That does sound exciting...With a name like TNT, how could it not be?
This reminds me of one of my favorite I Love Lucy episodes, "Lucy Does A TV Commercial." Lucy is shilling a tonic called Vitameatavegemin, which has vitamins, meat, vegetables, minerals - and a ton of alcohol in it, which she doesn't know about. "Do you pop out at parties? Are you unpoopular? Well, are you?"
Hope your New Year's Eve is as much fun as TNT Popcorn claims to be, and safe too!
Just look what Micro-Fluff has done for this man.
You too can have the same frozen look of utter loopiness, as you hold masses of nylon fibers that mimic velvet pile. And you will also start speaking and writing in capitals, which is fun for you if not for other people nearby.
Sounds terrific, right? So you need to know more - lots more. So let's check out this incredible career opportunity. I think you stand around mostly, like this, holding the fluff. And later, when you're a trained professional - you glue it to things.
Many, many things.
Even the name of the career skill is fun: Flok-Kraft. Pronounce it carefully, boys and girls! No need to giggle and smirk, if you do you might get that Micro-Fluff all over the "basement, garage, attic, service porch or even a card table in your bedroom."
You will be working at home, you see, pasting fluff onto - um, things. You can line silverware drawers with it! Decorate lamps and lampshades! Recover women's party shoes! Line the car trunk! Apply it to toys and other "new objects" thereby increasing their value 500%. Allegedly.
So rush your name and address to Niels Irwin and he will free you from "time clocks and nagging bosses" with masses of "the most amazing material you ever saw." Maybe you're supposed to cover the boss with it, too.
"Every neighborhood needs a FLOK-KRAFTER," you see. Someone needs to velvetize things, right? Like phonograph turntables and wall plaques and instrument cases and...things.
I just know that Kathy the Artex Queen is related to Niels. He must be her dad! Her role model and inspiration. Eventually everyone in their town got involved in decorating things first with Micro-Fluff, then with Artex 20 years later when the velvet wore off. When they had finished covering everything in their town, they all moved on. People in the surrounding areas became afraid, then they too became FLOK-KRAFTERS (or Artexians). Steven King ought to write about this. Unless he's busy up there in Maine - no, it couldn't be...could it?
Willy Wonka, please take note of this. It is all very well to invent a gum that simulates a three-course meal - lthough one would prefer not to pay for the meal by transforming into a giant blueberry. However, Wonka seems to have neglected the possibilities of the cocktail hour - unlike the purveyors of toothpaste, for example.
So into the marketing gap comes Warrens with this mystifying gum. Can chewing gum function as a cocktail? Oh, probably not, they did put "Cocktail" in quotation marks. Just in case we got confused.
Personally, I prefer, say, a whiskey sour or a vodka and tonic that is drinkable. Comes in a glass. Because holding onto a glass - as Margie very well knows! - looks fun and also just gives you something to hang onto. And holding onto a pack of gum just isn't the same.
However, chewing this gum will turn you into a popular singer, it would seem. Although how you are going to belt out a few numbers while chomping on a wad of Mint Cocktail goodness is anyone's guess.
The copy suggests that you will also become a great social success. And that the chomped-upon gum remains full of - and I quote - "zest and zing," even after you've been chewing away like Violet Beauregarde. Oh, and also that everyone is talking about this gum.
If you hold the package up, instead of a drink, when you are out at a holiday party, they won't just be discussing the gum. They'll be talking about you, too. Guaranteed.
Many thanks to Wishbook for this wonderful 1945 advertisement, link here.
One side of this woman's face is pep-free. Dr. Chase thinks it's just a matter of unimproved blood and weariness...but anyone who's up on their horror movies knows better. This woman puts the noir in film noir!
The happy side is careless, which will not end well. It has neglected to inform the dark half about this chance they have to win Lots Of Cash.
That might work wonders. It would make me light up all right.
The Dark Side will want to know what the Happy Side is planning to do with all that money. Is she intending to run off to Brazil? Move to Paris and start buying up lots of jewelry? Will she try and make it as a plucky chorus girl who can really, really sing, on Broadway?
