Now THIS is a party! Colored lampshades, white tuxes, bobbed silver hair, moonlight at sea…
Most folks weren’t having a great 1933. While the unemployment rate reached an ungodly 25%, the idea of enjoying the luxury of an offshore cruiser was largely unattainable. But perhaps you could win the affection of a ruddy-complected captain.
Some high schools allow seniors to come up with quotes for their yearbook. By that fourth year, teens are tired of learning, and they fancy silly sayings. But these Midland High School quotes are in a whole different realm.
By the way, geophagy is the practice of eating earth or soil-like substrates such as clay or chalk. A perruquier is a maker of wigs.
I like how Lil Slowpoke was already looking 40 years into the future!
Old magazines did not mince words. This September 1933 Fortune magazine told it like it was. American bicycles were mostly for kids’ recreation. German women, however, used them to go fetch vegetables.
Strap your scarves on and off to market with you, proles!
Meanwhile, in America, nearly nude (especially in 1933!) women cavorted through neighborhoods on handlebars. What fun The Depression was! How could these gals have known that in only three months, Prohibition would be repealed by FDR, and everyone could toss their moonshine and swig legit ale? Happy days are here again!
I’m not sure exactly what this gentleman is dunking, but I know it ain’t donuts and coffee. I’ve sung the praises of Shorpy before, but it’s been many moons since I last visited the site. They have the most amazing high-res images, including this April 1941 shot of a tavern catering exclusively to African-Americans. Note the Snow White murals in the background. And those hats!!
It’s fun to zoom right into their faces and wonder what they were thinking.
Well, it’s three days after Christmas, so the retail shops are full of Valentine’s candy, like this generous portion of chocolates from 1949. You realize by next week, that pic will be 70 years old?
I don’t know about you, but I visit Walgreen’s weekly. Mostly to see if they have Arizona green tea on special, but also to peruse the chocolate aisle and grab a box (or five) of Russell Stover. I am familiar with every Russell Stover chocolate, chew, or cream that exists. I could rank them all in order. Roman nougat would be near the top, and I don’t even know what makes it Roman. The pinkness? But only in dark, not milk. I get the yellow box.
And I can never eat just one.
What about you? Do you eat boxed chocolate? Does it remind you of Forrest Gump? Do you prefer Whitman’s?
Casting aside his usual job duties of managing and motivating underlings, Supervisor Thompson spent most of the yearbook staff party throwing shade at other guests. First he ordered Christi to bite her pearls to see if they were real (they weren’t), then drew a map showing DeWayne exactly where the belt department was in Foley’s, should the thought ever occur to him to purchase one. DeWayne then attempted a saucy retort about Thompson’s monstrous spectacles, but it sadly missed its mark. Thompson was on to the next unfortunate fashion victim in no time.
Seriously–what WAS it with those huge lenses? Even Wonder Woman sported them.
Intent on Jehovah-knows-what, Miss Radley performs one of her duties as a member of Bevo’s Babes, a group of gals who served the men’s and women’s swim team. One job was to “boost the spirit of the swimmers.” Said the secretary of Bevo’s Babes, “We don’t want the girls who just want to look at guys in Speedos.” Personally, I’ve never met a girl who enjoyed that sight in the least. But to each her own.
The Babes also hosted and timed the National Collegiate Athletic Association swim meets, which lent some legitimacy to the organization. However, we all know the term “babe” is highly offensive in modern times and would not fly in 2018. While we’re at it, DJ’s should stop playing “I Got You, Babe” and Styxx’s “Babe,” and hurl the LP’s atop the pile of recent radio victim “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.” It’s a dirty four-letter-word now, problematic and sexist, so–as you can well imagine, the group is now defunct, babe.
What dystopian circumstances have arisen that require these students to build a fire inside a library, presumably from the unread pages of old Encyclopedia Brittanicas? What chaos has ensued that they must sit in weakly-constructed patio chairs and grow their sloven bangs out just to retain head heat? Who can say? All we know is Pepsi was still not okay.