Get This Party Ended

Uh, no. I will NOT get you another Gin and Anything.

You have done enough smoking and nibbling. And if you do any more gabbing the remaining three guests behind you will leave. After they have finished laughing behind your back.

Let’s just put this guy in a cab, OK?

But what if he’s the host, ordering his wife to bring him another Fleischmann’s?

Then she can have the cab.

Happy Shiny Button People

More strange gifts for women! But this advertisement comes with a caution. Look what happens when you give a girl the jauntily-named Buttoneer! She will become a crazed button fanatic, stapling them to every avaiable surface - with the unfortunate results you see above. That poncho must weigh a ton, never mind if she whirls around and the poncho hits some innocent bystander.

Clearly, this is a younger version of Kathy, before she settled down in the suburbs with a big case of Artex.

We are all encouraged to attach many, many buttons to “a whole closetful of great-looking fashions.” And told that “with a little imagination and the Buttoneer button attacher, anything is possible.” Yeah, that is what this girl’s friends are worrying about. Anything is possible! She will be sneaking into their houses and attacking their closetfuls of great-looking fashions. Formerly great-looking, that is to say.

And then they will all be as one - the Button People! Doesn’t that just sound very 1970s? I’ll bet they go around singing about being happy, too. And handing out lots of buttons.

Beard and Circuses

Eureka! You too can escape the sideshow life with help from the amazing Mr. Dorenwend of Toronto - purveyor of the “Eureka” Hair Destroyer.

That is quite a before picture. Isn’t that Ulysses Grant in a fancy dress? What’s he doing up in Canada, anyway!

If I were Mr. Dorenwend’s PR person I would advise him not to use the tag line “A Quick Shave” though, it implies that the Eureka stuff isn’t quite strong enough without a little follow up with a razor.

For more Dorenwend amusement, see Madame Boudoir and friend here.

The 1960 Winner of the Worst Romantic Gift Contest

Garbage and the method of its disposal is not a traditional sort of aphrodisiac. Or any kind of aphrodisiac, unless one is speaking of pigs in the farmyard.

Or perhaps of the lovely couple in this 1960 ad, who are so aroused by something called the In-Sink-Erator (ugh) that they can’t leave it in the kitchen (I believe it goes in or under the sink, judging from the name). Forget the champagne, the chocolates, the mood music. This is what really gets you going.

The ad is addressed to the guy - because as we all know, the guy is the one buying the household stuff, right? And what a saucy ad it is! She’ll want to thank you three times a day, eh?

I think that the operative word here is “want” - she’ll want to, but probably she won’t or can’t. Too much garbage to dispose of, maybe. Too much other housework (you need to buy her more machines!). Or maybe - just maybe - she can’t really, ahem, thank you because the damn In-Sink-Erator is in the way!

Or maybe she isn’t thanking you because she read the rest of the ad. It “frees the little woman from disagreeable trips to the garbage can,” from garbage “trudgery”!

I’m sure she loves being called the little woman! And she also must just love the picture of her life as endless trudging to and from the garbage. How romantic.

I doubt that the model in the ad does much trudgery, though. That’s a mighty fancy outfit you have on, madam! Just mind the In-Sink-Erator looming in the foreground, won’t you?

And your little man seems to have turned into the In-Sink-Erator…Or it is somehow taking him over.

Not going there on a Monday morning, that’s for sure. We’ll just leave it at that, shall we?

P.S. You can still get one of these, link here. Just so you know!

Bobby Is Emulsified

No, Bobby, surely you don’t object to Mother’s emulsified nose drops! She fixes you with that steely smile, grasping your chin in her visor grip.

Mother bears a strong resemblance to the young Joan Crawford. It - it couldn’t be, could it? Joan would’ve used this stuff, I think. “Extraordinarily effective,” indeed. I’ll just bet they are. Look at the smile on Bobby! He’s been emulsified for some time now.

And why are they compaing the nose drops to - ew- fresh cream? Imagine the terrifying cooking mistakes Joan might make.  Or are they mistakes?

Hat Trick

Another day, another 1970s era suburban think tank. Or drunk tank.

So “more than sixteen and a half million bottles of VP will be opened,” huh? Well, here’s where most of the bottles were opened.

And VP also wants you to know that its primary virtue is that it is - well, cheap. Really cheap! It’s the drink we can all afford - even if we are the kind of morons who go out and spend ridiculous amounts of money on really stupid-looking hats.

Say, how much was that hat anyway? I suspect that no matter what the tweed-turtleneck woman paid, it was no bargain! They should have paid her to take the hat away. (And what’s with that tweed turtleneck, anyway? Was that a bargain, too?)

