Kitchen Retro

Magic Sauce Cubes

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 15:07:00 +0000

The dogs do not want to discover this new taste. They may want to cover it, though. In the backyard, where it will not bother anyone ever again.

Even the disembodied head on the box looks skeptical. It is not even looking at the Magic Sauce Cubes. No one wants to.

And no one will thank you for this: not your dog, not the people you live with who have to look at this, and certainly not the cat (she's just glad she doesn't have to get involved). And naturally, you won't like it either. Imagine having to perform culinary magic with these horrible cubes! It "releases its own delicious sauce - like magic." No, just no.

Do you get the impression that this product was fairly short-lived?

[From Life, November 16, 1962.]

Hopalong Casualty

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 14:13:00 +0000

Yes, you too can be "a Spaceman or Hopalong Casually." How casual is this, to be bouncing along the sidewalk in your Space Shoes? It will soon be followed by your casually falling on your face.

These mini-surfboard-and-springs devices are strapped to your regular shoes and will keep you hopping for the proverbial "hours of fun."

I've always wondered, precisely how many hours are "hours of fun"? I think it probably translates to "about five minutes or less."

Please note that all you fun-loving Canadians will have to shell out $2.75 instead of $1.98. That's just the way it is. Too bad they can't just lob them over the border - I'm sure they are springy enough.

I would guess that the Space Shoes ad is from the 1960s. In the 1960s, Murray's in New York made "sensible" shoes called Space Shoes (I didn't find a picture, but I'll bet you can imagine them) - and then there were these exquisite Outer Space Shoes from 1973. To go with the Lesiure Spacesuit, no doubt (medallions not included).

I have no idea why they are called Outer Space Shoes. Maybe that's the only place you'd be in fashion when you wore them. Those white ones with the buckles in particular.

Many thanks to tomheroes for the springy Space Shoes ad. The Outer Space Shoes are from The Rotarian, April 1973.

The Slumber Helmet

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 13:59:00 +0000

Last Friday I found a copy of the Woman's Journal, an English magazine, from 1937, for only a couple of dollars. It was up on a really tall shelf and it took me about an hour to get it down without having the whole entire floor-to-almost-the-ceiling bookcase fall over on me. But there were no step stools in the place. They did have the ladders that are attached to old tall bookcases (like they always have in English country house libraries in Agatha Christie novels) but this bookcase didn't have a ladder. And there were no tall people to ask to get it down. Anyway, I did get it down without ruining the bookstore or my cranium so hurray.

There are tons of wonderful ADS! in there but it is a big magazine and my scanner is small and frightened of large items. So...what I can do is scan some of the little ads. Here is one of my favorites:

Behold, the Ladye Jayne Slumber Helmet! That extra 'e' on the end of 'Lady' makes it so much more elegant, don't you think?

The words "Slumber" and "Helmet' do not go together. At all. Thus, the Ladye Jayne ensures that you will be very uncomfortable trying to get to sleep. Because it is a bathing cap, pretty much. A tight bathing cap that you stuff your permanent-waved head into every night so that you will be gorgeous in the morning.

I'd almost rather have a few books fall on me than wear this.

The Shelvador Dali Refrigerator

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 16:14:00 +0000

The Shelvador Dali is a surreal refrigerator. That is because it is claiming to defrost itself. But in fact it is actually creating surreal art in there. Rearranging the fruits and vegetables to make strange faces. And if all your clocks end up in there looking like soggy pancakes, you'll know why.

At three o'clock in the morning, fully made up under studio lights, she's just pretending to dream, really.

And the Shelvador? It's just pretending to defrost itself. I remember those old refrigerators. They did not defrost themselves, ever. You had to put pots of hot water in there. Or a special defroster that looked like five curling irons welded together, that you plugged into a socket in the kitchen. It took hours to get that layer of ice off. It was like polar ice.

This lady is dreaming all right. Because the Shelvador's little gimmick has to do with Shelves. It is not called the Frostador or the Icepicador. You buy it for the shelves. And, of course, for its artistic talents.

[From Life, July 13 1953. Salvador Dali's 1931 painting, The Persistence of Memory, is from Wikipedia.]

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Thank you so much to Melissa at Melissa's Homeschool Blog for the Best Blog award!

A Canary Star Is Born

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 16:07:00 +0000

So you have a canary - or a parrot, this works on parrots, too - and he or she just doesn't want to sing. Just doesn't feel like it! I'm sure we can all relate. I myself do not feel like singing every minute of the day (much to the relief of the rest of the family).