She won't be escaping the Dark Side so easily though. She may think it is gone. She may spoon down a boxful of Nerve Food every day, and for awhile everything is fine. She becomes the understudy to the Big Star. Who of course gets bronchitis on opening night. And then just as she's getting ready to go on - what should she see in the dressing room mirror?
The shadow that no amount of pancake makeup can quite disguise....
Lounging is a good thing, especially right after the holidays. Old sweatpants and hoodies, slippers that look like big plushy black-and-white cows. A few glasses of something bracing. The box of chocolate that is morally OK because you got it as a gift, therefore you must have some.
And then there's the very glamorous Margie Douglas out in LA in the early 1960s...lounging in - this.
Perhaps a cocktail lounge is where you'd find Margie and her magic neckline. I don't think she would be very comfortable lounging around the house in this getup. A skin tight Dynel unitard with a big belt buckle in the back? More than the neckline would need to be magic to get into that thing. And never mind trying to sit down in it.
The magic of the neckline, by the way, is that it always stays in place. No deviations in cleavage! I am sure that once you get this on, nothing's moving around. At all. It must be like you were lounging in iron Spanx. Good times.
This lounger is "exclusively Margie's" - she's even marked it with her initials. That means that either this lady is Margie, or she's borrowing the lounger - she's going to be in big trouble for pinching it! How about the drink, is that Margie's too?
I suppose Margie thinks we will all be able to lie on the sofa watching TV and eating delicious salty snacks in this thing. I just can't see it happening though.
Note: I have just been informed that this is in fact an old photo of my friend Margie over at Margie and Edna's Basement! I am not surprised to see that she was so glamorous - and I want to know what else she had for sale in the "free fashion catalogue"!
******
Thank you to my friend Carol who writes the wonderfully funny She Lives for the Your Blog Is Fabulous award!
In the end it's best to just rip it right out. It's cathartic! There will be new beauty for you, after all.
The Mahler Epilator is here to help. It will bring permanent relief! From all sorts of things.
That sounds ominous. How will an Epilator help relieve this girl of her annoying roommate, her love problems, of the enormous bills she ran up at the beauty parlor? Perhaps the Epilator will march in and demand a refund of her money.
I certainly would.
Also, if you use this thing, you will be charming and have new freedom of mind. Oh, yes you will! You cannot resist the power of the Mahler Epilator.
And yet our heroine looks thoughtful - conflicted, you might say. She looks like charm and freedom of mind are not things she's well acquainted with.
That's the way it is in the film-noir world of beauty. And epilators.
Ad from Cosmopolitan (1966), where you can find all kinds of other things to worry about, too.
Ah, the good old days and the lovely old-fashioned, sensible toys that children used to have back in - well, back in 1907, for example.
How about this little Gas Cannon for your boy? It's practical, lasting, realistic and "positively free from danger." This probably means that it won't break - it's free from danger. Unlike - say - your house, your furniture, and your grandmother's Lowestoft china.
Apparently "it can be fired in the house with absolute security." That's good to know. It fires 20 shots a minute and costs a penny for every 500 shots. All of which ought to take care of the service for twelve.
Extra bonus points to the clever boy who hits the gravy boat head on!
From Popular Mechanics (January 1907), thank you Google Books.
'Twas the night before Christmas, and old Packard Bell
Was aware that it had lots of products to sell:
So it prodded and badgered and advertised stuff
So that nobody felt they'd quite purchased enough.
In the living room, all the best families decree,
One must place a Deluxe Top Front Tuning TV;
There's joking and drama, Lucille Ball and Eve Arden
And Santa's appearing alongside Dean Martin.
A handsome clock radio by Mom's bedside table
Means she'd better get up just as soon as she's able
To wake up from slumber and summon the perky:
Come on, Mom, get busy attacking that turkey!
A Hi Fi for the den with three speakers will drown
Out the portable radio Sis never turns down;
Oh, such a cacophony of laugh tracks and drumming,
Pop music and tele-trash never stops coming -
The neighbors would hate it, but they cannot hear:
They're knee-deep in Packard Bell toys over there.
All hail the electric, come partake if you lack it -
Merry Christmas to all, but please turn down that racket!