Well, at least her friends have some advice! Sort of.

The woman in the middle, who is on her second bottle of VP, and has also bought a stupid hat, is urging her on: “Go on! He’ll love it!” What does she mean, go on? It’s already been bought - signed, sealed and delivered! I guarantee you there’s a no-return policy on this hat. The shop never, ever wants to see it again. Can’t you just see them after closing time, having a laugh? Hope she comes back soon, there’s some more stuff in the back we can’t unload!

The third woman doesn’t care about anything but the VP. And after another glass she is going to tell her friend just how silly her new hat is. That’ll be really fun!

And not only is VP cheap, if you drink enough of it, you can hear the bottle talking to you. It is, apparently, obsessed with its own price. It probably feels left out of the conversation. It should stop talking about itself and do a little magic trick. Like pull a bottle of VP out of one of the hats. They’ll be listening to whatever that bottle is saying then!

In answer to Amy’s excellent question in the comments - VP stands for Vine Products (though I do wish it stood for Vile Plonk). Here is the link to a 1940s ad for this stuff - thank heavens you could get it despite the wartime rationing!

Madame Boudoir Guarantees (And Sees) All!

It was hard being a glamorous lady in the 1880s (well, it’s hard to be in any era, I think - but let’s just say the 1880s because that’s when these ads were around), what with the tight-lacing and the endless layers of clothing in the middle of summer, and buttoning your boots with button-hooks.

But today, let’s talk about how you, the fashion plate of the 1880s, want hair on your head, but not so much growing out of your chin.

Fortunately the Ladies’ Journal had advertisers ready to help with both issues. First, the fabulously-named Madame Boudoir wanted to assist with your “superfluous hair.” And unlike her competitors’ preparations, hers would not have the reverse effect of “destroying your face.”  Err…what were those other folks putting in their depilatories? Never mind, I don’t really want to know…

I am sure that Madame Boudoir could help with all kinds of problems, with a name like that. She should have had an advice column, or manufactured lingerie. Or perhaps she could predict the future - she could use Mr Dorenwend’s wig stand as a crystal ball!

Speaking of which…we need to think about a gorgeous wig for the top of your head. And for your wiggy needs we have Mr. Dorenwend (who made so many other things I am going to write a series on him for my history blog this fall - also he was tangentially involved in a murder trial in Toronto, as a witness, which really is a story for that other blog)…

It’s good for everybody, that wig on the stand! I especially love how Dorenwend’s is a Paris Hair Works, even though:

(a) The Dorenwends were originally from Germany,

(b) The Hair Works were in Canada,

(c) But not in Paris, Ontario.

Madame Boudoir was clearly aiming for a French effect, with a name like that. Perhaps she was the mastermind behind this. Speaking of face-destroying.

Flirtation Walk Sandals

If it’s Thursday, there must be many wonderful Vintage Thingies around, thanks to the Apron Queen and all the amazing bloggers who showcase their fab retro thingies - do check them out, it is tons of fun and I always learn something cool.

Today I want to show you something I found in one of the dusty old bookstores I dragged my dear family into on vacation. It’s a good thing we had a supply of wet wipes to clean hands afterwards, that’s all I’m saying. This 1930s vintage knitting pamphlet was languishing in a pile of stuff in a store in upstate New York. And it was rather hellish to scan on my teeny scanner, so I did the best I could. Most of the slippers were pretty boring, they look like things you can make now - but the sandals! Crocheted sandals with little knitted dolls on them - how can one possibly resist such tricky and bizarre things?

Flirtation Walk was a 1934 movie starring Dick Powell and Ruby Keeler. It was apparently a romantic musical set in Hawaii. I don’t think Ruby was wearing things like these sandals in Hawaii, do you? All that sand would be really hard to get out of yarn (not that this stopped the 1960s-1970s crocheted bathing suit fiasco, but that’s for another post).

And look, see, it is a boy doll and girl doll on the sandals - too bad they’re not in Hawaiian costumes. Why not crochet a little hula skirt, since you’re spending so much time on these things anyway! They look like voodoo dolls. Oh dear - maybe they are. (No wonder the black and white photo girl looks a tad worried…)

“Most attractive for House or Terrace” - that’s intriguing. Don’t wear them on the porch or to go grab the newspaper from the mailbox. You may only step outside in these IF you are in possession of a terrace.

Where do the Lily Mills yarn people think I am living, Tracy Lord’s mansion in The Philadelphia Story ? I think she had a terrace (Tori will let me know if I am way off base here).