After all, life is not an MGM musical, with an orchestra starting up every time someone has something important to say (or sing). This is good. And canaries sense this. They are smart. Parrots, too.

But is this good enough for Johnson Smith, purveyors of 1920s novelty items? Oh no, it is not. You must have a bird that sings like Bette Midler 24/7! Yes, that's an anachronistic reference, but never mind. (Insert "Wind Beneath my Wings" joke here.)

So what you do is you get Johnson Smith's lovely rubber canary - painted Canary Gold, and packed in a "handsomely decorated box." It will be sitting on a rubber perch. And it has a little tooting tube attached to it.

Then you must find a confused child to blow into the tube and make the rubber canary sing. It will probably sound like a pathetic 'toot toot' as opposed to accurate bird song but no matter. Oh, and the bill and tail will move, too. So your very smart canary (or parrot) will be totally fooled into thinking it has competition. In no time at all your real canary will be belting out numbers like an avian Ethel Merman. And even your parrot will be warbling in no time at all. You will be able to put on quite a show, with a few of these Victory Canaries in the chorus line. So buy several, and start packing - you're on your way to Hollywood. These birds are heading for the big time!

[From Popular Mechanics, October 1922.]

Queen of theThingumajigs

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 14:38:00 +0000

Oh, Louise! Don't you know anything about those Tampax thingumajigs? Mary thinks you are a foolio for even asking.

You see, Mary, you're supposed to be polite to your so-called friends. And that means at least pretending that you think they do not ask dumb questions. Just consider Ms. Frizzle, if you will, for a moment. She is the cartoon star of the Magic School Bus - Ms. Frizzle, the science teacher who takes her class on field trips to the moon and to the interior of baking cakes and frog ponds (with nary a signed permission form in sight, by the way) - she is always telling her class to keep asking lots and lots of questions. Because no question is dumb.Strangely, Ms Frizzle's class never do ask the really important questions like: where are the bathrooms on the moon? And if we just got baked into a pie, are we going to have to go through a car wash on the way back to school to get the lemon meringue out of our hair?

Mary would not make a good cartoon science teacher, though, would she? She says if Louise truly doesn't know about those thingumajigs, "I'll give you credit for less intelligence than I thought you had."

That's harsh. If I was Louise I think I'd pack it in right there, give Mary a little accidental-on-purpose shove off the picnic bench, and go home. But she keeps on keeping on. She is surprised that Mary uses Tampax bcause Mary is "conservative."

Mary responds by saying "I'd be stupid not to use it."

And still Louise persists. Asking more questions. Hanging on Mary's every word, through the bragging about her friend the nurse, and all the up-to-date girls at the office who use these thingumajigs.

Mary is on the left in the ad, obviously. She has that Joan Crawfordesque look of sophisticated exasperation. Louise, at right, is straight off the cover of a pulp magazine for girls: she just didn't know!

Just like I don't know what's going on in the Teen Confessions cover story on the left. But there's the usual triangle: Catty in the background, Confused up front, with Dopey Guy stuck in the middle (he is sitting out the whole Tampax ad thing, which is wise). Added twist: a Christmas tree, which is taking it all in, and is about to make itself heard.

Maybe next time Louise would do better asking the Christmas tree for advice.

[1942 ad, from Ad Access. Ms. Frizzle from Scholastic. Teen Confessions cover from Cover Browser.]

******

Many thanks to Vickie at digivickie's word art for the Best Blog award!

Dinner On the Rocks

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 14:26:00 +0000

Why is Steve so glum and grim?
This dinner disagrees with him,
He wishes he had never come,
For gooey stew all overdone;

And gruesome guests are all round
The table making little sound
Except to gasp and look askance
At plates of stuff that came from cans:

Jack's telling the same old awful story
To his dinner partner Maury
Whose terribly morose expression
Suggests a case of indigestion.

And Herbert's giving the stink eye
To everyone who tries to lie
About the lovely time they've had -
He knows this party's pretty bad:

They must have dined on something cold
Ensconced within a Jell-O mold,
Washed down with Chateau Mauvais Vert -
Oh, how they wish they weren't there!

So fill them up with Hiram Walker!
It turns the most annoying squawker
Into a sycophantic guest
Who'll give the grumbling groans a rest.

This fine liqueur is all you need:
It does not matter what you feed
To people: veggie Jell-O? Fine!
And cheaper brands of table wine

Of very recent cheapo vintage
Evoking socks and dryer lintage,
With leftovers that look primordial -
Just wash them down with Hiram's cordial.

