During the Roaring 20s (as opposed to this current 20s, whose moniker remains to be seen, but I vote for Recovering) flying circuses and wing walkers were all the rage. I find it curious that they simply couldn’t paint in smaller font and thereby include all of the letters in TRANSPORT, but no matter. Although, technically, it could abbreviate TRANSPLANT as well. I would not volunteer for an aerial transplant.
Most of us don’t immediately associate beaches with the city of Cleveland. In fact, I am so full of ignorance about the city, that other than it existing inside of Ohio, I only know that Drew Carey was born there. I also know he was a Marine, and that his middle name is Allison, so that shows how much MORE I know about Drew than his birthplace. So if you’re like me, you will be gobsmacked to learn that they put some sand along the edge of Lake Erie and called it a beach. No sharks? No salt water to sting your eyes? Sounds nifty!
I hear they have freshwater jellyfish, however, but not big enough to give you a painful sting that lasts for two weeks with shooting bolts of pain down your leg, like the fun Gulf of Mexico offers. Cleveland’s Edgewater Beach website says one can enjoy 2400 feet of beach and 1000 feet of swimming access. Let’s go! Any readers done some swimming this summer, either alone or completely disobeying all the laws and engaging with friends and family? I surely have not.
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.
In every yearbook of a certain vintage, several pages are devoted to beauty queens and runner-ups, “bluebells” to “sponsors” for men’s organizations. Today we feature not merely the campus beauties of Georgia Tech way back in 1947, but the ones with interesting names. Let’s start the ball rolling with Miss Elizabeth Cottongim!
Nope, it’s not the Eli Whitney cotton gin; it’s gim, which is neither alcohol nor an engine. And evidently the name is still going strong in Georgia, where Cottongim Services addresses all your heating and cooling needs.
Next up is a name I bet you’ve never heard, and probably can’t pronounce. It’s Miss Ygondine Walker! And as you can see by the cropped page, she was a SPON-sor. Extra credit for getting nominated by Mr. Pettyjohn, though I’d rather hear a Pettytom.
Next in line is typical for the era; when a woman married, she lost her own name entirely and became the Mrs. to her husband. So in this case, it’s Mrs. J.O. Paine. I feel your paine, honey. And check out that hair crown!
As we continue on down our list, we showcase Helen Quattlebaum. Evidently famous Quattlebaums existed, such as Cephas and Corey Bear. I guess she also knew a fellow named John Kennedy? Is she even wearing a dress?
And last but not least, let’s sound the chorus for Doris Boris! She might have done well to marry soon after and shed that rhyming surname.
Well, that’s it for today, folks! Enjoy your quarantine! And the next time that you meet an Ygondine or answer yet another Eli Whitney trivia question, think of me and how I just don’t get it.
1920 is most remembered as the year women got the vote, and perhaps these very women DID vote that year. However, this was a day of leisure, a pleasant afternoon of watching boats shuttle visitors to and from the San Jacinto battlegrounds in Houston. Most Texans know the battle happened in 1836, the year Texas won its independence from Mexico, in a fight that lasted 18 minutes and wound up with Santa Anna getting his boo-tay handed to him by Sam Houston.
And while this image seems so very long ago, and none of us was alive, let’s remember that John McCain’s mom was already EIGHT years old when this photo was taken, tackling third grade and cursive. Just throwing that out there for some perspective. And she’s STILL alive.
It’s 1911 in Antartica, and British engineer Bernard C. Day returns to base camp after driving one of the first motor sledges used in Polar exploration, during the South Polar Expedition aka the Terra Nova Expedition aka the British Antarctic Expedition led by Robert Falcon Scott (photo by Herbert G. Ponting from Then & Now). While Scott perished the following year, trying to be the first to reach the South Pole, Day lived till 1934.
What do you think? Hat or no hat?
You know how magazines have those sections where they stuff all the cheapo ads together, and you wonder if anyone ever grabs a magnifying glass to read their teensy font? Well, today we’re checking out those ads.
These all come from April of ’54, and you can see that hippity hoppity, Easter was on its way. Seriously, that’s a weird car, right?
Anacin has been around longer than anyone reading this page, and you can still get it. She sure looks glad that she did.
Some ads are so tiny, you wonder what was the point. And was it really necessary to spell kiwi phonetically?
