Girls Gone Mild
Category: Vintage
Catholic Girls Start Much Too Late
“Catholic girls start much too late.” That’s what Billy Joel says, anyway. But these Catholic girls look decades ahead of their time; heads bowed down, as if texting or finding apps for their smartphones at http://www.howtopraytherosary.com.
Growing up, I knew very few people who attended church and absolutely no one who attended Catholic church. I don’t even know if there was a Catholic school within twenty miles. All I know of Catholic school are the horror stories adults have told about knuckle-rapping nuns and fear of the confessional. I admit there is something eerie about these kneeling, chapel veil-adorned students and the halo surrounding them.
But I don’t know enough about Catholicism to condemn it, so I’ll leave that to Madonna. Sacrilegious is her middle name. In any event, this looks innocent enough.
Like most high school students, these young ladies had the opportunity to dissect “reckless amphibians.” Perhaps that was a small outlet for raging teenage hormones.
Uniforms prevented them from dressing hoochie-mama, and also made it more difficult to determine the poor from the middle class. Nobody was drinking Tab or Diet Coke or Monster; milk was doing their bodies good.
Without the distraction of boys, it was easier to remain chaste and avoid temptation. If you played your cards right, you could wind up with the coveted prize. Hope they hooked a good one!
Thirty-Five Cent Flick
When I was young, there was a dollar movie theater in town, where you could view not-so-recent movies or rescreenings of Ishtar. I also recall going skating on Wednesdays for dollar skate night. But I am not old enough to recall paying a quarter and a dime for a movie. This I cannot fathom. How much was a Coke? A nickel?
Ho Ho Hopelessly Outnumbered
When LBJ Locks You Into His Steely Death Stare…
…you cannot look away.
Politics Can Be Fun!
As long as it’s just college politics…
If You Find This Offensive, Wait Til Tomorrow’s Post
A prospective Girl of the Month exposes her calves for the judgement of the 1948 staff of The Ranger.
Ties That Bind
If these 1949 college boys could be casual and dapper sitting on a gymnasium floor, what excuse has modern man not to look dashing in a tie of his own?
These fellows may have been only nineteen years old, but they knew how to make the most of formal neckwear.
By contrast, our commander-in-chief, who you’d think would least have enough style to match wits with Michelle’s interesting sleeveless dress explosions, chose these duds:
Wow! Way to get us excited about politics! These are patriotic but BOR-ing, Barry. Even this stodgy old white guy had a superior tie collection. You probably don’t recognize him since you’ve taken down the portraits of prior presidents, but this one actually ended WWII.
Here’s some detail on Harry S. (You Dropped A Bomb On Them) Truman’s tie:
Whatever your political affiliation, you can recognize that we are most certainly NOT in the heyday of neckties. However, bow ties are enjoying a trendy little trip up the popularity scale…
I know they’re not mandatory at work or church anymore, and I realize ties may be constricting. But guess what? So are stilettos and thongs. So is this bra I’m wearing, crushing my ribs and leaving indents in my shoulders. So are nylons with the seams, but those do something for you, don’t they, fellas?
Back in the 1940s, if ladies couldn’t afford or find nylons, they’d resort to having their legs painted. Just to aesthetically please the boys.
So tie one on, okay? You can’t lose with a nice vintage tie. Skip the wide ones of the 70s and ultraskinny ones of the 80s. The 40s offered the most color and creativity.
Even in black and white, these ties show pizzazz.
I bet choosing that lackluster tie wasn’t that drinker’s only poor choice that night. Look how drab it appears next to his buddy’s poppin’ square print.
I don’t have a clue what print that is spilling across his chest (a peacock tornado? an eyebrow?), but I know it’s pimp. And so did she.
Feast on these delights. Surely one of them reflects your personality.
http://www.bulkvintage.com/
http://www.thefedoralounge.com/
And how about these for the ethnocentric Irishman?
This set sold for less than $23 on ebay:
If Ryan Gosling can try it, shouldn’t everyone?
Canterbury Club
Pre-Depression 1928 Alcalde
In my years of perusing old yearbook pages, I have found that the students’ portrait demeanors progress from stoic (you’ve seen Civil War era photos) to eternally wasted (beginning in the 60s and moving throughout the 80s). Humor was often saved for cartoons or jokes/limericks in the back of the book. However, the humor is usually so outdated, I can’t follow. And in some instances, just plain crazy.
I couldn’t make heads or tails of this one:
This yearbook belonged to Mabel E. Roberson from Humble, Texas, whom I imagine has since passed on, as she would be over 100 at this point.
Evidently, she did not spell “chaos” correctly, and was mocked for it, and understandably so. Chaos? Five little letters?
Her spelling may not have been up to par, but she did manage to make a “real friend.”
She also spent a happy night under the big bright moon with John C. Sutton.
She must have been too busy with John/Jack to give Kucera the time of day. He still mourned his broken heart.
Another man wanted to put her in jail with a life sentence. Egads, what sort of debt did she owe?
I combed these brittle pages and could not for the life of me find Mabel’s pic. I assume she was a little easier on the eyes than Sue Hill, big pimpin’ in her sparkly hat.
It would have been a hard time to be in college, no? This was during Prohibition. For those of you non-Americans, Prohibition was a nationwide ban on the sale, production, importation, and transportation of alcohol from 1920 to 1933. I don’t imagine Italy or France enforced such a thing. It was a time of flapper bobs, mink coats (before PETA threw red paint on fur), and apparently–Harry Potter glasses.
Dancing around the maypole gaily, who could have imagined The Great Depression was only a matter of months away?
Just Keep Smiling
Frosty the Mohawker Punk Rocker
Earmuffin’ and Big Pimpin’
Snowball fights
I Don't Get It 