I Love the Smell of Cooking Plastic

Incredible Edibles represented a garden of wish fulfillment for the child lucky enough to have one, or – as was more likely by the 1970s – to have inherited a still-operable set from older siblings or cousins. You got to make your own candy, in the shapes of bugs and snakes, no less, with control over color and flavor. You did this in a semi-industrial press that got dangerously hot and weirdly smelly. With Incredible Edibles the worker controlled the means of production, and so an ideal mode of consumption came into existence – namely, that you as the kid got to eat as much custom-made candy as you wanted, under the guise of playing with a semi-educational toy. Until the raw materials (the Gobble-De-Goop© which came in little plastic containers and looked like auto paint) ran out, you lived in a very sticky worker’s paradise.

Incredible Edibles was just one blossom on the mutant rose bush that was Mattel’s ‘ThingMaker’ empire; a line of products that seemed aimed at educating the factory workers of tomorrow in the fine art of plastic engineering – and to start their exposure to toxic off-gases as early as possible. The ThingMakers were a line of small cheaply-made ovens, with interchangeable metal dies in which you poured liquid plastic. The heat solidified the plastic into a variety of toys or, in the case of the Edible Edibles, semi-gummy candy. 

The company did a bang-up job of exploiting the concept’s possibilities  – some of their offerings in the mid to late sixties (as currently described on Wikipedia) included:

• ·         Fighting Men (1965) — This set of six molds could be used to create mini soldier figures, using an innovative two-part mold to give the Fighting Men a front and a back. The set also included pieces of wire to place in the figure, making it bendle with the bottom wire protrusions being able to stand on a styrofoam base. Other molds in the set created weaponry and equipment for the Fighting Men to carry into battle.
• ·         Fright Factory (1966) — Five of this set's seven molds were dedicated to creepy disguises, making pieces such as fake scars, snaggled teeth, or a third eye for one's forehead. Another mold (with a special insert) made a shrunken head, and the last made a dangly skeleton that one built from parts.
• ·         Picadoos (1967) — A Thingmaker for artists. This one featured molds with 10x10-space numbered grids. By carefully placing colored Plastigoop in the grid, one could create decorative artwork in either beads, mosaic tile, or cross-stitch varieties.
• ·         Mini-Dragons (1967) — The eight molds in this set formed wings, horns, claws, tails, and other body parts, which could be combined into various fantasy creatures.
• ·         Eeeeks! (1968) — In the same vein as Mini-Dragons, this set of eight molds formed several varieties of mix-and-match legs, bodies, heads, wings, antennae, etc., to create large, bizarre insects.
• ·         DollyMaker (1969) — Five two-sided molds are used to create two styles of little dolls, and a wardrobe of late '60s fashions and accessories for them.
• ·         Super Cartoon Maker (1969) — A licensed Thingmaker, the eight molds in this set form replicas of Charles Schulz's Peanuts characters, such as Snoopy, Charlie Brown and Lucy.
• ·         Jillions of Jewels (1970) — The last of the classic Mattel Thingmakers. The set had five molds, but instead of the liquid Plastigoop, these formed solid plastic "gemstones" and jewelry frames from two kinds of powdered "Jewel Dust" compounds.

By the early 1970s these sets must have seemed like much less of a good idea from the parental standpoint. Let hot plastic fumes soak into Junior’s developing lungs? Let his small hands juggle hot metal molds? Let him actually eat these dubious products?   Before long, Creepy Crawlers and Incredible Edibles were driven from the market.

Personally, I think that it was all just overprotectiveness, a collective failure of will that did this. We still live by the precepts of industry and engineering, after all. Really, it is only honest to show our young how this plastic world is actually made and molded, to let them know that almost everything they touch started life in a barrel shipped from Newark, New Jersey. 

But then again, I don’t have any kids.