The Brotherhood of the Travelling Pants

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 14:32:00 +0000

Oh, clothes "tell a story about taste and individuality" all right. Don Parker ought to know. Because the pants he made in 1967 had a few things to say. A few dramatic things.

This is the story of one seemingly ordinary pair of pants:

I don't suppose you want to hear about how they cut the flannel and I was sewed up in some factory. I had a large family. Well, really quite large. There were a lot of legs, a lot of belt loops and pockets and it was all too easy to get lost in the machinery.

But I didn't mind. I was always - oh, I guess I was something of a dreamer. I thought: someday, some brilliant celebrity will be wearing me on a transatlantic jet, almost but not quite spilling champagne on me and ordering minions about.

But life took a wrong turn for me. It all started going wrong when they put that permanent crease in. The Immacula Durable Crease, they called it. Sounds like Dracula to me. And I call it a nuisance.

It cheapens my look, you see. No really expensive pair of pants has that cheap permanent dividing line. And that ridiculous super-tight fit which says: don't sit down, or there'll be a wedgie in your future.

Anyway, I ended up at Sal's Haberdashery in Des Moines. Was bought by a used car salesman named Al. Al stands a lot, trying to pester folks into buying clunkers out on the back lot. So the famous crease stays put. But it is - well, boring. And I'm tired and worn down, to be honest.

Champagne and minions? I'd just settle for a martini and pretzel sticks at the local Holiday Inn.

And I could sure use a sit-down, for a change. A wedgie? Who cares anymore! Not me.

[From Time, May 1967.]

Mayo Clinic

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 12:37:00 +0000

When two disembodied heads start gossiping about you, well - you'd better watch your back. And your head. These heads put the dis in disembodied, as they light into Sue because - well, just think of it: she had never tried Kraft mayo before. The nerve of that wench!

Simmer down, ladies. If you don't watch out, you're going to fall right into that salad platter. Which may be what was putting Sue off all this time.

And from the look of that salad, Sue probably was better off before. And so were her dinner guests. I mean, just look at that Avocado Salad! What in the world did Sue put in the avocados?

All sorts of disturbing possibilities spring to mind.

[pause to consider some]

Ugh.

Oh, don't worry, I'm just kidding! It's only tomato aspic. But still. It looks so - so soft and viscous. Nothing, not even Kraft mayo, is going to ameliorate this situation.

Kraft mayo, however, is flattering. It is "flattering to everything." We all know people like that, right? Well, now you also know a condiment like that -

"Gee, Sue, you look swell today. And ladies - boy, I never saw such bee-yootiful disembodied heads. You are stunning! And the tomato aspic - it's so...so - gelatinous."

Looking at that aspic, even the mayo is at a loss for words.

[From Life, October 16, 1950.]

Good Luck and Pirate Jinxes

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 13:44:00 +0000

This Johnson Smith Good Luck Ring (ad from 1922) intrigued me - because what it is, of course, is a skull ring. Skull rings were a form of memento mori jewelry created and worn to remember the deceased and literally to remind oneself of one's mortality (which is, after all, part of the original meaning of All Hallows' Eve). There are some spectacularly beautiful Georgian and Victorian skull rings here and here, for example. The 1922 ring looks a little bit happier than some of the other skull rings in old ads, and has curious horn-like eyebrows.

What is interesting about the novelty skull rings from the early 20th century is their detachment from this original meaning - in these ads, all from Popular Mechanics, the ring is supposed to be lucky or to frighten other people or, as in the 1952 ad, have something to do with a "Pirate Jinx."

The earliest novelty skull ring ad I found was from October 1912 (ad at right), so was possibly a Halloween tie-in. It was made by Acme H. House of Milwaukee and was a "handsome up to date ring" for "sporting men" guaranteed to "scare the timid." What sort of sporting men would have worn this, do you think?

The "Skull Ring" on the left was advertised in 1917. The copy states that "women won't like it, but for men or boys it is a great novelty."

In October 1947, Billboard advertised these "Superior" rings (for which read : "Cheap and Inferior"), including a multiple-snake ring and a skull ring. The skull eyes came in assorted colors and even though it was "truly a novel ring" you could buy them for "3.30 a dozen" (which hardly sounds novel, really).

The yellowed ad on the left is from 1952, by which time it is being called both a Skull Ring and a Pirate Jinx Ring. "Sterling silver" and yet only $1.98 - there's a Pirate Jinx right there.

