When you think of Miami, you probably think of Miami, Florida. I do. Or the Will Smith song that speaks of the coastal city. You probably don’t think of Miami University in Ohio, of all places, where this picture was taken in 1949. Here is a portrait of dorm life–before cell phones, before TV, before rock ‘n’ roll–where women could look attractive in penny loafers and saddle oxfords instead of 5″ stiletto stripper heels.
I’d never even heard of Miami University, the 10th oldest public university in the United States. The university, which offered classes in 1824, existed long before Miami, Florida was incorporated as a city in 1896. And that’s one to grow on!
It means you just learned something.
These fellas seem to be enjoying campus life as well. They didn’t need no stinkin’ Blu-Ray or mobile apps to be content. Just a book and a lamp and some swanky robes.
At the time, the mascot was the Miami Redskins, but a politically correct climate necessitated a change to the Miami Redhawks. Lame.
Back then, it was also cool to smoke, especially while sunbathing–or turning your skin red. Yes, I said it.
Nowadays, it’s inadvisable to start a family while in college. And who could afford it under this administration anyway? But in the post-war years, students were often married and raising families. And evidently living in ramshackle cabooses with picket fences built by unskilled laborers.
This next gathering is a group of gals in the “Outing Group.” It’s not what you think; they went on picnics and hikes together over frostbitten leaves. And apparently, they were keen on swastikas as well.
Perhaps after a long day of hiking and antisemitic rallies, the girls would hit the town. ( To be fair, swastikas meant “it is good” for years before the Nazi party used it. Let’s take it back, people!). Downtown Oxford, Ohio offered up restaurants as well as a movie theater.
The Miami-Western Theatre (oooh, the British spelling!) prided itself on being the only diversion in a “rather dull town.”
No worries if you spilled soda pop or melted Junior Mints on your glad rags at the cinema; you could just take them on down to Redskin Cleaners.
I like the vagueness of the token foreigner’s words, “my country” because that could mean anything. Perhaps he is a successful businessman, since he is well-dressed and has access to slick hair creams. I like his grand gesture as well. It’s like he’s welcoming Barbara Bush to Fantasy Island.
Perhaps some of you are programmed to be on the lookout for racism, so you can’t possibly enjoy this. Let’s find an opportunity to be offended; won’t that be fun? But break down his words; there isn’t anything pejorative there. He’s not represented in a demeaning way. He’s not dressed in rags or carrying a water vessel on his head–or a towel–or a sombrero. He’s simply declaring that all countries can appreciate the merits of Convair. And if it still existed, perhaps I could, too.
There’s no denying the magical combination of camel and flare red, and no better time to cover your body with it than fall. Autumn. November. And that’s NOW. So go get your camel and flare red on!
The youth of today love Taylor Swift, and even she proclaims, “Loving him was red.” Look at those models and how interested they are in that gawky adolescent boy, holding a strawberry malted. Loving him is undeniably red.
Nevermind that she’s still in character as Daisy Duke in those ratty shorts that are binding up at her crotch, and please overlook the shoulder-padded jacket she stole from Melanie Griffith in Working Girl. The point is the BAG. The neutral and the POP of color.
But let’s not get distracted. It’s not the Hump Day Camel.
For people of my generation, Bob Denver will forever be Gilligan, the Skipper’s “Little Buddy.” But to my parents’ generation, Bob Denver remains Maynard G. Krebs from The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis (also known as simply Dobie Gillis ), a sitcom that aired from 1959 to 1963. Maynard was TV’s first beatnikand jive-talking bongo player, and wannabe hepcats thought he was cool. Even Montgomery Ward took notice and offered trim tapered cotton ivy shirts for those in the know.
In case you missed it, here’s a close-up:
So it wasn’t Moon Zappa or Valley Girls who coined “like” after all. Mainstream American catalogs were doing it way back in 1962. They even used Maynard’s bongo-playing likeness to sell their combed cotton eversheen coats.
Facial hair? What the what? And check out these bobble heads. I wonder what they’d be worth today, American Pickers? Antiques Road Show? Pawn Stars? Anyone?
In case you’ve never seen Maynard in action, here’s a clip of him, showing his classmates the first portable music player, so he can listen to smooth jazz.
You all know my beef with wearing pajamas in public: NOT ACCEPTABLE. Not to the mailbox, not to walk your kids to the bus stop, not even to put your trash out on trash day. No, sir, we don’t do that. And that goes for slippers, too.
Not in the ghetto, not in the store, not in the driveway, do it no more.
Seriously, big fella? Did you think we wouldn’t notice?
And just because you are at Wal-Mart does not give a grown-ass woman free reign to wear onesies, especially with a faux designer bag.
Footsies! Really?
The only way this would EVER be acceptable is if you ran out of your burning house in the middle of the night, and ran straight to Wal-Mart to purchase bonafide normal clothes, appropriate for all to see, and you had the PRESENCE OF MIND to change into said new clothes in their rank restrooms before actually exiting the building.
