July 6, 1911. It’s hot. It’s humid. It’s New York. Hygiene is sorely lacking. There’s no chilled Coke. No frosty A&W. No Slurpees available. So why don’t we stick some blocks of ice on the hot asphalt of a dirty city street and invite some unvaccinated urchins to come lick it? It’s not like it’s a bat or anything.
Wow, this ad campaign has got it all. The bandwagon technique; he’s running with the pack. He doesn’t care about personality; he only dates Eye Tonics. So if you’re the angel cake that’s trying to catch the eye of a dark hunk of muscle like Chuck, you better spread some fancy frosting all over you, ladies! It’s not optional; Chuck says it’s glamour homework. It’s your assignment! Remember, he’s for the filly with an even pace!
So what is this ad even selling, other than insecurity? This stylish lass, though trim and decked out in modern garb, seems to be apprehensive about her potential suitors. Probably because she has a secret. A secret that keeps her elbows close to her side, while the boys wave their arms about. She reeks.
But for a few coins, she can rate with fellows like Chuck. Thank you, ARRID!
Seems like an easy way to snag a date with boys who possess a molasses drawl. Just a swipe in your pits, and you’re done!
Mrs. James Caufield (because magazines didn’t care about married women’s first names) shapes cotton gloves at the Prairie Glove plant in Carlinville, Illinois on what appears to be a giant fork. At this point in 1967, the firm employed 170 townspeople and churned out 10,000 pairs a week. Is it me, or do they look Goliath-sized?
Personally, we’ve stopped our usage of gloves and simply wear masks and use sanitizer as of late–some wonderfully smelling ones from Bath & Body that we procured yesterday in a clean, manly scent, as well as a Sunshiney lemon one. It is a bit disconcerting to watch a waitress wearing the same gloves at an outdoor restaurant, bring your drinks (touching the rims, which was a HUGE server no-no back in my day), then touch your neighbor’s plates, etc, throughout the entire meal. I would have rathered she just washed her hands repeatedly. Such is our new learning curve.
I’m still surprised how hard it is for folks to figure out how to use gloves, that as soon as they are covered in germs, you toss them, instead of climbing into your car and grabbing your wheel and touching your radio and yanking the emergency breaks. Now you’ve just transferred all the nasty germs all over your car. Folks are stupid. Guess we should stick to the OG gloves when this pandemic is over.
Poor porker–he got outscienced! But take heart, you are still needed–for your delicious, delicious meat. Until then, enjoy fishing, wearing watches, and fastening overalls like the porcine do.
Hog bristle, huh? People brushed their teeth with hog bristle. Did you do that? More than one dentist has told me to never choose “hard” bristles, so I can only imagine how hard hog bristles are. Could you brusha-brusha-brusha with this implement?
I’ll pass. Chinese invented the bristle toothbrush in 1498 out of hog hair attached to bamboo or bone. I guess it got the job done, and possibly that last little fleck of pork that was wedged in between your molars. Perhaps if you only needed teeth until you were 30 (when you died), it wasn’t so bad. I have never felt so grateful for my Sonicare.
Does this 1954 ad make ANY sense to you? Pretending to be homeless must have been a gas, gas, gas. Sulphur and molasses was actually considered a spring tonic back in the day, though it sounds wretched. Shreds and patches is how Hamlet referred to his uncle, so this has got me vexed. I guess I’m not in the know.
And the rest of it? I suppose that was young peep’s slang. What woman of childbearing age would want to be accused of being a “mope-at-home” or “social sluggard”? Certainly not me! Slap a Kotex on and get to hobo hiking.