******
I wish you all a terrific holiday - whatever you're celebrating - and thank you so much for visiting, for your incredible comments that make me laugh out loud and think (sometimes at the same time, which is quite a trip!) - and all that jazz. May your presents be charmingly impractical, and your dinners delectable - with enough leftovers to preclude cooking for several days.
******
[1956 advertisement from Duke University's Ad Access.]
Is anyone really worrying about whether their toilet feels left out of the holiday festivities? Or that the bathroom suffers from an inferiority complex?
If so, a felt-like lid cover with gold accents is not going to get anywhere near to solving your problems.
Trust me.
The first question that springs to mind is: what is that bear doing in town, window-shopping? Shouldn't he be up at the North Pole, drinking Coca Cola with the penguins and the other bears? Is he with the guys? Are they even aware that there is an enormous bear behind them?
In any case, none of these three should be getting anywhere near tools of any kind.
The boy is eyeing that drill with an excess of glee that is most disturbing. The guy on the right wouldn't know what to do with a drill (or any other tool) if he tripped over it. And from the look of him, that's just a matter of time.
Finally, there's the large, strange, gleeful polar bear. He's definitely about to go in to Miller's Tools with them. He's looking pretty happy about the drill. And about the guys. Either he's got a little home-improvement project up in the Arctic or he's thinking about dinner.
I don't like any of it one bit.
Advertisement from Popular Mechanics, November 1959.
Well, I suppose this is an idea. Not a good idea - just an idea. It looks like an alien Christmas tree, beamed down from another galaxy to terrorize Levittown. They say it "springs to life after dark." It sounds quite terrifying, doesn't it? Let's hope it doesn't start stomping around town, the anti-hero of its own 50s B-movie, crushing commercial blocks and puncturing the big Santa balloons in the Christmas parade.
And according to GE, this is only the beginning. They are talking "exciting year-round effects." Because maybe that Sparkle Tree will - refuse to go away! Yeah, it's April and the poor people in that house can't get it to go back to GE headquarters, or at least into a few packing cases in the garage.
This November 1959 ad is from Popular Mechanics - not Popular Neighbors, obviously.
Apologies for the left margin being a bit curly, it was like that in Google Books as well as when I scanned my copy - which I didn't want to destroy. Anyway, you get the idea.
*********
Note: Thank you so much to my new friend Crystal Raen for the One Lovely Blog award!
She has a fabulous blog and Etsy shop, which I am so glad I discovered through Entrecard.
And thank you also to Vintage Menswear Daily who has just written about that controversial milk bottle caddy we were talking about the other day...I've been visiting this wonderful site ever since I joined Entrecard and it is fantastic. Please do visit them both!
Santa, just a word of unsolicited advice, the kind that people love to give and hate to get:
People might like a few gimcracks! I know that a gimcrack is a gaudy, showy trifle, mainly because I looked it up over here. They just sound so nice and - frivolous, you know, kind of fun and shiny.
And once a year, that could be enjoyable. Not too many gimcracks, of course - there's merit in things like, say, Belgian chocolates and Moleskine notebooks.
It's just that - for heaven's sake, please, please, please do not bring anyone any Colgate's toothpaste.
(I can see it's too late though. Look what's in his bag! He didn't even wrap them up, either.)
Advertisement from 1920, from Duke University's Ad Access.
So you got that milk bottle caddy last Christmas morning, and naturally you would like to give the guy who gave it to you something equally fabulous.
Well, wonder no more, because our friend Arlene - you know, the one who has money for you?- has the answer! At least, I would like to think that this is the same Arlene. It just sounds like her.
So here they are, Nose Hair Scissors: The One Gift Every Man Needs. They are for the man who has everything. Including more nasal hair than a yak.
But if he thinks you like lugging milk bottles - then surely he is the kind of guy who lives to clip nose hair! A match made in heaven. Or, you know, in the toiletries section of the dollar store. Something like that.
Really hairy yet fastidious Doctors (with a capital D!) use it because it is SAFE! It will not attack you, gentlemen. It will not cut or stick, it will not pull or poke or - ugh, do we really need to read that description of what it doesn't do?
Arlene, dear, what sort of men are you meeting out there in Chicago? Maybe you should've stayed in LA. Or New Jersey. Wherever it was that you shilled your Christmas (and Ordinary) Cards.
