In my newer model sensible Camry, I have two inches clearance between my scalp and the roof. I doubt I could have comfortably driven this sedan with my higher volume 80s hair. But this? This is (quite lit’rally) above and beyond.
This hair style was MADE for buses. Buses offer plenty of room for trendy gals to nod and shake their heads. It’s a good thing no one went jogging back then, because these bouffants would have never fit beneath a ball cap.
Now check out this Sputnik style. How would you travel with this thing? By rocket ship?
You guys, I don’t usually share images as recent as only 30-something years old, which I’m guessing this is, but we need to talk about this.
Discounting the obvious crimes of hair and use of cigarettes (and LENGTH of cigarettes; you’ve come a long, long, LONG way, baby), and plaid vest that somehow makes her more street than lumberjack, or even simply the use of THIS as their Christmas card, what bothers me most is those blinds. I remember those blinds in my first years of apartment dwelling. The way they never moved in synchronicity like Venetian blinds or their superior window cousin, plantation shutters. Just try and pull them to the side. You can already hear the swishing and slamming of cheap plastic blind crashing into cheap plastic blind. Erratic! Random!
And oh, what fun to dust them! And even better, what their very existence oft implied, which was sliding glass doors. Who doesn’t love the sliding glass door? You know, the one that only slides seamlessly for a month before catching and stuttering. Or it does that diagonal thing, where it gets off its rollers. Yes, the very same sliding glass door that a criminal attempted to break into in my townhome in the early 90s, when everyone used that same broken broom handle to shove in between the doors as a perfect deterrent. It was only good fortune that my angry queen of a roommate drew said blinds back and showed his horrified face to the thief that saved us. Damn sliding door. Damn blinds. What did they think they would get? A glass coffee table full of Madonna magazines and a TV with an enormous antenna? Hmph.
With a West Texas State University sticker on the window, students Becky, Judy, and Nancy load up the convertible to enjoy the spring of ’69, cruising the beat sans seatbelts, keeping it under 20mph, for fear that the wind may untease their fancy coifs.
During WWII, hats were frowned upon as an indulgence in the UK, and many woman (not daring to go in public uncovered), found that necessity was indeed the mother of invention. These British women fashioned turbans out of headscarves, which not only protected their hair while working, but also added that little pizzazz needed during an era of drudgery.
Sister, if you couldn’t get a man to notice you with this thing on your noggin, it was time to abandon hope.
Among all the assessment was another “ass,” Bulgarian artist Assen Peikov, who was contracted to sculpt the actress’s face for a scene in her upcoming movie, The Barefoot Contessa (not to be confused with the Food Network chef). Wonder who got to keep the bust when the movie ended?
Actually, it wasn’t Revlon; it was Cutex, a name we associate today strictly with nails, not lips. But back in the day, they offered coordinated colors for style from head to toe! Step off, Satan! I’m fabulous!
Miss Lesley E. Bogert strides with purpose through a parking lot of curvaceous vehicles, off to cavort among fellow Newport socialites of the 1930s. Her father, Beverley Bogert, was a prominent New York banker.
This article from the April 14, 1935 Daily News gives the deets on her relationship with Russia’s Prince George. Note how she is described as “apple-cheeked, plump and roly-poly,” which seems inconsistent with the image above.
By the way, “caracul” is an Asian sheep with a dark curled fleece when young. You know, like most of us wear.
This gal throws much attitude, but I honestly can’t tell if she’s 13 or 23. Huge Jackie O sunglasses, permed bob, lip gloss, tight waist. Love it! While her shirt cuffs are reminiscent of my own tees in 1985, this was actually September of 1975, exactly 45 years ago. That was the year emissions testing on the exhaust analyzer went into effect, and she was watching her go through testing at an inspection station in Cincinnati, Ohio.
What I don’t get is the possessive S after banana. Is the world going bananas? Sure, that’s solid. But banana’s? Certainly it doesn’t own her. She looks like the boss of herself.