I had no idea where the Johnson Smith novelties ad was going to take me when I started yesterday's post - but that is part of the enormous fun of writing about history and popular culture, and being able to pursue what seems interesting. This seems a bit more like a Dime Museum post, but it's staying here anyway.

******
Tomorrow starts National Novel Writing Month - which means that once again I'll be writing a first draft of what I hope will be, after 3 previous NaNos, a decent mystery novel (I have 3 bad first drafts and I don't need to have a 4th, since I don't intend to use them as dining room chairs). I will still be posting here, because I'm certainly going to need some laughs - but if I miss the odd day, you'll know why. And if I don't answer comments sometimes, you'll know why, too - apologies in advance.

Strange Novelties From the Jazz Age

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 13:32:00 +0000

Here are three things you will want to have for that Halloween party tomorrow night, from Popular Mechanics, October 1922 - thanks to Johnson Smith, the noted leaders in weird novelties.

1. The Mystic Skeleton - Not really very mystic, it will do the Monster Mash and the Twist while "the operator" mans the remote control from across the room. It is only 14 inches tall, though, so you'd better clear the dance floor first. Otherwise the Mystic Skeleton will get crunched up.

2. Serpent's Eggs - A dozen fake eggs that you "light with a match" and then a dozen fake snakes hatch and "twist about in a most life-like manner." They will enjoy dancing with the Mystic Skeleton. You might want to have a few fire extinguishers on hand, too - lighting eggs sounds a little tricky.

3. The Wonderful X-Ray Tube - Well, it's wonderful all right. You can see what are "apparently the bones in your fingers" through it. The Mystic Skeleton will want to try this out when it's taking a break from dancing up a storm. He might be able to see some plastic marrow - or something. Or possibly nothing at all. Which might be what you end up seeing, too, since it isn't really a Roentgen-approved scientific apparatus. But Johnson Smith promises that you will see the lead in a pencil and "the interior opening in a pipe stem" - which believe me, no one wants to see, not even a pipe cleaner.

The fourth novelty was so interesting I started doing a little extra research on it and...I'm going to post about it tomorrow. It is the perfect thing to show you on Halloween. And on that note - I'm going to leave you guessing!

The Weeny Witch Monarchy

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 13:32:00 +0000

This is just what the youngsters always wanted: to eat a witch made out of a hot dog. Therefore, your kids will be "kings and queens of the neighborhood" if you serve this to their friends. Granted, a hot dog is not generally interpreted as a mandate to rule, but perhaps the neighborhood does not know this.

What this really means is that YOU will be the acting Queen of the neighborhood, since your children will be too young to assume their royal duties. OK, now we're talking! Bring on the weeny witches.

Now, after you have made the children eat weeny witches, and grabbed control of the monarchy, you can enter the "Make the Baby Talk Contest"* (that's at the bottom of the ad). After all, you are the Queen, right? So the baby must have something to say about this. What will you make the baby say? How about:

- No, Your Highness, I will not throw my strained peas on the floor any more.

- Why certainly, I would love to sit in the playpen. Perhaps you could hand me a few magazines through the bars. If you would be so very kind. Or perhaps one of the courtiers could do this [hint: that would be the cats].

-Those Weeny Witches were an inspired idea, Your Highness! I simply cannot wait to see what delights you have in store for the Christmas season.

[From Life, October 26, 1953.]

* This referred to putting a cutesy caption on a baby photo, actually.

The Cereal Box Masquerade

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 13:36:00 +0000

Even the inanimate objects are dressing up in Halloween costumes here. The little cereal boxes decided to be - treats.

So picture this:

You're all dressed up like Grandpa from The Munsters.* Grandpa from The Munsters with a bad case of seasickness. So he's grumpy and green and he really needs something good to happen. As for you, you want candy. It's Halloween after all - the festival of free candy! And boy, things need to get better soon. It's been pencils and apples mostly, so far. Oh, and a few molasses taffy kisses, the kind with the orange and black paper wrappers that are welded right onto the taffy.

Ding-dong, trick or treat!

This can't be happening. Surely it is a bad dream. Maybe Grandpa never got off that boat and you're both drifting in a skim milk sea of bad luck and Alphabits that spell L-O-S-E-R.. Because - mini boxes of breakfast cereal? For Halloween? Oh, Mrs. Post, you just didn't!

Oh yes she did though! And the box even says Treat-Pak. The corporate Post Ghosties think this is a great idea. They even think you won't play any tricks, you will be so happy!