The only other alternative I can see is to time travel back to 1962 and purchase any sleepwear from Montgomery Ward because I have thumbed through that ’62 Fall & Winter catalogue, and let me tell you–the pj’s are nicer than today’s styles.
Yes, these were sold as pajamas–cotton flannelettes, to be exact. Why, look at how gay and merry these ladies look! One’s got a telescope. That’s science!
And don’t be fooled into thinking you can’t look hip and trendy in these modest choices. These were made for sleeping, not twerking, but there’s nothing “square” about a shift gown. It says so right in the ad!
Before viewing this ad, I didn’t even realize I NEEDED a bonnet to accessorize my sleepwear. See how it helps her with those fancy yoga moves?
And let’s don’t forget the fellas. Why wear a wifebeater and pajama bottoms with the name of the university that you only attended for one semester twenty years ago when you could wear this?
Go ahead; bring your pipe. What’s not to love with so many colors and prints? This guy is right on time.
And hey, so what if you’ve packed on some pounds after turning 40? Hide that flabby belly underneath one of these swank terry robes, also in TALL and STOUT. That means 170 lbs in 1962.
And let’s not forget the kids. These pajama sets are publicly presentable.
Makes me want to take a trip to Dream Town myself! Those ski pajamas could go from bed to elementary school in no time. Why change at all when it’s so fashion forward? But leave the sleepers at home, kids. Those plastic soles won’t cut it on today’s asphalt parking lots.
Seriously, don’t Betty, Tommy, Sarah, and Mike look smart? Nothing outdated about these Easter eggshell pastels. I suddenly want to eat some Jordan Almonds. Hey, let’s get in the station wagon and get some at Wal-mart. But first, let me make sure I’ve got my 1962 pajama set on. I don’t want to look like I’ve given up on every dream I ever had or lost every last shred of dignity.
I came across this photo of Miss Catalina Lozano in a 1967 yearbook for the Schreiner Institute. I had to do a double-take, as she looks eerily like the daughter of Theresa Caputo, the Long Island Medium.
At the time the yearbook portrait was taken, Theresa Caputo had yet to be born. But I’d venture to say Catalina looks more like Victoria than Theresa herself.
Same flowing brunette locks, same Cocker Spaniel brown eyes, same nose, same lips…Victoria plus 1960s eyeliner equals Miss Chihuahua 1967. That’s all there is to it.
Oh, sweetheart, what can be done about this? Even Jazz Hands, overdone blush, a Mardi Gras Reynolds Wrap sash, and a Newton-John headband cannot distract from what’s at hand here. Bless your heart.
And this one could have been easily prevented with a razor. Can this even be real?
Burt Reynolds ain’t got nothin’ on me.
Usually pleated pants are the worst part of a photo op, but not in this case:
At least his trousers aren’t VINYL. What is up with that? Even the cat is struggling to break free from that anemic woman’s wardrobe choices. I’d rather don a cat collar than whatever that is around her neck. And who chose that poor man’s Big Bang background? It’s like a swirling cosmic soup where galaxies collide at the corner of Where Is His Belt and Please Button Your Cuffs. And let’s not forget the photographer, complicit in this atrocity, who allowed the female to wear her hair tucked behind those ears. What the what? I sure hope that kitty Rockette-highkicked its way out of that couple’s life.
So I’m watching–yes–another episode of the FINAL (gasp!) season of What Not To Wear, while wearing a crazy cute floral skirt and blouse myself, feeling confident and yet saddened by the former Jennifer Keaton of Family Ties fame, played by Miss Tina Yothers. First off, I can easily get past her substantial weight gain; we all get old and puffy (even Renee Zellweger at times). But I cannot get past her black Goth hair. Right now, she is telling Ted, the stylist, “Once you go black…” But, in this case, that is untrue. I had black hair when I was 17 years old, but I’m not 17 anymore. You CAN go back. I realize this is a free country, and I realize this is also a rerun, so I should have gotten over it by now, but I simply cannot. There is freedom, and then there is sanity. Freedom of fashion choice does not exclude one from the NEED to dress age-appropriately. Or wear age-appropriate hair. You might look pretty cute in pigtails or a Crissy Snow side-pony, but you wouldn’t go in public like that over the age of 12.
There are only four reasons to have black hair if you are a porcelain-skinned white girl like Miss Tina:
1) You were born with it.
2) You are Katy Perry (herself a natural blonde who will probably grow it back out once she matures).
3) You are Veronica from Archie comics.
4) You are Snow White.
Now back to Tina. For one thing, she says she hasn’t tried clothes on in a dressing room in “like five or six years.” WTH? Do you know many how styles have come and gone in six years? You think six years isn’t much? Think about your cell phone six years ago. Think about your laptop and your old beige monitor. Having kids is not an excuse for giving up. Don’t be that woman in pajamas at Wal-Mart. You are better than that. It’s not about being trendy or even about vanity; it’s about being the best version of yourself.
