‘Tis an odd image indeed, of young women in the 1890s, taking part at “a drinking bee” in White Chapel, Dawson, Alaska–a base during the 19th-century Klondike Gold Rush. I can’t say that I understand the canine/wine connection, but I’m certain that it was before this label existed.
Or this one.
But evidently, some dogs do like their ale.
Preston Tucker, owner of the Tucker Corp, tries to prove to investors that a car can be manufactured with engines in the rear.
This photo was published exactly four days after the company ceased operations of the Tucker 48. Only 51 cars were ever produced. Among other negative publicity, top newspaper columnist Drew Pearson reported that the car was a fraud because it could not go backward and it went “goose-geese” going down the road.
But what horsepower!
We’ve all had them. Even those currently without hair remember them. After an hour-long struggle with product and appliance, you give up and shove a hat atop your noggin. But there are other options. Like lace helmets.
Oh, sure, they’re hard to come by, although I contend that you could sew two of Granny’s doilies together for a similar effect. These three Netherlands maidens seem satisfied with theirs, which are actually thin-beaten silver or gold covered with lace. Sounds hot if under direct sunlight. And wouldn’t jealous others come snatch them off your head to sell on the black market? Perhaps lace helmets aren’t the best option.
Moving on.
Granted, this next low-ventilation choice doesn’t look particularly comfortable, but if you were a woman in Kabul, Afghanistan in 1968, you might have donned a traditional chadri like this woman. Birdcage optional. Nobody would ever know it was you, much less what your hair looked like.
Want to creep out all your friends and neighbors? It’s better than showing them split ends or uneven bangs, my friends. Take a page out of these Achill Island, Ireland residents’ handbook and stick a broom on your face.
Descendants of the “Straw Boys” who terrorized Ireland in days of yore, these two shared their fearsome disguises for the photographer. Straw is a neutral, so it goes with everything. But mercy, it is itchy!
Perhaps the best idea (and the most colorful) for those of the XX persuasion (although I can absolutely see Nick Cannon trading in his Sikh turban for this) are these Ivory Coast headwraps–and perhaps the sunglasses as well. They certainly seem happy.
Those of you alive during the summers of the 1980s might recall how high-cut swimsuits were, with fabric barely meeting at the hipbone. These two young ladies seem to be enjoying the golden hour of a Rhode Island summer’s eve. Props for the two-tier gold necklace. Did she wear that into the water?
Pictured above are the Austin High School 1933 Girl Reserves. I wasn’t clear what exactly “girl reserves” were (what came to mind was not pleasant), so I searched for clarity. According to the yearbook, their “aim” was to “find and give the best.” Their flower is listed as the “phlox” and their colors as “blue and white.” Seems like a lot of wasted information to me. Perhaps they were reserving the truth?
Below is the group of Sodalitas Latina. Motto: Esse quam videri. I am guessing the boys up front are freshmen, as they hardly look a day older than 14.
Along with the German Club, the Motion Picture Club (motion pictures being about the same age as the teachers), and TWO Nature Science Clubs, there was also this Golden R Readers Club, with one happy boy and several angry girls. Ralph appears to be mid-prank.
Not to be outdone by R’s, I present the Order of the Golden A, comprised of those who have achieved non-athletic interscholastic victory.
This one is a hoot. The front row middle girl is being held hostage by the iron fists of the Dead Center. Then we have Messy Martha, second from the left, who is not only scowling through lenses, but clutching her handbag protectively. Further to the right is that amazing three button dress.
Lastly, I share the Austin High Student Council–in two pieces, so you can really climb in there and check them out. Those pockets! That ruffle! What kind of Depression was this?
This shot is really just to appreciate Angry Eyebrows and Odd-Stance McCrary there, both in the front row (or as they called it, the FIFTH row, since the Top Row was in the back and there was no Front Row). If one thing is certain, it’s that those two aren’t dating.
The evil big-box stores have already stocked their aisles with back-to-school items, an affront to all American children, trying their durndest to enjoy the apex of global warming seasons. As a parent of a teen, my days of purchasing Elmer’s Glue and huffing markers and dull scissors are over, but we’re still expected to pony up for supplies. Evidently, $7000 in property taxes on a mighty modest home does not cover Kleenex.
To all this mid-summer school rigmarole, I at least ask the makers of supplies to look backwards for inspiration, and not to the future. This ad makes education positively dreamy.
Let’s not forget that Donny nor David would give you the time of day if you weren’t svelte. Lace stockings look gauche on thicc (yes, thicc) thighs.
But what if you’re too thin, and you need to bulk up? Simply sport a Hugh Downs jacket!
Hugh Downs was a once-relevant broadcaster who is still kicking it at 97. Look how attractive his family is, wearing bulky red-orange. And who’s the lady fondling his son’s hood? Go back to Paris, Simone.
Maybe you’re too young and hip to wear anything from an old fuddy-duddy and his family. Maybe you’re avant garde like Pat Boone, who lives life on the cutting edge.
Dressing like Pat Boone ensures that girls think you are a liberal arts professor. And maybe they’re into that kind of thing. Remember, remember, you’re mine… Wow, he really did wear white shoes.
Speaking of white, perhaps you missed my earlier post on putting more sugar in Lisa. Here’s another misguided Sugar Information ad, advising moms to put more sugar in their teens, so they can become slovenly-dressed sugar-swinging freaks–just in time for back to school!
Turtles don’t need seat belts, y’all. They just don’t.
You KNOW it gyrates. It’s Gyrafoam.
Today, we take up where yesterday we left off. Smack dab in the middle of 1925, when women had no social media and were slaves to their chores.
But they had options! Another washing machine was this one from Laun-Dry-Ette.
Ain’t nobody got time for bluing, especially when there are floors to clean with Fuller Brushes.
And when you’re done brushing, you can sit on your can like Iris. Here she is, hitting up her best friend on the line, but she does it in style. The ad may be for Sellers Kitchen Cabinets, but all I see is a fab-u-lous crescent moon hat and a bold lip.
Oreos were introduced in 1912, but evidently some folks chose to put health biscuits in their pie holes instead. I’m sure they were a HIT at a kid’s birthday party.
Tommy seems to be trying to drown out the voices in his head, or the loud protests against health biscuits. Please, God, not health biscuits!
Somebody get Iris on the phone. It’s an emergency!
In the same magazine, you’ll find lovely Dix-Make dresses. No one makes dresses like Dix-Make.
If you’re not in the market for a flat-chested flapper dress, perchance you might like golden circlets of tropical goodness.
And try it on pizza, too!
Sick of cold water? Want hot water every place you can think of? Ask for Descriptive Folder #10.
And how about this? For the cost of my current water bill plus my cable bill, I could have bought an entire house in 1925.
But, Kerbey, you say–I’m not a baller; I’m too poor to pay attention. What could I afford? And to you, I say, how ’bout some clothesline?
It’s a cord to hang your sheets. It’s great until it rains, and then you have to hang it out to dry all over again. I remember because I had to do it in the 80s when all our neighbors had dryers, and my chore was to hang clothes on the line like I was a freaking pioneer. Thankfully, it only rains twice a year in Texas, so it’s not an issue now.
Come back on Hump Day for more fun ads from 1925!
FINALLY! Something I could actually put on my head without compromising my cervical spine. Minus the squatting, though. I don’t many Americans who squat outside the gym.
I Don't Get It 