At the bottom, a tiny picture of the same kid is saying "All Post cereals happen to be just a little bit better." Just a little bit better than - than what? What else has Mrs. Post got on hand tonight? Goody bags filled with Bran Flakes? Skim milk cartons and spoons? Or something even more sinister?

Guess which house everyone's going to be covering in toilet paper tonight.

*Good trick that, because this ad predates the TV series by several years. The Munsters ran from 1964 to 1966, and this ad is from 1958.

What was the worst treat you ever got trick-or-treating? Please share! (Mine were mini boxes of Chiclets, and pencils.)

[From Life, October 27, 1958. That gave everyone four days to rush out and buy Treat Paks. Oh, and toilet paper.]

Scotch This

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 13:21:00 +0000

How Your Kids Can Have A Happier Halloween:

1. Use an excessive amount of shiny Scotch tape on Halloween mask.

2. Forget to attach an elastic cord to mask. Attempt to Scotch tape mask to head. Give up, removing tape (and some of your hair). Spend the evening holding it up to your face instead.

3. Realize that if you have to hold the mask like this, you won't actually be able to hold a candy bag.

4. Further realize that even if you could use one hand to hold a candy bag, the other hand would not be able to hold large mask up to adequately cover face.

5. Now start to worry about how cats probably do not go around wearing blue and white polka-dotted shirts. This is what happens when you spend all your time Scotch taping together a fancy mask. But at least you did manage to make a cat tail.

6. However: tail is stuck on with last few bits of linty tape (having used it all on the mask). Worry about efficacy of Scotch tape holding cat tail to the back of your pants.

[From Life, October 20, 1961. Scotch is a slang term meaning to put an end to something, as in scotching a rumor - aside from its being a synonym for Scottish, somewhat disliked by the Scottish.]

I Dreamed A Green Pelican Disliked My Halloween Costume

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 13:43:00 +0000

If you're looking for a good Halloween costume - keep on looking. Because this is not it.

You will just look like you forgot the top half of the ballerina outfit. I guess you could go as a forgetful ballerina, though. A forgetful ballerina with a lion head. Or a bird head (don't forget the cage and the jelly bean bird seed!). Or any number of other animal heads. There's a definite animal theme (except for the moon, at the bottom left, who seems to be hunting down the animal ballerinas for some reason).

What I really want to know is what the model is supposed to be for Halloween, in the big picture. She is wearing the worst looking plant-hat ever! It does distract one's attention from her shirtlessness. Sort of. But mostly it just makes her look like the unpredictable sort of guest who's going to cause a ruckus at the punchbowl at some point in the evening.

It also looks like her head is being squeezed by a rabid green pelican. Clearly, it does not approve of this semi-costume of hers. And it is all kinds of hungry, too.

If I were her, I'd stop preening for the camera and try to locate some jelly beans, pronto.

Many thanks to Althouse for this one. She got it from one of her commenters, so many thanks to him or her as well.

The Ventrilo

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 15:49:00 +0000

The Ventrilo was manufactured by the fabulous Johnson Smith & Co., makers of novelties such as this fake money. This one is also a little - irregular. Shady, even. I mean, yes, you could use it to make pretty little bird calls. But why not fool people instead?

That is obviously a ventriloquist on the right, with some creepy pals on his knee, - but what in the world is going on in the picture on the left? Is the schoolboy making the pack on the guy's back talk? And if so, why?

Lots of fun fooling the teacher, policeman or friends. Why, that does sound like fun. Possibly followed by detention - either in the principal's office or the local station house, your choice.

Pretend you are in a trunk or under the bed "or anywhere." That sounds like fun,too. How about pretending you're in a trunk, under the bed? There'll be lots of laughs if you do that, say, at a party. Or when it's time to go to school. Or when they're coming to arrest you for using that Johnson Smith counterfeit money all over town.

[From a 1922 Popular Mechanics. Guess which city Johnson Smith & Co. was based in? Hint: we've been to this city many, many times before - and are never disappointed by the weird products there.]

The all-Halloween kitsch and retro starts tomorrow and runs through the 31st ...

Banlon News

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 13:58:00 +0000

Thanks so much for joining us for this special news report on Ban-Lon Knits. We'll be bringing you all the latest on these colorful yet uncomfortable acrylic sweaters which require a guy to hold his arms at an awkward angle and put on a patently phony smile.