We have got to take you out to meet some different guys. Ones who don't look like they live rough in the mountains of Tibet.
******
Extra Note: Thank you so much to Jewelgirl and to Melissa for the Proximidade award!
If only Freud had seen this ad, he would not have been asking "What do women want?" Why, they want the Kitco Bottle Caddy, that's what. Or so the Kitco people would have you think.
But it is not an ideal gift for anyone. It is not "wonderful to have." Maybe it would be useful to have - if you picked it up at the hardware store some Saturday morning, along with a bag of road salt and a few lug nuts.
If every gift has a message behind it, this one is not 'I love you' or 'I was thinking about giving you a treat.' No, no. It is, in fact 'I know how much you like juggling cold, dripping slipping milk bottles early in the morning, and this way you can cart around twice as many!'
But stop right here! This is not something you should wrap up in gold paper, put a big red bow on, and present to your wife or mother or sister or daughter or female friend, got that?*
I can't believe that this even needs saying, but at the left is the proof that it does: Kitco-dependent gentlemen of the world, women do not in fact love lugging glass bottles of milk. And they do not love you assuming that this is their job.
All that stuff women say about wanting, for example, a first edition of A Christmas Carol, or a new television, or even something that incorporates diamonds and/or platinum - or whatever else one might want... It was just a roundabout way of asking for a "durable hi-impact styrene caddy." Of course.
The Kitco copywriter must have been drinking something all right - and it wasn't milk.
*If you do, by the way, I know what she's going to be getting you next Christmas - I'll be showing that to you tomorrow.
[This is for the worst-Christmas-present carnival over at Humor Bloggers, by the way. I didn't really get one of these, but it does count as one of the worst prsent ideas I've seen.]
...And may all your Electronic Snowmen be capable of doing Compressed Air Tricks.
Look, so maybe it was a social coup to get a Christmas card from Ike and Mamie. During the Eisenhower era, and all that. OK, OK - I said maybe! But I really don't think that this was going to fool anybody. Even if you stuck right it on the tree. Especially if you stuck it right on the tree. I mean, talk about being obvious. Why not stick all twelve of them on the tree, while you're at it.
If you aim that groovy revolving light at them, people will definitely notice.
Or maybe you'd rather concentrate on the electronic snowman. Now he's an all-around entertainer. He shakes his broom, his head, flashes his eyes. He's got some compressed air in his hat as well, which makes the snowball float over him.
Just give me some supersonic eggnog and I can do all that as well. Except the snowball trick. Unless you've had some of that eggnog, too.
Miss June Valli - the star of this 1954 ad - was known in the 50s for singing soppy songs like "The Wedding" and "Crying in the Chapel." And she was also the voice of Chiquita Banana. When she wasn't skulking around in a Santa outfit clutching a bottle of Halo shampoo, scaring girls who just want to Scrooge around the house in peace.
And by the way, June, honey - that girl is not crying about her horrible hair. It's because you scared the Hail (or Halo) Columbia out of her wearing that awful mask and the red suit and sneaking up behind her like that.
But June is not the only problem this girl has. She hates Christmas, that's what! Because she is having a bad hair month. And she wants to stay home by the fire with a bowl of gruel and bitterness.
Let's take a closer look at this little holiday drama. Cue the closeups!
Looky what Santa brought you, dear: a bagful of insults. First the verbal assault: you're a social pariah because your hair is really ugly and horrible and probably it stinks, too. Oh, and here's a subtle little present. Maybe you've heard of this stuff -
It's called shampoo...
And then June says she already bought the bottle of Halo for herself. Oh fine - a used insult present. After a little hair washing, June will take Scroogette to a party and try to get the boys to notice her.
...And so Scroogette used the magical shampoo. And afterwards her hair was sparkling with "a far brighter sparkle" that it had been before.
Wait - that sort of implies that it was already sparkling. That doesn't make any sense! Hey, wait a minute...No, never mind, the story surges on. It must. Do not stand in the way of the sudsy tsunami of rinse-and-repeat romance:
Careful what you wish for, Miss Valli. Girlfriend has turned into a chattering showoff. Can't stop talking about that hair. It's so shiny she could light up the city of Detroit for a year!
