Monica Yant Kinney: Where hopefuls are tying one on

Outsiders driving through Haddonfield may think the quaint South Jersey suburb threw itself a party, with all the colorful bows decorating trees, porches, doors, lampposts, and at least one statue of a golden retriever.

Actually, it's election season. Instead of a campaign sign, each beautiful bow represents a candidate for the Borough Commission.

Go ahead, laugh. I've lived in Haddonfield for nine years and still wonder how small-town politics became so sweet and civilized.

"People probably think it's so silly that this dizzy woman came in and said, 'We've got to put up bows!' " says Mayor Tish Colombi, the first woman in the job, who once spent $4 for each curled creation in her signature shade of red.

Actually, the girliness can be traced to a man.

And actually, Haddonfield politics is not entirely genteel, given recent cries of bow-snatching.

If you think ribbons are to be trifled with, consider the last candidate who thumbed his nose at the town tradition. When the votes were tallied, he came in dead last.

Haddonfield has never been much for campaign signs in local races. But as a naive newcomer, Colombi dared to use them in her first run in 1985.

Fellow commissioners later schooled her on the "tacky" no-no. But don't blame her for the bows.

The practice began in 1989 when then-Mayor Jack Tarditi dubbed himself "the blue-ribbon candidate." He kept blue until stepping down in 1997, when another candidate claimed the color.

This year, inexplicably, no one used blue. And Tarditi, not wanting to play favorites, displayed all six candidates' bows even though he can vote for only three on Tuesday.

Truth be told, most residents have no clue who chose which hue. The Haddonfield Sun, a free weekly, ran a color chart. Talk about a public service!

JoAnn Gurenlian wanted turquoise, but campaign aides told her to think pink. " 'It's a sign of spring,' " they said, "and I'm the only other woman in the race."

Gurenlian is also a breast-cancer survivor. So the challenger, who runs a health-care consulting firm, settled on pale pink, explaining, "I didn't want a cotton-candy look."

Incumbent Ed Borden cleverly identifies himself with red and black, the high school's colors.

Twice in recent years, two different candidates named Neal picked green - including incumbent Neal Rochford.

Challenger Sean Leonard went with orange. No candidate has ever chosen purple or brown. And though Haddonfield is gay-friendly, I've never seen a rainbow bow.

"Yellow gets mixed up with supporting the troops," challenger Jeff Kasko explains when I ask for his shade-selection strategy. "Black? White? Too ordinary."

Kasko chose gold.

"I was thinking about slogans like 'Go for the gold' or 'The gold standard,' " says the communications manager. "Gold is neutral. It's not ugly. It doesn't tick anyone off."

Haddonfield never passed a sign ban. By now, everyone just knows to use bows.

"Once the rules are established, you go with the flow," Colombi reasons. "That's the kind of respectful community we are."

Commissioners earn just $5,200, but hometown pride is at stake. The competition is as fierce as any.

"People will ask for a bow, and you give them a bow, then you find bows of other candidates on top of your bow," notes Gurenlian, who is tiring of "bow mania."

Kasko tells me merchants feel pressure to hang bows even though they don't live in town and can't vote.

"Downtown," he alleges, "has been junked up by all the bows."

Colombi, the veteran, has felt the strain. She has been both accused of, and a victim of, bow-related shenanigans.

"I was insulted," she shares. "My bows disappear all the time."

Blame teenagers? The wind? The Smoke Monster from Lost?

Who knows? They're only bows.