But Tracy would probably not knit and wear these amazing sandals, would she? And Katharine Hepburn or Grace Kelly? That I would love to see!

LATER THAT WEEK…Thanks to Shay, who pointed out that Flirtation Walk is actually set at West Point - which is nowhere near Hawaii. Though it sounds like a bit of it is set in Hawaii. But then they all go to West Point.

Kathy’s Excellent Artex Adventure

“It’s almost unbelievably easy to do your own thing - beautifully - with Artex Paints.” Yes, we can see that.

This mid-1970s ad features a lady with a little too much time on her hands - and way too many Artex Paints. What hasn’t she left her sinister mark on? Nothing is safe in that house! Her daughter’s jeans - while the poor kid is wearing them, while she’s trying to talk on the phone - Mo-om! What are you doing!

Grandma - who has been relegated to the housework - finds that her tablecloth has also been drawn on. She is trying to look pleased, without much success. Try harder, dear - Kathy will be very upset if you fail to find joy in her Artex magic! And heaven only knows what she’ll attack next, if she gets - upset…

Mr. Kathy, who seems to be a thirtysomething David Cassidy clone, has boldly brought his bicycle into the living room. That is a big no-no, David! You will be punished with a silly design on your denim shirt.

The baby, though - what the hell did the baby do to deserve Artex all over her birth certificate? Or is that weird rag doll under the certificate - the baby? Kathy brought it home and told everyone that was their new sister.

There were a lot of Kathys around 30-odd years ago, apparently - they had “Artex Adventure Groups” (shudder!) and went around, no doubt, wreaking havoc in the form of  Ball Point Painting. On suburban mailboxes. On the ranch houses of noisy, annoying neighbours. Perhaps in stores that failed to stock the right kind of craft supplies…

The pillows at the top are a subtext - see how one points a desperate arrow at the terrible paintings, and the other cries “STOP”? Succinct, yet so, well, obvious. Yes - please, please, STOP.

But look at Kathy - you think she’s going to abandon her excellent Artex Adventure? No way, José!

It’s like a whole new subculture, little-known, seldom talked about - this is evidence, right here in the middle of a Good Housekeeping Needlecraft magazine! Could be there’s a cultural anthropology article in here, somewhere. Somewhere - under all that paint.

Everything I Know I Learned From A 1940s Kotex Ad

I thought you might like some more “Are You In the Know?” fun!

This advertisement is full of useful information. Just like the first one, it is divided into three vignettes which cover all sorts of situations a 1940s gal might find herself in:

Vignette #1: Procuring A Date

OK, well - yes. Your “steady freddy” (pardon me while I gag a little into my lacy handkerchief here) wants you to - and I quote - “procure a date for his pal.” That sounds a little dubious. I thought that procuring was against the law, Kotex Ad People!

Suave Sally knows this. She can take care of herself with Dangerous Dan there. But surely this is not Suave Sally in the picture. This is the “numb number” or possibly “a character from the carnival.” That’s a nice thing for a friend to call a friend - a numb number! Lovely!

Actually I think if it was me I would set the guy up with the character from the carnival - preferably a scary clown in big pants.

Vignette #2: Tipping A Hostile Waiter

Oh, yes - the waiter with the “why don’t you do right look,” Mr. Spock ears and a crewcut. We all hate getting that “why don’t you do right” look. It sounds like a line from a country-and-western song, doesn’t it?

This waiter seems to have an agenda of some kind though. Don’t drink that last coffee refill!

And the Kotex connection? Special service from the waiter = extra tip…special service from Kotex = ugh, what, am I supposed to do, give the Kotex a tip? Bleh, maybe that’s why the lady looks so - uncertain.

Vignette #3: The Hat-Snatcher

Well, what in hell do you do when Marge grabs your new satin-net-and-feather creation and jams it right on her head with never a by-your-leave?

Options above: Lend it, Resent it, Feel flattered.

Actually this is a trick question: the answer is, don’t let her do it! Somebody stop that hat-grabber! She has dandruff and grease on her head! What delightful friends the Kotex ladies have - numb, greasy, dandruffy. Well, Sally is suave, at least. That’s something.

I have some other answers to the hat-snatching question. These are the PMS-fueled options:

1. Snatch it back.

2. Tell her never to darken your door, or your hats, again.  Then start screaming uncontrollably.

3.  Have at her with your best hatpin.

It is a “whammy chapeau” after all (did people really talk like this in the 1940s?). A whammy chapeau! Does this mean it is made out of Wham? In which case, you know what, Marge can help herself.