Waking up in a city that doesn’t sleep and finding they’re at the bottom of the heap, they still manage to find some merriment and hone their cocktail-making skills.
And the spray of a nearby fire hydrant couldn’t hurt…
Hot Town, Squalor In The City
Category: Photography
Things That Don’t Pair Well With Wine: That Outfit
Why am I so salty on the sabbath? Is it the 100+ heat with no chance of a cloud until mid-October? Perhaps I just can’t process why this vintner chose to put that ensemble together.
“Okay, Carol, focus, focus! The magazine is coming today, and they’re going to take some pictures, so I’ll just build my outfit, starting with shoes. These sandals are so smart! What goes with this coral shade? Ah, yes, my old artist’s smock–the one with sleeves that go past my weenus. What’s next? The plaid navy skirt that makes me look bulky despite my thin frame. Marvelous. Done.”
To be fair, salmon and navy are on trend this season. Just not in the same proportion.
In fact, my last dress purchased was a navy/salmon print. That salmon is so current. Or is it against current? 😉
Who knew you could even get SHOES in said colors?
Just perfect for the petite jogging woman who needs to add three inches of height as she pounds pavement!
Before Summers Were 110 Degrees
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?
Steven Spielberg Needs A Stylist
Seated are Steven Spielberg and the young Christian Bale on the set of 1987’s Empire of the Sun.
What do you think? I prefer his Magnum P.I. look on an Indiana Jones set with buddy, George Lucas.
When Helen Was A Popular Name
In days of yore, both high school and university yearbooks included many pages of the campus’s most attractive dames. The 1933 Austin High School Comet was no exception. Let’s start with the freshman.
How equestrian! How polished! How elegant!
Now on to the sophomores.
Check out the razzle-dazzle art deco framing their pics. I guess most high school girls owned riding crops. Now we see the juniors, both named Helen.
And there are no 12A or B favorites, oddly. Just Essie Mae Wentworth, Queen of the Spring Festival.
When Everyone Dresses Like Criminal Bonnie Parker
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.
Appa Kalpha Appa 1943
On The Train To Sancti SpÃritus
My granddad took this photo out the window of the train he traveled across central Cuba, when he visited the island at the age of 83 in 2003. Like most of Cuba, it looks like a scene from the past, frozen in time.
Back To Cool
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.
Home On The Range
I’m not a desert person. The closest thing to a desert that I enjoy is “Desert Moon” by Dennis DeYoung. But for many folks, the old west (and the new west) holds a certain fascination. My youngest aunt would love nothing more than to climb up hot, dirty rocks in oppressive heat, surrounded by cacti and reptiles that want to kill her, till the cows come home.
No, gracias.
I know I’m known for not getting it, but I can see the allure of this image: the mesmerizing fire, Lassie shaking hands with Old Shep, some Hawaiian guy wearing an aloha shirt (why?), the chuck wagon, Alice from “The Brady Brunch” available to stoke the fire. But sitting in dirt? Pass.
Who wants to sit in dirt? Do you really think this family is enjoying sitting in dirt in this God-awful stretch of Tucson? The six-pack of soda is already hot. The ants are halfway up the watermelon rinds. Little Suzy has a rattler not five inches from her sandals. Are there no picnic benches in Tucson? I can already feel my underwire getting sweaty. This looks miserable.
Modern-day tourist sites use this image to try to lure you into the Sonoran Desert.
While I agree that rainbows are pretty, we have them here twice a year when it rains. I would think treehuggers would avoid this area at all costs. Oak trees, cottonwoods, magnolias–all huggable. Cacti not so much. Mesquite and scrub brush? Not so fun. But again–to each her own. I contend I would definitely enjoy the LOW HUMIDITY.
Finally–the sun has set! Sunrise, sunburn, sunset repeat. Fortunately, this cowgirl gets to sit on a blanket to enjoy her Coke under the full moon. And maybe the elder cowhand can scooch so she can have some alone time with young Hank. Can’t you just see them ripping their scarves off and tossing them into the arid night?
Maybe all this makes you want to saddle up a bronc or throw your chaps and spurs on, but all it makes me want to do is stop by the local 7-11 to take advantage of their 2 for $3 Gatorade special. It’s all so dehydrating.
Data Processing System 1966
Antler Chandelier
I don’t mind wood paneling (tongue and groove) or framed pointer pups or even taxidermied crittters in lodges, but I’ve never been a fan of skulls. Not Coco-movie, Day of the Dead colorful human skulls, nor Southwest lying-in-the-desert animal skulls. So this chandelier (or perhaps it’s just rustic lighting) doesn’t float my boat.
I’d prefer something less bony, less death, more modern, like these super trendy Edison bulbs.
But they’ll probably look dated in 10 years.
How about a DIY project? I know mason jars are cute, but I honestly don’t even like drinking out of them in restaurants and bars that offer them. It’s supposed to be quaint and down-home, but lips just don’t feel good against jar rims–and now that cities are outlawing straws, what to do? While I admit I like the turquoise, I don’t cotton to this aesthetic. Looks like a clanky accident waiting to happen.
What do you think of these chandeliers at Albatross in Shinjuku, Tokyo?
No amount of liquor could help heal the headache she’d get if one fell on top of her noggin. And then we’d have another skull to worry about.
I Don't Get It 