Hostesses by Trade
by Stevie J.
(image source)
If you asked most Americans today about Tupperware, they'd probably say "Yeah, it's a plastic container." To people like us, "Tupperware" can mean anything from a genuine Tupperware brand product to an old yogurt container. The same vocabulary is used to describe cheaper containers by Rubbermaid and disposable Ziploc merchandise.
To a 1950s housewife, however, "Tupperware" was much more than a generic, common household device. It was quite a novel product that sparked a very specific cultural phenomenon.
Tupperware began in 1942, introduced by Earl Silas Tupper (PBS). Despite praise and plenty of advertising, it actually didn't sell very well at first (Clarke, 2). This changed when Brownie Wise, a single mother in need of money, began selling Tupper's product from her home (PBS). Brownie's "Tupperware parties" were so successful that in 1950, Earl Tupper withdrew Tupperware from retail and department stores (Clarke, 2).
This growing trend of Tupperware sales in the home blurred the boundary between housewife and "working girl." In some ways, it allowed women to contribute to their households monetarily without fear of judgment. In other ways, it reinforced the domestic constraints on 1950s American women.
As the Tupperware party gained popularity, Brownie Wise climbed the corporate ladder. She was vice president of Earl Tupper's company and the first woman ever to be pictured on the cover or Business Week (PBS). At a time when women were highly discouraged from entering the business world, such recognition seems out of place. When scrutinized more closely, however, Brownie Wise's success was perfectly congruent with the ideals of the time.
Brownie Wise earned her way by exploiting one of the roles of a traditional housewife: the hostess. The demand for Tupperware and Tupperware parties, then, fueled a demand for hostesses with respectable families and well-kept homes. This also reinforced the idea that women could find fulfillment, even business and financial, through their domestic feminine role.
Interestingly, Tupperware parties worked very well with the suburban dynamic. The fact that neighbors lived so close together made it easy to gather party guests. This closely oriented layout also made neighborhood appearances and domestic competition a concern for many housewives, driving their consumption of household items. The same factors facilitated recruitment of new hostesses and Tupperware distributors.
Even the party games and activities seemed to interact with beliefs about women and their tendencies. Games entitled "Clothes Pin" and "Waist Measurement" encouraged women to compare the size of their waists. The "Game of Gossip" and "Chatterbox" validated the female stereotypes of excessive talking, nosiness, and interest in scandal (Clarke, 108).
Undoubtedly, these games were planned because these were the types of things that women were thought to enjoy. Hostesses must have believed that gossip and competition would help them sell Tupperware; otherwise they wouldn't have played the games.
Additionally, Tupperware products presented a fascinating dichotomy between thrift and excess (Clarke, 115). On one hand, Tupperware products were made to conserve space and maximize food usage. They were good quality and built to last, making them a good value. They were practical. On the other hand, decorative products like place mats and useless items like salt and pepper shaker holders were the mark of extravagance and overindulgence. It's as if Tupperware snuck these impostors in with their practical counterparts to trick consumers. If a housewife needs a Tupperware container, she must need a salt and pepper shaker holder, too.
The false sense of need that extravagant Tupperware products seemed to instill is oddly reminiscent of the false sense of purpose proposed by Betty Freidan's Feminine Mystique. Women were supposed to feel complete in the domestic setting, but they remained unsatisfied. Perhaps they tried to satisfy their unfulfilled lives with Tupperware products.
It seems that American women in the 1950s were trapped in their own homes and domestic roles. Tupperware parties brought them economic, occupational, and social opportunities independent of their husbands. Women may have embraced the product because of the potential fulfillment afforded them by these parties, but in the end, the parties did not seem to quench "the problem with no name." Why? The parties provided only a false sense of independence because the hostesses were still confined to their own houses, performing domestic tasks in servitude of another entity (Earl Tupper's company). Party guests were guests in homes more or less the same as their own, leaving them to draw comparisons between themselves and their neighbors. When everyone has the same house, the same "domestic destiny," and virtually the same life, one can distinguish herself only by the tidiness of her house, the height of her children, and the amount of Tupperware that she owns.
Sources:
Clarke, Alison J. Tupperware: the Promise of Plastic in 1950s America. Washington: Smithsonian Institution P, 1999.
Friedan, Betty. The Feminine Mystique. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2001.
"Tupperware!" PBS. 28 Nov. 2005. 10 Oct. 2006.
If you asked most Americans today about Tupperware, they'd probably say "Yeah, it's a plastic container." To people like us, "Tupperware" can mean anything from a genuine Tupperware brand product to an old yogurt container. The same vocabulary is used to describe cheaper containers by Rubbermaid and disposable Ziploc merchandise.
To a 1950s housewife, however, "Tupperware" was much more than a generic, common household device. It was quite a novel product that sparked a very specific cultural phenomenon.