Speaking of which: our top story is an orange V-neck cardigan with black pants, just right for Halloween. But watch out when you're handing out the mini chocolate bars! A source close to this cardigan tells us exclusively that this self-conscious arm positioning is, in fact, because the cardigan sleeves are too long.

And now in other stories:

News in Vests: Today, lots of small white buttons team up with acrylic yarn to form what many are calling "the worst looking vests I have ever seen," according to one source, who added that "they are so tightly knit around the bottom, it's hard to see how one could avoid cutting one's blood supply off." Another source added that buttoning one's collar up to the top might also play some part in this alarming circulatory issue.

News in Sweaters: Pink v-neck or black bulky-knit? Or perhaps a light blue with a collar? The choice is yours. But there is no choice in yarn. Wool is uncool - cotton is rotten - but Ban-Lon is in. On a side note, there is no relevant rhyme for Ban-Lon. Man Gone? Ran One? It just doesn't work. Best to just move on to the next story, really.

Which brings us, finally, to the News in Sweater Shirts - and with all the latest, here's Doug McGregor, our National Acrylic Correspondent, coming to us live from the menswear department at Macy's in New York City. Wouldn't you really just call this a collared sweater, Doug? As opposed to a Sweater Shirt.

Doug: Yes.

So there really is no Sweater Shirt news at all.

Doug [pausing]: Yes, that's correct.

Thanks so much, Doug. Well, that seems to be all the news in this ad. Please join us at eleven for a recap of the same drivel, plus a Special Report on Ban-Lon Socks: are they any darn good? Now back to your regular Saturday programming...

[This report was brought to you by Life, October 27, 1958.]

Inferiority Complexion

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 13:04:00 +0000

Well, this advertisement isn't actually adding to my fun, exactly.

That girl over there, who appears to have a perfectly decent complexion, is sitting by the phone holding her ear. But maybe she has an earache from too much talking on the phone! Maybe she is not unpopular at all.

Probably not. I guess she needs some of this skin cream in order to cheer up. Because everyone knows you can hear zits over the phone! You can just tell if the voice on the other end of the line is coming out of a pizza face.

Another thing that is killing my fun is the name of this stuff: Pompeian Milk Massage Cream.* Pompeii, as you probably recall, is the go-to town for volcanic eruptions and what Wikipedia charmingly calls "exposed layers of jumbled sediment." Well, thank you very much, I can take a hint.

So now that the Pompeian Cream Company has reduced your self-confidence to rubble, you need to purchase and then apply their cream to your "soiled skin." If you take the directions literally, this turns out to be rather strange:

1. First stick your face in a hot towel. Added bonus: if you need to answer the phone now, no one will be able to sense your skin condition!

2. Then apply the cream...Wait. What? Apply it on the towel? Because the towel is presumably still over your face. They never said to take it off!

3. Then massage your skin (mind the hot towel) - and watch the cream turn from "wholesome clean pink" to "greasy dirt-grey" as it picks up the gunk on your horrible, filthy face. Lovely.

4. Towel is still on. They never ever tell you to take that hot towel off your face. Do they? They do not. Maybe the hot towel is the key to everything. The cream is just an excuse to tell you to stick a large cloth over your head - maybe a paper bag would be OK if you are in a hurry. Just - do something to cover up that greasy dirt-grey volcanic-ashen face of yours.

Archeologists everywhere will be phoning soon to thank you.

Note: You know that I'd be mocking them if they explicitly told us to remove the towel, too, don't you? In that case I'd say: oh, they must think we're really stupid!

* I do believe they left an 'i' off of Pompeiian, which is mildly annoying too.

From Life, August 11, 1941.

Square Brown Cup Not Included

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 12:41:00 +0000

Of course if he is stressed out and under pressure, you know who's got to get in there fast as a bunny and fix things - right?

Yes, ladies, that is correct. Please add this to your to-do list.

It shows in his eyes, the hunch of his shoulders, the way he picks at his food.

Because "a wife can always tell" when a guy is "Under Pressure." Oh look - quotation marks. You know it's time to be suspicious when you see those in an ad. Maybe it isn't work that's bugging this guy. Maybe he's also a werewolf. Maybe he's been moonlighting a lot. Maybe - oh, just maybe - he just drinks too much coffee. Mr. Caffein Nerves knows all about this sort of thing.*

Or it could be a combination of things. Maybe he's a werewolf who drinks twelve cups of coffee a day with a wildebeest for a boss and he's also seeing the cheetah (hah!) in the typing pool on the side. Oh, he's stressed out all right. Poor thing.

