Sometimes the ads in the back of old yearbooks are just as interesting as the pics inside. This is a right fancy car for only $790. Looks like you could rear end the fellow in front of you and still not come close to smooshing your legs.
The yearbook included this cool image of the students inside a cave. Creepy!
Then there’s this too close for comfort wrestling team. 
En garde! Theater students have all the right moves. 
Nestled snug inside my August 1947 copy of National Geographic lies this interesting piece of art.
Isn’t it just fantastic? I love the split levels. As with many ads of yore, it contained many more words than we’d bother reading today. But this was 1947, and most folks didn’t own a TV. Reading was a way to pass the time. With no information highway, ads were the information.
Having never visited New York, or anywhere up north for that matter, I had no idea what an SRO sign was. Evidently, it’s a single-room-occupancy residence. So I learned something today! How ’bout them apples? However, I have seen pics of subways, and they don’t look like “bright, cheerful cars” to me. And as far as 7.8 million population, that’s another lesson in demographics. New York City only has 8.5 million residents today. Yes, it’s true that there were 7.8 back then, but it’s also true that by 1980, the population had actually reduced down to a straight 7 million. It wasn’t until the 1990s that it surpassed what it had been in 1947. I guess you can only shove so many marbles in a jar.
I know, I know–a lot of Baby Boomers love them some White Diamonds. There’s just something about the scent that makes me cringe. I could be innocently shopping at TJ Maxx or standing in line for coffee at church, and then WHOOSH! the stench of White Diamonds infiltrates my personal space and sticks to my clothes and hair, and nine hours later, there it is, wafting on the wind as I try to snack on cashews or flip through Southern Living magazines. It is in-escapable.
People often say the first thing they notice about Oprah is how great she smells, but you never hear anyone saying that about Liz Taylor. Why? No, not because she’s dead. White Diamonds, friends. White Diamonds.
CricketKitty wrote on http://www.basenotes.net:
I really wanted to like this fragrance out of respect for Liz Taylor, but try as I might, I couldn’t. I occasionally got whiffs of coconut, but it’s not listed in the notes. The rest of it is plastic and screechy synthetic notes.
Nukapai said:
This perfume has the odour of an old wig that’s been in heavy use, perfumed, powdered and seldom washed.
Debbie R. agreed:
This is one of the most vile fragrances ever created. Harsh, shrill and cheap-smelling. It’s for someone pretending to have money.
I see I am not alone in my assessment.
Top left: Louis Icart, 1948
Top right: Jean Gabriel Domergue, 1937
Bottom two: Jean Gabriel Domergue, 1950
Here we see the staff of the South Texan, the paper for the Texas College of Arts & Industries, hard at work. The ladies are donning mid-war bandannas a la Rosie the Riveter, and everyone is up to his ears in paperwork.
Check out the old phone and typewriter. Who knew one day they’d put a typewriter inside the phone?
Pictured above are the editor-in-chief (Bill) and the associate editor (Katherine). Doesn’t Katherine remind you a bit of Lily’s Tomlin’s Ernestine?
These college gals didn’t take themselves too seriously. As it turns out, Dot Moseley lived to the age of 88. Her obituary states, “As a member of the Alamo Community Church choir, she delighted in singing the old hymns, most of which she knew by heart. A devoted friend to all, especially to her Low-Lits pals (Little Old Ladies in Tennis Shoes), she never missed sharing and celebrating all the events of their lives. The ultimate hostess, Dorothy set the standards in etiquette especially when it came to flower arranging, table setting and gift giving.”
Well, what do have we here? It seems as though Mom and Dad have just returned from Sunday services, and Margie (who surely attended as well) quickly changed into … why, YES, it IS a teenie, weenie, yellow polka-dot bikini (the song actually came out 10 years after this picture) and is testing the pool water. But doesn’t it seem odd that Dad hasn’t at least loosened his tie since returning home? Mom didn’t pause to take her gloves off and set them on the counter? It’s such a strange juxtaposition. Can’t her parents swim? Dad is either so full of pride at the amazing back dive Margie has in store or he’s stabilizing himself from holding that heavy camera. Come on, Margie! You can do it!
I just purchased a 1943 Texas A&I College yearbook. Though the country was at war, the students still found time to make merry.
In fact, there seemed to be a smooching epidemic!
But as far as the FFA Barn Dance, I won’t even hazard a guess as to what was going on here.
I Don't Get It 