






This rollerskate-clad lady doesn’t seem too shy with the slick-haired fellow at a rink in Southside, Chicago, Illinois in April 1941. Looks like there’s a good chance they’ll “find us a new recipe,” in the words of Ol’ Hank. Not sure what to do with that onlooking third wheel, though…



Today we pay homage to the costumes of Old Sweden. The ladies above were from Rättvik, a Swedish lakeside locality adjacent to a bunch of words that sound like the Swedish Chef said them. They were waiting for a “conveyance” to take them back home. Who says that anymore? Probably not even the people of Sweden at this point.
Next, we see another three dolls, Dals to be precise, in Boda, a locality situated in Rättvik Municipality. Already, you can notice the Swedes liked red horizontal stripes, which flatter almost none of us.

They were also fans of hats, as you can see in this next pic of a native of Södermanland, the duchy of then-Prince William. No, not that William. And no, not douchey, but duchy, which is a territory of a duke or duchess, or a dukedom. But not a dumb duke.

Speaking of fetching hats, this next trio sported three different variations. Mora’s hat, on the left, was “staidly Puritan.” Mora is a place, not her name. The middle girl, from Rättvik, wore a peaked cap with red stitching, perched atop the back of her head. The Leksand girl on the right wore a white cap only if she was married, and red if not.

Not to be outdone, men also sported old costumes and winter sleeping caps.
This bloke from Hälsingland is wearing something that reminds me of Rip Van Winkle. The quote below him says,
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
Frosty, but kindly.
– William Shakespeare
Children were not immune from donning gay apparel as well, while the women of Lake Siljan held tools.

As you can see, they could not get enough red stripes.
Rare were the outfits that strayed from the norm. But always, the head was covered.
Two maids stood in the doorway of an old farmhouse at Leksand, one hopeful and one bitter.

In modern-day Leksand, natives still sport traditional folk costumes as a nod to their past. Way to keep the history alive, ladies!


The stuff of nightmares. A workman wearing a newspaper hat and his pal chill at the steps of the Palazzo Zuccari, a 16th century building in Rome. It houses the Bibliotheca Hertziana – Max Planck Institute for Art History, a German research institute that isn’t even in Germany.
Evidently, newspaper hats were a thing. They would be great in central Texas because we have no wind and no rain, so they would never blow away. And if your phone ran out of juice, you could just grab your hat and read Garfield.

As you can see, the ghastly ghoul door remains nearly unchanged after 82 years, right down to the steps. With no visible door handle, I wonder how one enters.




In 1935, Italy invaded Ethiopia, tipping off the Second Italo-Ethiopian War. To bolster gold reserves, the Italian government, under Mussolini, made a plea to its citizens to exchange all of their wedding rings and jewelry and even false teeth for these stacks of iron bands. Fascist officers in Rome supervised the exchange.
But what’s crazier than that is that Italian-Americans helped with the effort as well. Per shoeleatherhistoryproject.com, Mussolini proponent Father Andrew J. Kelly, pastor of St. Anthony’s Church in Hartford’s Italian east end in Connecticut, convinced 500 Hartford women to give up their gold bands at a blessing ceremony on Sunday, May 24, 1936. “The substitution of iron for gold wedding rings by Italian wives,” the priest said, “symbolizes… the unanimity of Italian sentiment in favor of its government.”


While it will remain 103 degrees in central Texas well nigh into October, the rest of y’all will soon be enjoying autumn weather. If your neighborhood pool remains open (as our does here, though never would we ever stick a pinky toe into it), I suggest you soak up the last bit of sun, carpe diem, and do not go gently into that good fall by taking advantage of the sun’s warm rays with a friendly game of Mah Jongg. Why sit in the shade of a cozy house at a card table with cocktails and salted cashews when you could stand in a public pee pavilion, trying desperately not to let the Chinese tiles fall into the water, yelling at nearby kids to leave you be, constantly looking over your shoulder to make sure you’re not in the path of an errant cannonball? These ladies at Wardman Park Pool, Washington seem absolutely ensconced.



Ah, 1965. Overhead projectors and horn-rimmed (NOT “horn rim”) glasses graced every classroom. And even then, the rims were not made of actual horn or tortoiseshell, but of plastic. All the better to see you with, my dear.
Some technology was old-school, like this microscope being used by a lad with a healthy head of Elvisian locks.

But new advancements had been made for this first year of German language lab. Bonus points if you can tell me what all those little chess-piece-looking things are.

Corded phones were still the only choice for office secretaries.


And there was this thing for numbers. Watch those bangs, sister.

Home Ec was called “industrial arts” at this particular high school.

While what we term regular “art” was still funded and practiced. Swell job, Peg!

Shop was called “Distributive Education.”

This was called “horseplay” and not cause for litigation.

Flirting was alive and well.

And teen silliness prevailed at the Junior-Senior Dance. What a lovely pair!

Now if I could only remember my locker combination…