But have you given any thought to his hot mealtime drink? Gee, you know what, I hadn't. I thought he could decide about that by himself. Oh, silly me. So help him out with tea! Come on sister, move it! Brew that tea! And when you have a moment, you ought to pick the peas out of the mixed vegetables for him, too. I mean, have you given any thought to his mixed vegetable needs? He really gets upset about those peas. You know that.

Anyway, you are supposed to give him tea at every meal for seven days and see if that makes him less stressed out. Serve it in big cups and little mugs and even in square brown cups. You'd better run out to the store right now and get some if you don't have any square brown cups.

And please - give more thought to his chinaware needs from now on. It'll be on your conscience otherwise.

[This is from Life magazine, November 13, 1950 and the full-size version is here.]

* I know, I know! I can't believe I haven't got all my old posts over here yet, either...Speaking of to-do lists.

The Dixie Cup Horror

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 13:48:00 +0000

Nothing was ever the same after Mom put up that Dixie Cup dispenser.

At the time, it just seemed like an ordinary day. But looking back, I can see that it was really the beginning of all the trouble. The horror. The terrifying beverages and how they changed us all. Most of all, those red paper cups whose hypnotic powers no one could have suspected.

I can still see her as if it was only yesterday, holding out a red paper cup to the four of us. It seemed to glow brighter than the rest of the kitchen. We had just come in from school, tired and thirsty. Just how thirsty, we hadn't quite realized.

All of a sudden, I forgot all about that F+ I'd just got on my math test. And the words New Dixie Cup Dispenser started running through my brain over and over. A warm joyful thrill filled me and I felt a huge, kind of stupid smile light up my face like it was Christmas morning and I'd just got that ten-speed bicycle from Sears.

And then I saw that Billy and Bob had stopped fighting about who'd snitched the last Oreo cookie this morning at breakfast. As for Betty Sue - she was about to tell on all of us, because that's what made her real happy at the end of a tough day - well, gosh, even she shut up and just....well, a dreamy, sappy look spread across her face like maple syrup over a pancake. We all felt like that. Wow, Mom - Dixie Cups! In their own little house, too!

Mom held the Dixie cup up for a long time, staring back at us. And then I realized...we were just stuck there. Smiling and staring. Couldn't move a muscle. I heard Mom say, in a new, deep voice: And now you will all go and do your homework, and there will be no fighting! And no fussing. And then later you will enjoy drinking the special drink I have just invented, from these lovely red paper cups.

Dad too? Betty Sue managed to say through her grin. Mom smiled an even bigger smile, and for the first time I felt a little bit scared. Why, yes, Dad too, she said. And then Mom laughed a strange, new, tinkly laugh.

That is, we thought it was Mom...

[Thank you to Retro Ads and Graphics for this wonderful ad (which is featured at the bottom left of the main page). This looks like a late 50s- early 60s vintage one.]

A Mysterious Device

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 14:01:00 +0000

Let's start the week off with a very bad idea from the November 1940 issue of Popular Mechanics: the Electro-Torch, also known as "Mysterious Device." Yes, we all need one of these around the house. Never know when you might need to weld a few iron bars together.

If it really is that mysterious, why would they say that anyone can operate it? And is it really a good idea to make something this powerful - and mysterious - easy to just plug into the nearest light socket?

It comes with a "power unit," goggles and "supplies" - whatever they might be. This is all very vague and - to be honest - worrying.

The First Aid kit and insurance are not included.

[Note: the Electro-Torch Company is based in Chicago, along with so many other odd-product companies, I had to make a special tag for Retro Chicago.]

Ode On A Can Of Old Dutch Cleanser

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 15:31:00 +0000

It's contest time! Old Dutch Cleanser had a contest in 1942 in which one had to complete a little poem in order to win lots of very green money (as you can see, it will make you simper when you hold it close to your face).

OK, so here's what we have to do - we will be filling in the last line of this immortal verse:

"I Like Old Dutch Cleanser"
Said A Housewife named Knight
"It's so safe and so fast

...Though my hands look a fright
...And the sink looks all right
...I'll be done by midnight
...Though the difference is slight
...She's just being polite
...It cleans better than Sprite
...And it doesn't ignite!

There are probably some Knight jokes in there, possibly about the Round Table, but I don't think I can find them right now. I was thinking about Old Dutch Cleanser anyway because I was writing about it over on The Doubletake yesterday - when you win the contest, you'll be so grateful to that Old Dutch Cleanser can, you may want to make it a little sweater. If you do, the pattern is over there.