Vernell sounds like that great-aunt who lost her husband 30 years ago and wouldn’t think of remarrying, but she’s a really good cook and could definitely score a spouse if she would just move on with her life.
This next one is so fun with our friendly Nirc making his debut on this blog. Not to be confused with Narc, this little guy is concerned with the cleanliness of your rugs. They needed a mascot for that?
And speaking of weird acronyms, this next ad is for NCB, accepted from pole to pole. So odd!
We’ll wrap up with something none of us ever thinks about, fine driving lights. I knew cars were usually feminized, but I didn’t know headlights were as well. Now that I type that, it makes sense. Do you ask your husband to run to Auto Zone and grab a couple Lorraines?
Does Lorraine make you think of quiche or Newman?
Must … wear … Laconian Debs.
Y’all, it is rare indeed when a Google search turns up with zilch, nada. But such is the case for Laconian Debs. I guess they only existed for this one moment in my 1947 Seventeen magazine, which evidently could hardly contain their foot fetish. Apparently, those weren’t the only Debs around. Polly Debs were climbing up the charts.
I just don’t get this. These are NOT super flat. They have at least a one inch heel. And what a metaphor! Is a Coke comfy? That’s an odd word choice. You’ll love them like Mink? What? Are we talking about fur now? I’m so confused. But it’s good to know they’re live. All shoes should be live. Shouldn’t they?
Let’s move on to Kickerinos. That’s just fun to say, like Vinnie Barbarino. Anything -ino. It must be eye-talian!
Next up are the musical Monomacs, in either elk or Bucko Calf. Bucko Calf? There’s another thing Google’s never heard of. What a banner day!
I don’t know what music has to do with moccasins, or why tiny elves are handstitching the seams, but there you go. Now on to something south of the border!
Finally, something I’ve heard of. Huarache sandals, too …. A bushy, bushy blond hairdo … Surfin’ USA. ♫♪♫ Calf skin? I’m familiar with it. I get it. Wait, they come with foot shortening vamp? What the heck is that?
Who knew shoes could be so complicated?
Before a cutter was a person who took a knife to their skin just to “feel something” in a world of apathy, Cutters were shoes worn to catch men’s eyes. Maybe he’s not a breast or a thigh man; maybe he’s more interested in your arches. Super. And these would have been the choice for any butterface gal back in ’47 (that’s a woman who looks lovely everywhere “but her” face).
Let’s enjoy the symmetry of this next ad.
Three shoes, six gals, three shoes. Finally, some order. Everyone needs a few smooth, young Connies. Wouldn’t you agree? But smooth, young Connies grow up to become Old Town Trollers. It’s inevitable.
Soft and supple. By the way, I’ve heard about Teena’s “brilliant night play.” Now, THAT’S something Google understands.
So much beautiful fagotting going on here.
It’s okay. It means joining two hemmed pieces of fabric together with decorative stitching. But can we just talk about her enormously thick Peyton Manning head, balancing on a neck that is even thicker than her waist? Have any of you a waist smaller than your neck?
And what of her hips? Has she any? How is she to put forth more Peyton-headed children from such slim loins? ‘Tis a mystery. I don’t get it.
So much in this one tiny image. The slender woman at the balcony, trying to fill the emptiness of her husband’s neglect with six ounces of Earl Grey, as he obliviously tries to pack away his clubs into a luxuriously long and lean baby blue ’64 Cadillac. Note the fender skirt. Have you ever driven a car with a fender skirt? Has the term changed because a skirt implies gender, though cars are often thought of as female? Can I call this a house of antebellum architecture? Or is that passé, now that Lady Antebellum has become Lady A, due to the fact that columns = slavery = plantations = racism? Better take Lincoln off the penny, as he denotes STRONG connotations of the Civil War, and we shan’t want to be reminded of that baser time. In fact, weren’t ALL times baser? Do not we become more woke and woke each day? At least, we all have the right to vote these days, but what of Yellow Dress up there? How can she get to the polling booths if Stan is taking the car? There was no mail-in in 1964. LBJ beat Goldwater that year, but perhaps his victory lies in part, due to all the housewives who simply could not make it to the booths that year, due to their golf-happy spouse’s Tuesday game. Makes you wonder.