Portable World

For the adolescent of any age who has everything, there is a gasoline-powered pogo stick. For one who worries about the air around him, there is a stainless-steel belt that monitors pollution. For the woman who likes jewelry and is uncertain where she will be sleeping next, there is the "wild oats sowing kit"-a silver and brass pendant containing a Dialpak of contraceptive pills. For those bothered by walking in cold places, there are woolen socks heated by a battery.

On the sound theory that humanity craves mobility, the Museum of Contemporary Crafts in Manhattan is staging a show called "Portable World." No gypsy could crave more items that can be folded out, inflated, worn or comfortably toted. "Body extensions"--notions to be worn by people on the move--include the "Toot-a-Loop" radio, which twists around the arm like a snake. The sauna bodysuit promises to create a hotbox effect merely by being hooked up to a portable hair dryer.

Those who fear fainting spells might like the necklace that contains a small oxygen mask. Another necklace, this one trimmed with peacock feathers, monitors the wearer's body temperature. An ornate gold and silver bracelet carries an electronic gadget that measures pulse rate. Perhaps the farthest-fetched item is an enclosed vehicle, with "legs" in back and wheels in front. It carries one rider and is powered by a small motor. Called the Madison Park Stroller, it is supposed to be a piece of art as well as a conveyance.

"The Victorian attic is gone," says Museum Director Paul Smith, "and we must minimize our possessions." Hence his home-furnishings display concentrates on items that can be used for more than one purpose or are easily stacked and stowed. Sleeping bags are brightly adorned and embroidered to serve as wall hangings between camping trips. Triangular wool pieces can be spread out as floor covering or piled up as low seats. A lamp inflates like a balloon. A combination writing table and bulletin board can be folded down to a rectangle only three inches thick. There are dining-room sets that collapse into practically nothing, a mini-kitchen that is housed inside a unit the size of a rolling bar and even an "environmental bower," a kind of cocoon that can be set up in any room to provide quiet and privacy. There, presumably, one can dream of times more spacious and sedentary.

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