[From Life, March 30, 1942]

Suddenly...You're Really Cooking!

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 14:17:00 +0000

No wonder they look so - thoughtful. One might almost say, unhappy. Unhappy because their circulation has been cut off by the quilted silver insulating shorts they are cooking themselves in - like roast chickens in the grocery store. Literally cooking, too - for behold, these are Sauna Trim Shorts.

This is the genius creation of Frederick's of Hollywood. The tag line ought to be: It's a sauna party in your pants every day, with Sauna Trim! And if you really were going to get 3 to 6 inches off in a week, you'd probably have to wear that thing all week long. Imagine how much fun that would be! I believe the couple pictured has been wearing them for a at least three days, judging by their expressions.

And they may be planning to get out of the house in their Sauna Shorts, since the picture below shows the woman in a dress with (presumably) the Shorts of Doom underneath. I don't know how that guy is going to get his polyester leisure suit on over the Sauna Shorts, though.

I'm sure that people in 1971 were convinced by this ad - convinced that they would be way better off just... going to the gym.

A Likely Story!

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 13:05:00 +0000

Imagine this: you've just moved to a new neighborhood and you don't know anybody and - gosh, they're having a big party next door with lights and Santa Claus hats and balloons and - gee, Mom, they even probably have cake and stuff over there!

If only if only if only you were invited! But you don't even know who those people are and they don't know you from - well, a hole in the wall. And you don't see many holes jumping off their walls and going out at night, do you?

Then Mom reminds you of your social trump card: that harmonica of yours! Why, you've been taking lessons since - oh, about two weeks ago. And Mom and Dad think you are the swellest of the swell.

Boy, they say, you sound just like a real Professional Harmonica Player. No, really. There really probably are some. And you could definitely be a Professional Harmonica Player when you grow up! And you'd play at Carnegie Hall and everyone would applaud and -

But what was that noise? Why, as soon as you start playing your best piece - a swinging version of "Three Blind Mice" - guess who comes ding-donging at the door? Just the whole darn party, that's all! And they will beg your mom to let you go over there too. Oh please, they will cry, please tell Billy to bring his harmonica!

And boy oh boy, you'd go over and everyone would crowd around you while you tootle out songs. And forever after you'd be the most popular boy in the history of anywhere! Plus everyone else will want a harmonica, too. In fact, they'll want to form a harmonica band! Bet you might not be quite so popular with their parents, but never mind.

Really. It could totally happen. Keep on playing for Mom and Dad and see if someone doesn't come pounding on the door to ask you to go somewhere!

[Many thanks to newhousedesign at Flickr for this gem, which looks like 1930s-40s vintage.]

More Books: The 1930s Home and The 1940s Home

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 23:38:00 +0000

The 1930s Home
by Greg Stevenson
Oxford: Shire Publications, 2009
40 pp.

The 1940s Home
by Paul Evans and Peter Doyle
Oxford: Shire Publications, 2009
48 pp.

These two informative books, companions to The 1950s Home which I reviewed here last week (the link is at the end of this review), give the retro enthusiast a comprehensive look at the British home in the middle decades of the 20th century. Lavishly illustrated with photographs, ephemera and wonderful period advertisements, all three of these books take one through a good overview of British architectural design, house construction, furnishings and decor, and gardens.

The 1930s house, whether a suburban villa, a Moderne bungalow or a "Tudorbethan" mock-historical semi, was a charming blend of old and new styles which still holds up well in today's housing market. Houses were built in quantity for new home-owners who took advantage of good mortgages and good prices. The homes reflected the smaller, servantless households of the 1930s, with fitted kitchens and well-lit, efficient spaces.

The 1940s was, of course, a decade dominated by wartime shortages and hardships. So it is no surprise that a good part of The 1940s House is dedicated to discussing items such as bomb shelters, blackout curtains, and the simple, modern and rather attractive Utility furniture which the British householder could purchase with ration coupons. Though, as Evans and Doyle point out, the 1940s are often remembered as a drab, dull period in house decor and design, this is not entirely so. Shortages forced designers to create furnishings and kitchenware from interesting materials- such as aluminum and plastics. The streamlined look of decor presaged the modern, forward-looking ideals of 1950s design.

I very much enjoyed reading all three of these books and would recommend them to anyone interested in the history of mid-20th century British homes. Stevenson also lists "Places To Visit' and a short bibliography at the end of The 1930s House, which is most helpful. My review of The 1950s House is here, and all of these books may be ordered from Shire Books.