Ooh, la la, ladies! Somebody just upped the charm bracelet game! Look how beautifully it lays (or is it lies?) against the skin. What’s not a lie is how it will subliminally encourage you to eat protein each time it scrapes against the keyboard as you type.
It compliments any outfit you have in shades of peanut shell or Baptist red brick. It’s nutty, all right.
During this time of Easter and resurrection, it’s important to remember that Mr. Peanut did NOT in fact die for good, but was (as the Super Bowl commercial revealed) reborn by the tears of the Kool-Aid Man (oh, yeah!) in a much less spiritual or legitimate manner.
As my husband testified on stage in church last Sunday, we are cheap, cheap, cheap. I haven’t purchased a book at retail price in over a decade, maybe two. Everything I read is from Half-Price Books, and only the clearance section, from $1 to $3. That is how I came upon this:
This blue book from 1954 has been sitting on my shelf for a few years now, waiting for the perfect moment that never comes. I don’t know why I thought this topic would have interested me in the least; I’m certainly not ever going to READ it. Perhaps I thought it would have cool pictures.
It did.
Like this pseudo-Scarlet getting into crinolines in 1865.
London Stereoscopic Co.
I’ve always felt I was born too late, but this picture makes me glad I was born post-antebellum. You couldn’t even hold hands with an orangutan, much less a suitor, in that dress.
The author contends that the Victorian age ended in 1914, but all of these images were taken much earlier than that. Below is the building of “The Great Eastern,” which seems as though it’s lacking a noun, launched on 1/31/1858.
Very Victorian, no? Jackets and ties and Abe Lincoln hats, although this is a proper British book.
With proper tea-time being had.
1850
And proper use of the sewing machine. The dress seems a bit much for such labor.
Lo and behold, lodged between the pages, I stumbled upon a receipt from 1955, a year after it was published. I found it ironic that Professor Wolff ponied up $3.64, whilst I, 65 years later, ponied up only $3.24.
Am I being cheeky, like this 1890 can-can Parisian dancer?
Perhaps I should motor on.
J.A. Koosen and H.J. Lawson in a Lutzmann, 1895
This last image is from 1860, entitled “Romance on a Stile.” FYI, a stile is an arrangement of steps that allows people to climb over a fence or wall. I don’t see that being done here. I can almost hear her saying, “No, no, Nanette,” or “No, no, Nigel,” as it were. The only British stile I’m aware of is singer Harry Styles, but that’s a horse of a different color.
And in Victorian times, there was no color. At least not in the photos.
Maria was a friend of Lavelle, owner of this yearbook, and fellow participant in Spanish Lab, where Maria is shown assessing a skirt below.
Evidently Lavelle’s classmates took their language skills seriously. Babs even included it in her yearbook greeting.
Stoddard Hall was where the senior girls lived; this was at Texas State College for Women, so there were no men. However, the next entry contradicts the prior, assuming she would indeed move to Stoddard.
I do hope they were able to meet up 50 years later, and party like it was 1999, as it would have been.
This final entry confirms that Lavelle did indeed intend to live in Stoddard, that she was a grand cooker of eggs, and a good listener as Phyllis “Phil-eyes” droned on incessantly about Jimmy. Muy bueno!
Perusing the pages of ancient yearbooks, I have seen many a Sadie Hawkins dance. But this 1946 event from North Texas State University takes the cake! What an eye for detail these kids had.
I Don't Get It 