Don’t Kick Sand In Their Faces
Category: Vintage
Lemons Into Lemonade
In My Country, Too, We Like Its Speed
I like the vagueness of the token foreigner’s words, “my country” because that could mean anything. Perhaps he is a successful businessman, since he is well-dressed and has access to slick hair creams. I like his grand gesture as well. It’s like he’s welcoming Barbara Bush to Fantasy Island.
Perhaps some of you are programmed to be on the lookout for racism, so you can’t possibly enjoy this. Let’s find an opportunity to be offended; won’t that be fun? But break down his words; there isn’t anything pejorative there. He’s not represented in a demeaning way. He’s not dressed in rags or carrying a water vessel on his head–or a towel–or a sombrero. He’s simply declaring that all countries can appreciate the merits of Convair. And if it still existed, perhaps I could, too.
Countdown to Thanksgiving
As you prepare for your Thanksgiving holiday in LESS THAN TWO WEEKS, keep these important facts in mind:
- If your in-laws are coming to your home, stock up on Pepto-Bismol. And remember what Benjamin Franklin said: “Guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days.” Hollah.
- If you’re the one traveling, make sure your vehicle has been well-maintained. I can’t overstate this enough.
- When you’re fueling up, use high anti-knock gasoline. You never know what kind of weather you will encounter.
- Many Americans enjoy spending hours swilling beer and watching football as a way of offering up thanks on this four-day weekend, so make sure your big screen TV is not on the fritz.
- Don’t forget the most important part: dessert! Everyone loves pies–pumpkin, pecan, apple, sweet potato, blackberry, chocolate cream, coconut cream…There’s always room for dessert.
- But above all, avoid excessive gluttony.
- And remember what it’s all about, Charlie Brown–an annual tradition since 1863, when Lincoln proclaimed a national day of “Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens.”
Tales of a 150-lb Has-Been
The August 23, 1958 Saturday Evening Post caught my eye because of the beautiful artwork on the front cover.
Despite the dainty waving, it’s a lovely summer log cabin scene called Visitors to Cabin in the Woods. I ponied up the dollar for the magazine and peeked inside. I discovered a two-page article on Francesca Marlene de Czanyi von Gerber, aka Mitzi Gaynor. Most of us remember her from South Pacific.
The article featured this playful shot of her on the beach.
Ummm, am I blind? I think she could qualify as a raving beauty. I mean, come on. Fellas, would you kick this Technicolor lady out of your bed?
The article goes on to show a picture of her with her husband, Jack Bean. With his encouragement, she lost the disgusting 35 lbs she had been schlepping around like an elephant.
Thankfully, Jack transformed her into a 37-20-36 and revitalized her fledgling career. She was then able to make movies with Gene Kelly, where she posed in unnatural positions such as this for The Fart Whisperers.
It seems that marrying Mr. Bean (not this one)–
but this one–
served her well, as they were married until his death in 2006. And as far as I can tell, she kept her figure. A round of applause, for you, 82-year-old Mitzi Gaynor. Not a has-been at all!
Too Much Head
I just got another stack of old magazines, and this ad jumped out at me from a 1960 Look.
What’s right with this ad:
- Sexy moodlight
- Her smooth, parted hair, clipped low at the neck.
- It rhymes. That’s pretty cool. “Put the finest label on your table.”
What’s odd with this ad:
- He’s pouring Miller (the champagne of bottled beer) from one presumably cold glass container into another. What was wrong with the bottle? I’ve never understood that. And he’s not even tilting the pint glass to reduce that drastic amount of head. Hold it at at a 45° angle!
- Miller is from Milwaukee. Why does this ad look so Polynesian? Is this a theme party with Mediterranean olives and French bread and Greek spit-roasted lamb?
- I’m frightened by the menacing tiki sculpture in the background. It looks like one of those angry apple trees in The Wizard of Oz.
http://www.houseofhawthornes.com/
- The seasonal conflict: his shirt says winter, her dress says summer.
- His apron is too clean. Somebody had to rub that meat.
- This is too much food for two skinny white people. In fact, the lettuce appears to be making a getaway from the salad bowl. And you know such a demure, classy woman would never dare to consume more than 4 oz of meat at a time. Perhaps that partially lit door indicates a patio party. And those half a dozen plates imply guests are coming.
- If they are preparing for said patio party, why aren’t they arguing? You know he didn’t buy all the ingredients she asked him to pick up at the store. He should have brought a pen to cross them off the list, like she told him a million times. Perhaps her look is one of passive aggressive seething rage. He’ll get his later.
- He knows he’ll get his later. That’s why he’s topping off his third glass already. The fact that he forgot their anniversary last weekend didn’t help matters. Keep drinking, Ted. Keep drinking.
Gratitude To All Who Served, Part II
And to my great-uncle, Al, who is still going strong as well–Happy Veteran’s Day!
Gratitude To All Who Served, Part I
And to my 93-year-old grandfather, Happy Veteran’s Day!
