“Gibson girl” Evelyn Nesbit poses in 1955 with the 1902 portrait drawn of her by Charles Gibson, reflecting the standard of female attractiveness at the cusp of the 20th century. This included voluptuous curves and, as Judy Garland sang in The Trolley Song, “hair piled high upon my head.”
Nesbit had a storied past, including a love triangle much too complicated for this small blog. We can, however, share the beauty of youth that is timeless.
While a tiger might seem a reach to sell Frosted Flakes, Satan selling pork products make even less sense, especially in 1949, when prayer still existed in public schools. I get it; it’s “deviled” ham, ground and spiced. But I don’t like my ham ground. I like it in thin peppery deli slices, like the ones I purchased this morning.
Deviled eggs, yes. Deviled ham, no.
Canned kipper, tuna, oysters–these I’m fine with. I can see their bony spines. I know it was one sardine I’m eating, not a grind of the worst parts of the pig, processed from 1000 swine into one little can.
Cracked.com reviewed several potted meats, referring to the “coating of newborn-esque vernix” that covered the moist meat (shudders). I hope the reviewer was compensated generously.
I know some of you eat Spam (ground pork shoulder–mostly) but I fear it’s full of hooves and tails. Maybe that’s why Satan makes sense for deviled ham; he has cloven feet. Jesus certainly couldn’t be the pitch man; he never even tasted pork because he was Jewish. And you can’t fashion a newborn manger Jesus out of deviled ham. These could use a little more paprika.
This Monarch ad reads like Alice in Wonderland meets The Wizard of Oz, in a colorful illustration fit for a children’s book. Who is the target demographic here? Elementary schoolers with a java fix? The ad also references Luke and Lucy, used repeatedly in post-war ads. Luke the Lion was the mascot, offering abundance to a hungry country. In some cases, he was even a magician!
With his gold crown, tame demeanor and lustrous mane, he quickly became Mom’s favorite dinner guest. Who cares if he’s not the most masculine of cats when his basket is always full of sweet peas and grapefruit juice?
Today we start a series of posters from the Cote d’Azure. Many of us haven’t traveled since the 20-teens, so I hope these serve to inspire you with sunny beaches and lush coastline.
This one, I surely don’t get. Try as I might, all I see is a man taking healthy strides while holding his laptop straight out ahead of him. As I missing something?
My April 1947 Seventeen magazine includes some cute rhymes to help teens be better human beings. The threat of a $100.02 fine (or $1,212 today, adjusted for inflation) should prove effective. I’ve never paid a library fine, nor a Blockbuster fee, as I try to live my life by the rules. But I can’t imagine anyone accruing over a thousand dollars in library fees, no?
This next image warns against tardiness, a reprehensible character flaw.
I am reminded of the chorus to Genesis’ “Misunderstanding.”
There must be some misunderstanding
There must be some kind of mistake
I was waiting in the rain for hours
You were late
Lastly, we see a milkman at sunrise, stumbling upon a woman who has forgotten her key, but somehow managed to locate a fluffy pillow.
If this was geared toward 1940s teens, I’m not sure of the implications. Surely not the walk of shame. Couldn’t she simply have knocked on the door and had her parents open it? I don’t get it.