Forget Electric Cars
First it was tiny houses. Now it’s tiny cars. And I mean TINY.
This 1955 Eshelman may not seem like the perfect gift. Sure, it only has one cylinder and a horsepower of 3. Top speed is 25 mph. Brakes are a 2 wheel paddle. I don’t even know what that is.
But I know I don’t have to call shotgun. I don’t have to cart some scrub around because this ride only seats one. I don’t have to worry about driving too fast in the suburbs because I can’t gun it past the limit. No speeding tickets for me. And the color, why, it’s inspiring!
Away In A Manger, The Little Lord Jesus And His Other Brother, Darryl
from Pleated Jeans
Not The Best Way To Land A Man
This Del Masters pinup opens itself up to many questions. Firstly, we all know that hitchhiking is frowned upon, especially once serial killers came into vogue. Who knows what kind of person might rescue her? Secondly, there is no way that seaplane could spot her thumb from so high above. Even supposing it is a seaplane that had the capability of landing Sully-style near her, the waves would topple her raft, especially if she insists on standing astride it. The last thing a pilot wants to see is a distraught young woman in a wet, white shirt.
Thirdly, both she and her luggage would be better off sitting down. Surely she’s not wearing stilettos, or the raft will be sunk in no time. Why is she on a raft in the first place? Did her boat overturn on a three hour tour? Did everyone else perish? Did one oar float away? It’s a good thing she’s decked out in her best seafaring ensemble, garters, and flimsy blouse. Let’s just hope that pilot isn’t on his phone, or he may just miss her.
Vintage Farmers Market
Billy ought not take one step forward or those blueberries are liable to tumble down along the sidewalk. In fact, all of the produce seems balanced at a precarious angle, as you can see, and as they can see. This entire page is about seeing. I see a well-dressed family at the grocery store, perhaps in their Sunday best. What do you see?
When better automobiles are built, Buick will build them.
But until then, drive mediocre automobiles. What? I don’t get it. Buick WILL build them? As in the future? So what are you doing now?
Browsing the Antique Mall
A bouffanted, bespectacled lady side-eyed us soon after we entered the Austin Antique Mall. She rocked a sombrero better than a nearby cheetah rocked his cowboy hat.
We perused aisles of knick-knacks, some of which made zero sense, like this limber colonial.
Large, upright sound systems beckoned us, but we hadn’t the cash for them, snazzy as they were–and just my style.
Some rooms we only glanced into, fairly certain we didn’t need such breakable wares.
My husband recognized this from his boyhood.
Other finds proved wearable, like this skull dress and peacock boots (perhaps not worn together).
Some items were on the verge of extinction, like this cigarette machine.
We rounded the corner past a Koken barber chair and a disturbing Buster Brown.
The Savior himself seemed to be saying, “Enough shopping already.” His mom stayed silent.
That was good enough for us. Our wallets remained in our back pockets and we left the remaining vendor stalls for another day.
We Had It All (We Had It All)
… just like Bogie and Bacall. ♪♫♫ While sparking up may have been a turn on for his much younger 4th wife, Bogey’s health would head south soon after this ad. Turns out smoking’s not good for your lungs. But they sure looked cool at the time.
Esophageal cancer was his diagnosis, which led to surgery, and included removal of his esophagus, two lymph nodes, and a rib. Ouch! Bogie wasted down down to 80 lbs and passed away in early ’57. Lauren Bacall smoked for decades and died just shy of 90. Life’s funny that way.
More Than Nice
Last year, when travel was limited, I shared with my dear readers, in two separate posts, some lovely vintage postcards from the Côte d’Azur. Today, we add the third and final installment.
A Mad, Mad World
When A Plate Of Ribs Was $1.35
Today we take a quick look at yearbook ads in the back of my 1955 University of Miami, Coral Gables, Florida yearbook. Yes, ads might seem banal, but I enjoy the localized details, like this dry cleaning ad.
The cartoons are simple but fun; you can even see cleanliness emanating off the fabric. I like the dime price, the cellophane, and the so very Florida salute to the explorer who led the first Spanish expedition to the state over 500 years ago, Ponce de Leon. In case you’re wondering, yes “peaceful protesters” did vandalize the Ponce de León statues in Miami. What else are you going to do when you’re on unemployment to kill time?
Next up is a BBQ menu with prices one can’t even begin to process.
Have you ever heard of “corn-on-cob”? I’ve only eaten corn on the cob, but I respect the brevity. To think that in one lifetime, a rib plate could go from $1.35 to now $19.00 under this administration is absurd. Why, two chicken plates back then would barely buy me an iced tea today. Another fun fact is the location on the Dixie Hi-Way, which of course, doesn’t exist. The Dixie Chicks had to become the Chicks, Lady Antebullum had to become Lady A, so the Dixie Hi-Way gave way to a series of roads with boring names.
With Florida only being a stone’s throw from the not yet communist-oppressed Cuba, how could they not peddle some cigars? And look! If you buy two instead of one, you save an entire penny! One red cent! Go on, get your college kids some smokes to burn off the steam from finals.
We wrap it up with an all-American product that may surely contribute to diabetes, but don’t it go down nice?
Ah, yes, the delicious and refreshing teeny weensy bottle of Coca-Cola. Imagine how much energy it could provide to the person who had to draw that ad, with all those little lines upon that hand. Plus, it’s fun to note the six digit phone number. Well, that’s all from Coral Gables, y’all. Go out and enjoy a $19 rib plate.
Frosty, Man, Frosty
Now in Detroit! I’m not sure why this ad was targeted specifically at Detroit, giving its citizens (comprised of avid surfers along the Detroit coastline) access to the friendly Pepper-Upper. “Frosty, man, frosty” seems consistent with the beatnik counterculture depicted in the Dobie Gillis show that would air the following year. But isn’t the temperature of the drink dependent on its storage, and not its ingredients? Couldn’t any drink be frosty, man?
Like a pineapple, which is neither pine nor apple, Dr Pepper is neither medicinal nor peppery. But that didn’t stop the jingle makers of the 1977 commercial from using the bandwagon formula of letting all of America know that he, she, and they are peppers, and you might ought to get in line and become a pepper yourself. My friends and I loved to sing along with David Naughton when he appeared on our little black and white screens, donning a vest, and cavorting about. Oh, to be peppers!
Having lived in Texas my entire life, where DP was omnipresent, it was always an option. Many of us have visited the Dr Pepper Museum, as well as the Dublin Dr Pepper Bottling Company. We know it was created by a pharmacist in Waco 100 years before we started drinking soda, and we knew the period after Dr was dropped in 1950.
However, it could never top Coke in my opinion, so I opted out of consuming it thrice daily during times of low blood sugar (10, 2, and 4). In fact, I’ve never even ordered one at a restaurant. Perhaps it’s a guy thing. My husband adores it. Oft times, I’ve ordered Coke in a restaurant, and been challenged with “Is Pepsi okay?” which it never is, so I settle for iced tea. But no server ever asks, “Is Mr. Pibb okay?” Never. DP is always available, and unlike a box of chocolates, you always know what you’re gonna get.