Camel And Flare Red
There’s no denying the magical combination of camel and flare red, and no better time to cover your body with it than fall. Autumn. November. And that’s NOW. So go get your camel and flare red on!
The youth of today love Taylor Swift, and even she proclaims, “Loving him was red.” Look at those models and how interested they are in that gawky adolescent boy, holding a strawberry malted. Loving him is undeniably red.
WOW–even the sign is in camel and flare red! What a power couple–like Kim and Kanye, without the limitless ego and shameless self-promotion.
Jessica Simpson knows what time it is: time to carry a Fendi leather bag. In camel and flare red.
Nevermind that she’s still in character as Daisy Duke in those ratty shorts that are binding up at her crotch, and please overlook the shoulder-padded jacket she stole from Melanie Griffith in Working Girl. The point is the BAG. The neutral and the POP of color.
But let’s not get distracted. It’s not the Hump Day Camel.
Nor is it Jennifer Aniston’s flair in Office Space.
And certainly not these flares.
It’s camel and flare red! You must admit there’s no denying the magic of camel and red.
See how happy he is?
Like Dig What’s New
For people of my generation, Bob Denver will forever be Gilligan, the Skipper’s “Little Buddy.” But to my parents’ generation, Bob Denver remains Maynard G. Krebs from The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis (also known as simply Dobie Gillis ), a sitcom that aired from 1959 to 1963. Maynard was TV’s first beatnik and jive-talking bongo player, and wannabe hepcats thought he was cool. Even Montgomery Ward took notice and offered trim tapered cotton ivy shirts for those in the know.
In case you missed it, here’s a close-up:
So it wasn’t Moon Zappa or Valley Girls who coined “like” after all. Mainstream American catalogs were doing it way back in 1962. They even used Maynard’s bongo-playing likeness to sell their combed cotton eversheen coats.
Facial hair? What the what? And check out these bobble heads. I wonder what they’d be worth today, American Pickers? Antiques Road Show? Pawn Stars? Anyone?
In case you’ve never seen Maynard in action, here’s a clip of him, showing his classmates the first portable music player, so he can listen to smooth jazz.
Ain’t it a gasser?
No Hat Rack For The Regulars
This was too good not to share–a drugstore in Leakey, Texas in 1973.
Thick, Thirsty Terrycloth
You all know my beef with wearing pajamas in public: NOT ACCEPTABLE. Not to the mailbox, not to walk your kids to the bus stop, not even to put your trash out on trash day. No, sir, we don’t do that. And that goes for slippers, too.
Not in the ghetto, not in the store, not in the driveway, do it no more.
Seriously, big fella? Did you think we wouldn’t notice?
And just because you are at Wal-Mart does not give a grown-ass woman free reign to wear onesies, especially with a faux designer bag.
Footsies! Really?
The only way this would EVER be acceptable is if you ran out of your burning house in the middle of the night, and ran straight to Wal-Mart to purchase bonafide normal clothes, appropriate for all to see, and you had the PRESENCE OF MIND to change into said new clothes in their rank restrooms before actually exiting the building.
The only other alternative I can see is to time travel back to 1962 and purchase any sleepwear from Montgomery Ward because I have thumbed through that ’62 Fall & Winter catalogue, and let me tell you–the pj’s are nicer than today’s styles.
Yes, these were sold as pajamas–cotton flannelettes, to be exact. Why, look at how gay and merry these ladies look! One’s got a telescope. That’s science!
And don’t be fooled into thinking you can’t look hip and trendy in these modest choices. These were made for sleeping, not twerking, but there’s nothing “square” about a shift gown. It says so right in the ad!
Before viewing this ad, I didn’t even realize I NEEDED a bonnet to accessorize my sleepwear. See how it helps her with those fancy yoga moves?
And let’s don’t forget the fellas. Why wear a wifebeater and pajama bottoms with the name of the university that you only attended for one semester twenty years ago when you could wear this?
Go ahead; bring your pipe. What’s not to love with so many colors and prints? This guy is right on time.
And hey, so what if you’ve packed on some pounds after turning 40? Hide that flabby belly underneath one of these swank terry robes, also in TALL and STOUT. That means 170 lbs in 1962.
And let’s not forget the kids. These pajama sets are publicly presentable.
Makes me want to take a trip to Dream Town myself! Those ski pajamas could go from bed to elementary school in no time. Why change at all when it’s so fashion forward? But leave the sleepers at home, kids. Those plastic soles won’t cut it on today’s asphalt parking lots.
Seriously, don’t Betty, Tommy, Sarah, and Mike look smart? Nothing outdated about these Easter eggshell pastels. I suddenly want to eat some Jordan Almonds. Hey, let’s get in the station wagon and get some at Wal-mart. But first, let me make sure I’ve got my 1962 pajama set on. I don’t want to look like I’ve given up on every dream I ever had or lost every last shred of dignity.
I Don't Get It 