Look June, see what I did? See how I set my hair? Are you looking? Well, are you? Do you like it? Do you? Are you sure?
Miss Sparkle Plenty is filled with the Christmas spirit all right. Christmas punch, that is. Uh oh - now she's singing! June looks tense and worried, hands clasped to her chest. In the last picture she's looking sideways, towards freedom. And silence.
What an exhausting gig the Shampoo Santa thing was. Never again! How do I get out of this cartoon panel?
June can't wait to put that stupid Santa costume back on and make a dash for the nearest chimney. And if that doesn't work, she can pretend to be a big banana. Hey, whatever it takes.
[Advertisement (1954) from the Duke University Ad Access collection.]
That title got your attention, no doubt.
More fabulous Christmas gift ideas from the November 1960 House Beautiful, home of the Gift Box of Idaho Potatoes. Such as the World's Shortest Nightie. Clearly, they have a bunch of full-time comedians on staff at Greenland Studios, and they have been working overtime.
I don't think "discussing how foolish we can be" is a fun topic though. That usually leads to happy hours of dialogue like this:
Yeah, well, leaving the turkey out where the cats could get it, that was pretty lame!
Oh, and like you've never done anything stupid, right? Who left the freezer door open all night, huh? It wasn't me and it wasn't the cats.
That's right, they were too busy eating the leftover turkey!
Also that woman looks like she's turned into a wooden-hanger mermaid. That's not good, is it? And she looks like she's gritting her teeth through that smile.
So let's move on to the whiskey toothpaste. Maybe that'll cheer her up. The ad says that when you start using this stuff you can "start living." Wow, really? So I guess everything up to this point has been just a dress rehearsal.
I don't think mint toothpaste flavored with scotch or bourbon is really going to be all that good, though. Not unless they also sold a mouthwash that tasted like Coke.
I don't even know Arlene, but apparently she has money for me. Why is that, do you suppose?
Maybe she owes me money from way back. I don't think I ever knew any Arlenes, but maybe she changed her name. Or possibly Arlene bought an IOU from somebody I know. Could it be an old gambling debt? I see that she operates on both coasts - LA and Allendale, New Jersey. But I've never been to either of those places. Or gambled.
But this mystery is solved merely by reading the rest of the ad. Arlene just wants me to sell some of her California Christmas cards for her. Santa in shorts, I guess, roller-skating in Venice. Or a bunch of elves coming out of Starbucks with iced ventis. Palm trees with tinsel.
Arlene also sells "everyday cards." Whatever could they be? IOUs, perhaps.
You're On The Rug because being On The Road is kinda messy. And that would spell disaster for those tangerine lounging culottes.
She's like, totally reading Stephen Gaskin's book on the Farm. She's pretending she wants to get back to the land. Only I don't think they have espresso or Sears Perma-Prest loungewear there.
From Good Housekeeping, December 1968.
There certainly are a lot of strange little retro job ads around.
Many of them are make-money-at-home schemes, of course. The jobs aimed at women involve selling greeting cards and stockings, stuff like that. The men all want to be detectives or super-spies through taking a correspondence course (tin badge and big magnifying glass not included). And if they aren't off trying to make like Sam Spade, they want to work with dangerous, possibly explosive materials:
Job #1 (1929) - Amazingly Easy Way To Get Into Electricity. Careful detonating that thing, whatever it is!
Job #2 (1945) - Prepare For Nylon! If you write to these guys, you will get one free outfit and one free stocking. Prepare for one leg to be cold, too.
Job #3 (1972) - No experience needed, huh? Around that big saw? I think experience would be a very good idea.
Job #4 (1966) - Sell Happiness Napkins! Who wouldn't want a napkin that made you happy? You will make a quick $50 with napkins that say really happy things like "Pennsylvania Dutch"(huh?) and "Chuckles and Charm" (but I hate Chuckles...they don't make me happy at all!)
The men with no experience need to step away from the electricity and the saws. Maybe they could sell nylons and napkins and let the women handle the sharp, dangerous stuff. I'd just feel better that way.
Welcome to the second installment of the meme from yesterday, courtesy of Preston at Me and the Blue Skies.
Here are three places: one where I have lived, one I went to on vacation and one I want to go and visit right now (hint: it isn't the post office, the mall or the subway!).
