Saratoga News Powder Puffs weren't politically correct By Mary Ann Cook In these hi-tech days it's amusing to look back on some low-tech pursuits we may have followed. Pre-PC days seem so long ago it's almost like looking back at the horse and buggy era. Not that I was personal involved, you understand, with either horses or buggies. Still, once, about 25 years ago, I was part of a two-person operation called the Powder Puff Painters. It was a painting/wallpapering enterprise that started almost by accident. A friend was bewailing a wallpapering job that faced her, and another friend and I, who had been searching for gainful employment, looked at each other and said, "Hire us. We'll do it." We lived in central New Jersey in an enclave of ungainly, crumbling stucco homes, all of which were in continual need of rejuvenation or just plain damage control. Word of mouth took care of advertising. Others heard about us and hired us on for their projects. Soon we had as much business as we could handle. And something as tedious as painting isn't tedious at all when you've got a lively and talkative compatriot by your side. After several months of side-by-side effort, we probably knew as much about each other as twins do. Nothing pries out shared confidences, we found, faster than the smell of wallpaper removal chemicals. While we shredded old paper off the walls, we could also shred a few reputations. So the rewards of the job weren't all monetary. We had drop cloth, would travel. And we never encountered a bona fide disaster, at least one we couldn't handle. In one of our first major jobs, as we finished the first wall and rounded the corner, the wallpaper strips we had applied first came drifting lazily down. So much for long-stored, pre-pasted wallpaper. After that we slapped on our own adhesive as added insurance. We found that sand paint--sand mixed into the paint in varying proportions--would cover a multitude of sins in old houses. If you covet texture, sand paint is the answer to cover cracks and camouflage other disasters. We never found a tool with magic properties that amateurs might not know about. However, my partner went berserk over a 6-inch rectangular device with wheels that was used on corners. She squealed with delight whenever she used it. So enamored was she that she bought three, wrapped them up, and put them under her Christmas tree--for herself. Paint fumes do take their toll. As the months wore on we got faster and better. We leaned out over precarious places to paint third-story, impossible-to-reach places. Well, one of us did. I held her firm. We were so busy we had to hire people to work for us. One Puff was a closet worker. Her husband evidently didn't want her to work, so he didn't know she was so employed. She bought a fur coat with her earnings. How ridiculous and politically incorrect it sounds today--having to be employed in secret and buying animal skins as a reward. One of our first customers named us the Powder Puffs. One time we answered an ad and the woman at the door said in amazement, "I didn't think you'd be women!" With that name? Of course, today, her bafflement wouldn't be as hard to understand. Are powder puffs even around anymore? Mary Ann Cook is a columnist for the Saratoga News. [ Back to Contents Page | Saratoga News Home Page | Archives ] This article appeared in the Saratoga News, December 9, 1998. ©1998 Metro Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved.