back wall was full of prototypes and sketches of future products, all of which flew straight into my eyes. In the days after my visit I thought of a thousand designer-type questions I wish I would have asked. I was right there, and yet their process is still a mystery to me. I blame it on my fan addled state of mind. Truth is, I was already taking in so much that asking for more would have been sadistic.

Normally these gentlemen spend their days manipulating pixels, but in a twist of irony I captured their likenesses with the pixels of my camera.

 
 Scott King

 
Curt Hanks


 Scott Heffernan


Jim Koch

Jims work has also made it into my collection by way of the Circus Punks series he released a while back. He shows as much decorating restraint as I do, so Ive provided a closer look at his stuff for the benefit of everyone...
 



Theres a great article on these guys HERE.
 

THE DISTRIBUTION CENTER

Endless pallets of boxes may not pack much entertainment value, but they say a lot about the scope of the company. The warehouse is vast, much larger than I ever anticipated. It was fun to think about the concentration of wacky products in this space. How many yodelling pickles have made a pit stop here before scattering across the nation?

Bulk product storage goes over here...

Individual items are within reach here...

Your order is lovingly packed here...

 

Even in this utilitarian space the mirth cannot be contained. Again, this is exactly what you want to see at a place like this.

Fez appliques, the ultimate form of self-expression. 

FROM ADAMS TO ACCOUTREMENTS

Here is why my perspective on all of this is pretty unique. Almost exactly ten years prior to my Washington trip, I traveled to the opposite side of the the nation to Asbury Park, New Jersey, where I was turned loose in the S.S. Adams prank and magic factory to archive material for a book celebrating the companys centennial anniversary. So I couldnt help but see everything at Accoutrements in the context of the history of the American novelty biz.

Adams was among the first American companies to go beyond simply importing novelty items; they invented their own goods. They established a new canon of trick products with: Sneezing Powder, the Snake Nut Can, the Dribble Glass, and the Joy Buzzer. In terms of quality, Adams initially set the bar pretty high. For instance, the Super Joy Buzzer was a marvel of German engineering.

The way I see it, Adams ignited a torch a century ago that is currently held by Accoutrements, though few of their products are designed to deceive. Accoutrements has returned to Adams early philosophy: make products that are high in both originality and quality. They also uphold the principle of novelty for noveltys sake in a world where joke and magic shops are all but gone, in favor of costume shops and party stores. The notion that an occasion is necessary to buy something fun is appalling. Fact is, Mark Pahlow doesnt embrace the term "novelty" due to its association with cheap little junk. He has described their offerings as "a vast array of spectacular, eclectic, useless things." Speaking of Mark...

THE BOSSS OFFICE

After our warm-up round through the building it was time to meet Mark. We entered his office which seemed to be a metaphor for the entire operation. There was lots of fun stuff, but it was dominated by the necessity of business. My nerves returned to muddle our introduction, but David took the pressure off by pointing out some of the many conversation pieces, and I started noticing more treasures in every nook.

I asked Mark if I could photograph his work space. He replied,

"You want to take pictures of my mess?...Go ahead!"
You bet I wanted to. I also wish someone would have taken pictures of S.S. Adams mess.

Anyway, here it is...

Mark dug out a couple of choice items for us to admire and laugh at.

One was a fake cigar from the World War II era that concealed an American flag fan. I cant imagine a situation when this would be necessary, but that can be the sign of a great novelty.



We also examined a set of party enhancers that looked to be from the 1940s. Evidently, it was a time when Victorian-era photographs were real party savers.

We set out on phase two of my tour which took us past this impressive display of current products. A world where Shakespeare, Poe, and Freud are at home next to Bigfoot, and underwear for your hands.

Discarded signage was put to decorative use in this hallway.

A customized smock that was once worn at trade shows...

...hangs on a trinketed plaque awarded to Mark by "the staff." (Yes, trinketed is a real word.)

We stumbled on a true "only in the novelty biz" moment when we rounded the corner to find a mini horde of battery operated zombies lurking in the middle of the floor. As it turned out, the inventory was being tested after a consumer complaint. The alleged faulty zombie was an isolated incident.

Chinese plastic trinkets have long represented the lowest depths of the industrial food chain. Its a world where the knock-offs get knocked-off, a world of euphemistic artwork by anonymous artists that is reproduced and re-purposed for decades, a world of baffling design choices, and a delightful mishandling of the English language. The long-running products use cheaper materials with each generation until theyre nearly unrecognizable. Mark said this phenomenon is called "quality fade." Hearing this was immensely satisfying because its something Ive often observed but never had words for.

The boxes in the Archive dont seem to date very far into the twenty-first century because the sales process usually happens digitally nowadays. This collection chronicles a very specific, very mysterious slice of industrial culture at the end of the analog age, and that is what makes it so important. Tell me, where does another collection like it exist? No, really, please tell me because I want to see that one too. I truly could have spent the entire day in there, systematically opening and documenting every parcel.

Simply opening a box like the one pictured below is rewarding enough, but its the behind-the-scenes obscurity that made it extra-thrilling. I didnt see anything in these boxes that Ive seen on store shelves or on ebay. Sure, Ive seen tongue appliances before, bu

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