Well, This Is Awkward

Men’s clothing ads of the 1930s were curious. I certainly don’t get it. Is this normal for a fully-dressed man to be supervising the sporting goods usage of a barely-dressed man? I don’t care for this tone.

Nor do I care for the tone of this one. Young men, arm in arm, marching in their underwear. It’s getting weirder. And I can’t even with their tagline.

This seems to be more normal, just some men in office shirts checking out another man’s clubs. And while it’s odd to buy clothes that “flatter your summer tan,” it doesn’t really get strange until you see the belted briefs. What is that about? Do you have those?

Let’s end on a less naked note, with this 1932 Arrow ad for men who get fooled by shirts. And no, that’s not our president; it’s a fellow who evidently goes fishing in a nice button-down, tie, and khakis. You know, like village fishermen. Is he petting that fish? Is he stroking its fins? Is that the proper protocol? No wonder shirts have been fooling him.

Life Is Like A Box Of Panties


It’s not too late to get your lady what she really wants for this inane Hallmark-induced holiday.  Regardless of her age, her weight, or even her sign (which you probably don’t even know, you CAD), no woman can resist a box of panties.  Just the thought of lying down on a yellow linoleum floor, surrounded by a veritable pinwheel of pastel-colored high-waisted granny panties gives me goose bumps. I know what I’m wearing under my Easter dress… Cupid, draw back your bow!

Look, Ma!  I don’t have to do the wash for three weeks solid!  Nevermind the scent from the hamper…

See how mesmerized she is as they swirl around her, like Snow White singing to the birds?  The sheerish netting on the pair she is sporting is so seductive.  Earl won’t be able to keep his hands off her once he steps down from his big rig.  That’s sexy from the bottom of her bum to her naval.  Nothing like scratchy fabric chafing her lower rib cage to put her in the mood for an amorous pretend holiday.  Fasten your seatbelt, Earl!

Note how carefree she has become, tossing her brassiere to the wind, strategically placing panties across her bosom, the way Peter Pan mermaids stuck adhesive starfish to their own chests.  That mermaid may seem jubilant in this scene, but her joy masks the pain of knowing she will never, ever be able to wear boxed panties.  Curse you, Neptune!



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