The first place is Philadelphia. So here is the Philadelphia Raisin Seeder - for all your raisin-seeding needs. It was patented in 1897, here's the link if you must know more. And you would not believe how many other patents there are for raisin seeders in the 1890s! I think I may have stumbled on some strange socio-culinary issue here. Future post on the history blog, perhaps.
I lived near here, a long time ago, quite near. Near Philadelphia, that is. Not the raisin seeder.
And I wasn't all that enterprising.
Next we have a place I went once on holiday. Not bath as in the bathtub, though that can be a vacation. Of sorts. No - Bath, England.
We went to a bookstore. I think. And on the way there we saw the outside of the famous Bath Baths. And there was a nice cup of tea involved at some point too (it is always, always a nice cup of tea in England). Now that's intrepid traveling. Add in a youth hostel and a camera shot of a full moon, and you've got yourself a Lonely Planet episode!
Please note in the 1930s guidebook ad, on the right, that if you do go to Bath, and have more exciting adventures than we did - you can get an actual chess piece to move things for you. Get it? Moving things around like in the game of chess. Mind you, if they move your furniture the way I play chess, you'd end up without anything to sit on.
Now finally, here's where I want to go. Nobody said it had to be in 2008. I'm going to Switzerland in 1913 for a restorative vacation. And believe me, they would know how to look after people from the future who were exhausted yet overstimulated by mall muzak and brightly lit racks of DVDs in Best Buy and being packed into the subway like a - well, like a raisin in a Philadelphia Raisin Seeder.
Now this is my kind of place!
Private Suites With Bath and Dressing Rooms. Absolute tranquility secured by double passages. Most beautiful views of lake and mountains! Most Modern Sanitary and Ventilating arrangements.
Oh good. I want to be well ventilated!
But wait...what is all this about "daily concerts by the Milan Orchestra" -? Somehow this does not fit in with the absolute tranquility.
I may have to have a word with the manager.
****
The Philadelphia ad is from my pals at Duke University. They don't know me, but they are my pals! The other two images are from guidebooks that were lying around here. And today's lousy-pun-in-the-title is explained over here.
And tomorrow, the final meme installment: 4 Weird Retro Jobs!
Bad pun, great Clairol ad from 1946. Apparently they only make the "rarest colors in nature," like silver blond - a color so rare that I have never seen it.
Well, the model on the right says she has it, but that's only because she used Moongold. Because her friends at Clairol told her to. Which is no doubt why she looks so ecstatic.
I personally have not seen true 'silver blond' in nature. Unless it's a euphemism for grey, in which case yes I have, there's some on my head.
But anyway...The link here is that meme and dream rhyme. Oh, I told you it wasn't any good! Things will get better once I finish the Christmas shopping, I promise.
Which leads us to part two...
Preston passed along a meme to me recently which I am going to adapt somewhat in a kitschy, retro way. I'll give you the original rules and invite you all to do it too, if you like.
Here's the original meme:
1. 4 jobs you've had
2. 4 movies you can watch any time
3. 4 places you've lived
4. 4 TV shows you loved
5. 4 places you've vacationed
6. 4 novels you've enjoyed rereading
7. 4 websites you visit often
8. 4 places you'd like to be right now
Here's what I'm going to do:
1. I'll do a post on 4 weird retro jobs,
2. And one featuring retro ads and/or postcards from one place I've lived, one place I've been to on vacation, and one I want to go to.
The TV shows, movies and novels I can tell you about in a minute - they're at least partly retro, as you will see. And I can tell you four websites that I really like too. In other words: half the meme here, and then two more posts derived from it.
4 TV Shows: I Love Lucy, The Honeymooners, Blackadder and A Bit of Fry and Laurie
4 Movies: On the Town, Casablanca, Wings of Desire, A Series of Unfortunate Events. Bonus movie that I forgot to add: A Hard Day's Night (how could I forget it? I've only watched it about seventy-jillion times)
4 Novels: Bleak House, The Secret History, A Dark-Adapted Eye, The Edible Woman
4 Websites: These are reference sites, there are too many blogs that I love and I couldn't possibly choose only 4, therefore:
Wikipedia
New York Public Library Digital Gallery
Brooklyn Public Library Brooklyn Collection
Duke University Digital Collections
Speaking of which...the ad is from the ever-dreamy Duke University Ad Access collection.