Tina, like another guest named Teresa (“T”) whom they tackled on Season 8, has a fear of wearing dresses. I DO NOT GET THIS!! Admittedly, T had some serious issues she needed to work through, regarding mandatory Catholic school uniforms or something like that, so now T is rebelling (too old to rebel) against society and now nobody tells T to put a dress on. In fact, T often gets mistaken for a male. She wears men’s clothing, wifebeaters, and Crocs. I wonder if she goes by “T” because the name “Teresa” is not masculine enough? All I know is T has a winning smile and lots of potential. Rejoice in what you are: a woman. And cute, too boot! You don’t have to prance around like Shania Twain, declaring, “Man, I feel like a woman!” But sweet Mary and Joseph, I think feminists go so far trying to be the Anti-Barbie that they might as well grow their armpit hair out and wear a cup. You can sit in the middle of the see saw, sweetie. You don’t have to soar to the end of the spectrum. T even admitted at the end of the show, “This process has shown me you can be powerful and still be soft.” What what?
And, yes, I understand that Jane Lynch and Ellen Degeneres are never going to be out buying A-line skirts and flouncy dresses, but why is this a hurdle for straight women? If you enjoy your femininity, why do you abhor dresses? Do you feel objectified or sexualized? Dresses are actually pretty freeing, and your thighs stay well-ventilated. Shallow or not, most women want to feel attractive. They want to have a good hair day more than they would EVER want world peace, and they want their lashes to look full and not to have raccoon circles under their eyes. You can talk a good game upside down about how you want equal pay for equal work, but you know a good support bra and panties that don’t ride up rank right up there, too. Keep this mantra in mind: It’s nearing the end of the show, and Tina is wearing a coral dress and a black blazer. She just said, “I feel like a woman…It’s beautiful, and I love it!” Yes! Victory! One week under the tutelage of Clint and Stacey, and her broken brain got unbroken. They fixed it, reprogrammed it to the default setting, which is XX chromosomes=embrace your womanhood. Look, it’s 2013. We’re not cattle rustlers in the Old West, forced to wear long, hot skirts in the heat and dust. You shouldn’t have to ride sidesaddle in a skirt. I get that. You should have the right to throw some trousers and chaps on.
But guess what? We can vote now, so go ahead and wear your clamdiggers and your slimming jeans and even your yoga pants with the holes in the crotch. But don’t walk into a clothing store, having already written off half the inventory. Rock a dress or skirt every now and again. There is a balance between Amish and skank. Find it. And BTW, it’s soooo much quicker to pee if you’re in a dress. Just lift and go.
Now Tina is looking in the mirror, giddy, saying, “I can’t believe I’m wearing a scarf.” There you go–she not only conquered the dress obstacle, but cruised right on into accessorizing. And that black hair might just be growing on me… Either way, It’s a new and improved Tina. You go, girl.
However, Blinda’s Leaning Tower of Pisa is probably closer in proximity to The Pope. She’s certainly giving Deb a run for her money.
1967 Tipi
Teasing was involved on both of these Mary(s), and it appears as though a hairpiece or extension was haphazardly lobbed at their heads, with no regard for rhyme nor reason.
1967 Tipi
Donnita’s lithe neck can barely support the combined weight of coif and hardened Aqua Net. Any minute now, it could snap like a twig.
1967 Tipi
I don’t know what to say about Kathy. All I know is she’s in this yearbook twice. Same name, same pic, so it’s no misprint, people. Kathy with a K. Moving on…
1967 Tipi Bless her heart.
From the saucy smirks of the Nix Twins to Dennis’s kind eyes (which seem more 48 than 18 years old), to the barrel of whiskey hidden beneath the teased bleached locks of Regina, this pic does not disappoint.
1967 Tipi
I hate it when people say they gave 110% effort, because there is no such thing as more than the absolute total that exists. Having said that, Linda gave 110%. Have you ever seen a waterfall after a hard freeze?
But Travis. Sigh. Travis Isom, Travis Eyesore, old boy–what were you thinking with that unibrow? Read the page; Seniors Try Harder! You should try harder with some tweezers. Or a razor. This is unacceptable, Travis. Shame on you. Why couldn’t you have copied the simple brows of J.C. and Mike (who BTW, look pretty retro 50s greaser for a 1967 yearbook, if you ask me)?
1967 Tipi
And the winner of the most interesting hairdo is…Beverly’s ratty flattened mess, complimented by insanely dark arched caterpillar brows! You can bet David wouldn’t touch her with a ten foot pole! She smells like cigarettes and Binaca breath spray, and that scares the pee out of him. Does someone have a ladder so we can climb up there and crown her?
And just watch how excited the crowds look this Saturday morning! How about that Christmas sweater smack dab in the middle?
How could they possibly lose with these guys on their team?
Let’s don’t forget about the ladies, getting their lacrosse on.
But some prefer to stay indoors and bowl in the air conditioned bowl-o-rama.
And certainly don’t mess with the gals on the archery team. They’ll shoot your eye out.
I Don't Get It 