This mischievous little cutie really was a coalminer’s daughter in Yorkshire, England in 1952. Employment in coal mines fell from a peak of 1,191,000 in 1920 to 2,000 in 2015.
Add that to the list of sooty jobs I’d never want.
Have you ever heard of such a thing?
With spring upon us in just three weeks, I can’t help but start preparing my poolside wardrobe. Sure, you may have a fab, supportive one-piece and stilettos, but do you have a complimentary bonnet–the kind that reminds you of the underside of a mushroom cap? Jeanne Crain sure did in 1944. Sun protection for her fabulous face!
Speaking of sun protection, actress Betty Hutton protects her mug with a salmon-colored parasol that coordinates perfectly with her swimsuit.
Is it over-the-top, dramatic, and extra? Yes. I mean, there’s a tiger. Folks complain about shark attacks at the beach, but it’s tigers that mostly do the mauling. And is it me, or does Betty look a little…I won’t say trans per se, but maybe just a bit masculine? It’s probably just the lighting of her shoulder, right?
No need to be extra if you’re Norma Jean herself. It doesn’t take high drama for her to get noticed. But well before she bleached her hair into the famous Monroe coif, she donned a bikini nearly as pale as her skin. Talk about alabaster. Okay, so maybe she’s not being extra at all (just sitting on a diving board at the community pool), but she was EXTRA white!
Perhaps you weren’t born pale ale like Whitey McWhitey. Perhaps you were gifted with tan skin like Yvonne DeCarlo. What can you do to set yourself apart from the mainstream? Find yourself a set of pier posts dangerously high above the surf, climb atop them and perch yourself, as though you can’t feel the sharp wood etching itself into your bum. Folks might think you’re mad, but what a shot for Instagram. Just don’t plummet to your death.
Still need something more eye-catching in your swimwear? How about ruched gold lame? It slims protrusive abdomens and instantly makes any woman look 20 years older. Case in point: here we have Carolyn Jones (aka Morticia Addams) posed aboard a ship railing, looking much older than her 31 years. It brings to mind an image of one’s randy aunt, having escaped her Carnival cruise cabin, full of gin, and ready to mingle.
Not extra enough? Look no further than drama queen Kim K herself, the queen of incessant yet unnecessary self-promotion, trying too hard to seem casual, while her swimsuit struggles to contain her underboob. Notice me! Validate me! Pay attention!
Here we see three wasted Indochinese men being unproductive after their opium fix. LIFE magazine didn’t mince words:
This woman took a hard pass on addictive substances and showed up to the warehouse on time to dry some crepe. 
The article presented a violent look at the Indo-China region, with Tran Dang Man (aka “The Pirate”) lifting his sword in allegiance to the French, whom he and his 25 Annamite troops joined as professional bandits.
French Indochina is now today’s Cambodia, Vietnam, and Laos.
Cambodian soldiers man a guard tower on a highway leading to Saigon, while the bullock carts hauled rice below, hoping that the 8mm Hotchkiss machine gun wasn’t pointed their way.
In down times, men in Saigon perched on fences like birds on a wire.
This toddler seems to be wondering what the future holds.
I’ll let you make up your own title on this one. Plath was the clinically depressed poet who stuck her head in an oven and died of carbon monoxide fumes, but had the good sense and forethought to seal up the walls, so that her nearby children should not perish in their rooms. Nice.
Still not a good case for electric, though.
This is such a fun scene, with three generations of folks, prepping dinner. The apron matches the curtains. Everyone is thin, skirted, and cheery. What more could you want? Other than a gas range.
I have enough 1940s yearbooks to confirm that Sadie Hawkins dances, based on the then-popular L’il Abner strip, were a HUGE DEAL. Nowadays, not so much. In fact, my son’s high school had one scheduled earlier this month, and it was cancelled due to low ticket sales. Eight tickets, to be exact. And keep in mind, all the other dances have been packed.
What does that say about today’s youth? Aren’t women enlightened enough to ask boys to the dance? That’s the whole point of it. Or is it an outdated concept altogether, since boys now ask boys and girls ask girls? Every high school around here has its share of transgender kids who were named Katie in 8th grade and now go by Collin. Or perhaps teens just don’t like donning hillbilly garb–although I think they nixed that part long ago. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen anyone in overalls in a few decades.
In any event, the times sure have changed.
The milk isn’t sour, but the looks on these lasses sure are. The middle makes the picture. A bearded geezer and a man hoofing a canister. Love it! AJ Earp took this pic in 1905 at the Cliff Owen dairy farm in Winchester, Kentucky. The milk was probably raw and definitely whole. I don’t trust folks who drink skim.
I’m guessing this was taken at a Mexican restaurant that happened to have a tree inside it.
Can you imagine a 19-year-old dressing like this for a track meet?
Even minus the heels, in penny loafers and socks, Betty is dressed to impress.
Surely those soldiers were trying not to stare at Trebie.
Budgie knew how to hit the books.
Pat re-enacted her Gone With The Wind fantasy.
These fellows tried to get their attention after the photo shoot. Good luck!
Yes. All those geometric figures and unnecessary flaps, bangled belts, and denim tops.
Yes. Popped collars.
Flintstone Barbies.
David Byrne meets Max Headroom.
Um, no. I never wore that. What IS that? Is it dead? Is it ruffles? He is speechless.
He wishes he could unsee it. But he can’t.
It’s already been seen.
All images from 1987 UT Austin Cactus.
As many of you know, I judge all my books by their covers. The only books I purchase are in the clearance $1-$3 section at Half Price Books, chosen firstly by their spines, then their covers, and then the summaries on the inside cover. I read them in a matter of weeks and donate them back to the store when I’m done. I haven’t bought a retail book from Barnes & Noble in over a decade. Why pay $25 for a book when you could eat enchiladas and have a frosty Coke?
So today, as I perused the clearance section, this little book caught my eye with its bright colors, still vivid since 1933. Isn’t it scandalous? I didn’t buy it because it’s not my fictional cup of tea, but I thought I should share its fun cover. Evidently, the author enjoyed the desert. And whoever does buy it will snag it for only three bucks!
I Don't Get It 