Tupperware began in 1942, introduced by Earl Silas Tupper (PBS). Despite praise and plenty of advertising, it actually didn't sell very well at first (Clarke, 2). This changed when Brownie Wise, a single mother in need of money, began selling Tupper's product from her home (PBS). Brownie's "Tupperware parties" were so successful that in 1950, Earl Tupper withdrew Tupperware from retail and department stores (Clarke, 2).
This growing trend of Tupperware sales in the home blurred the boundary between housewife and "working girl." In some ways, it allowed women to contribute to their households monetarily without fear of judgment. In other ways, it reinforced the domestic constraints on 1950s American women.
As the Tupperware party gained popularity, Brownie Wise climbed the corporate ladder. She was vice president of Earl Tupper's company and the first woman ever to be pictured on the cover or Business Week (PBS). At a time when women were highly discouraged from entering the business world, such recognition seems out of place. When scrutinized more closely, however, Brownie Wise's success was perfectly congruent with the ideals of the time.
Brownie Wise earned her way by exploiting one of the roles of a traditional housewife: the hostess. The demand for Tupperware and Tupperware parties, then, fueled a demand for hostesses with respectable families and well-kept homes. This also reinforced the idea that women could find fulfillment, even business and financial, through their domestic feminine role.
Interestingly, Tupperware parties worked very well with the suburban dynamic. The fact that neighbors lived so close together made it easy to gather party guests. This closely oriented layout also made neighborhood appearances and domestic competition a concern for many housewives, driving their consumption of household items. The same factors facilitated recruitment of new hostesses and Tupperware distributors.
Even the party games and activities seemed to interact with beliefs about women and their tendencies. Games entitled "Clothes Pin" and "Waist Measurement" encouraged women to compare the size of their waists. The "Game of Gossip" and "Chatterbox" validated the female stereotypes of excessive talking, nosiness, and interest in scandal (Clarke, 108).
Undoubtedly, these games were planned because these were the types of things that women were thought to enjoy. Hostesses must have believed that gossip and competition would help them sell Tupperware; otherwise they wouldn't have played the games.
Additionally, Tupperware products presented a fascinating dichotomy between thrift and excess (Clarke, 115). On one hand, Tupperware products were made to conserve space and maximize food usage. They were good quality and built to last, making them a good value. They were practical. On the other hand, decorative products like place mats and useless items like salt and pepper shaker holders were the mark of extravagance and overindulgence. It's as if Tupperware snuck these impostors in with their practical counterparts to trick consumers. If a housewife needs a Tupperware container, she must need a salt and pepper shaker holder, too.
The false sense of need that extravagant Tupperware products seemed to instill is oddly reminiscent of the false sense of purpose proposed by Betty Freidan's Feminine Mystique. Women were supposed to feel complete in the domestic setting, but they remained unsatisfied. Perhaps they tried to satisfy their unfulfilled lives with Tupperware products.
It seems that American women in the 1950s were trapped in their own homes and domestic roles. Tupperware parties brought them economic, occupational, and social opportunities independent of their husbands. Women may have embraced the product because of the potential fulfillment afforded them by these parties, but in the end, the parties did not seem to quench "the problem with no name." Why? The parties provided only a false sense of independence because the hostesses were still confined to their own houses, performing domestic tasks in servitude of another entity (Earl Tupper's company). Party guests were guests in homes more or less the same as their own, leaving them to draw comparisons between themselves and their neighbors. When everyone has the same house, the same "domestic destiny," and virtually the same life, one can distinguish herself only by the tidiness of her house, the height of her children, and the amount of Tupperware that she owns.
Sources:
Clarke, Alison J. Tupperware: the Promise of Plastic in 1950s America. Washington: Smithsonian Institution P, 1999.
Friedan, Betty. The Feminine Mystique. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2001.
"Tupperware!" PBS. 28 Nov. 2005. 10 Oct. 2006.
posted by Leslie Madsen-Brooks at 10/11/2006 10:14:00 AM
3 Comments:
Did tupperware parties have any aid in starting a womens working movemnet from in the house? Now a days women can work from home easily, especially for travel agents and specialty companies. Not to mention it has expanded to men wanting to work at home as well. Since societal norms have shifted more men are staying home and taking over those responsibilites and are able to have a parttime jobs.
Tupperware is such an interesting topic because it was the first creation of its time. It was an item that let women go outside of their own home for a social function not realated to thier husband's jobs. But they do not escape their role, they are "only" at this party to potentially buy a good which will benefit their ablity to care for their husband and family. It was interesting to think about tupperware as the consumption of products for the home as well as the hostest of the party is still being trapped in the role of hostest as she is holding this event which was responsible for giving women power in the corporate world.
-Helen Meyers
I thought this blog was really interesting in pointing out the push and pull between "thrift and excess". On the one hand, women needed to save as much food as they could for use at a later time. But at the same time they were cooking enough food so that some was leftover. I wonder what effect if any the ending of the war had on this split idea?
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