I'll do the postcard post and the weird jobs post later on this week. I also have some more ads that Jamie and Amy and Eve have sent me - you guys are so nice!
And we also have some holiday-type things to look at. I'll see you later, I have got some posts to write (and shopping to do, but I'd rather not do that).
And PS: I don't know where my Smiley things went! They are still in my template but I think maybe they ran off to the Caribbean for a little winter holiday. Pretty clever, those little smileys! I expect them back as soon as I can get in touch with them.
Yesterday we saw the strange connection between war bonds and constipation. The fun continues today with a weird 1942 ad that makes using Kotex look like an act of patriotism. Bet you never knew it was.
Sister looks like me after a day of Christmas shopping. It's rough out there, no kidding. The crowds, the endlessly annoying holiday music (ask Jenn if you don't believe me!), the store amnesia born of mounting fatigue ("What was it I came in for again? No idea!")
But Sister is doing far better things than looking for overpriced bath gel and digital whatsits. She's making navy helmets (is she knitting them, perchance? or does she have a little welding torch out in the garage?). She's got bandages to make, and a Defense Stamp Luncheon too. Those Defense Stamps are a bit chewy, so she'll need her energy.
Oh, and she's also teaching the armed forces how to wear frilly aprons and hold mixing bowls. That's a lot of work right there.
She keeps telling herself "Snap out of it!" Because a "faceful of frowns" is just not on. Kotex, of course, to the rescue. I'll spare you the accolades Kotex heaps upon itself. It's divine, basically. And it'll make Sister feel like she just won the lottery and found the Koh i Noor diamond in the pocket of an old dress at the back of the closet.
I have a better idea, actually. Sister needs to take some time off. And maybe some Rennies, too. I'll bet anything those Defense Stamps are giving her indigestion.
Image from the Duke University Ad Access collection, and if you click on the link you can see the larger image and read the whole drama yourself.
Sue, you used to be such a lemonhead before you started in with this Nu Jol stuff. I swear, I was about ready to bean you with that skillet. Groaning all day long about the chores! Telling everyone I made you wear dresses made out of old dishrags and do the heavy cleaning...And to think it was only a case of constipation!
I certainly do feel perky! It's just that - I wish you wouldn't keep mentioning how - well, cross - I used to be.
Cross? Why you were such a grumpy gal you made Olive Oyl look relaxed. Cross doesn't even begin to cover the way you were before we found Nu Jol at the store!
Do you suppose they mean New and Jolly, Ann? Why, I'm sure that's what that means. Cunning of them, I guess. A little over-the-top though.
A little over-the-top? Why you were over the top and halfway to Missouri with the yelling and screaming and complaining and - oh yes. By the way! We mustn't forget to talk about buying war bonds. Buy war bonds! War bonds!
That's a good idea, changing the subject, like they do at the bottom of the ad. War bonds are very good because -
Sue, now,don't drop that plate! If I had a quarter for every plate you used to throw I'd be as fancy as the Duchess of Windsor! I'll bet she doesn't even have to do the dishes! I'll bet she has a few fancy clothes in her fancy closet! And I'll bet she -
I'll bet she gets wrought up sometimes herself, dear...Seriously, Ann - why don't I just run and get you that Nu Jol, all right?
You know, I used to have to eat Underwood ham back in the 1960s when I was a kid. It was salty pinkish paste, more of a kindergarten art supply than a food.
So I don't think that anyone has any interest in those sandwiches. And there's definitely no need to retreat to the far end of the scaffolding.
There is something the matter, that's true. The Underwood ham is just a symptom, though.
As Kay Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams, she found that her head had been transformed into a giant package of Hostess Snowballs.
She tried to move her head from side to side and heard the crinkle of cellophane. And when she tried to fluff up her hair, she felt a cardboard sleeve and two gigantic coconut-covered confections, that had apparently broken into her room, done something with her head, and taken over the rest of her body.
"But I don't want to be a walking advertisement for ersatz sponge cake!" she cried in existential despair.
"Where did a glamour gal like you ever learn a word like 'ersatz'?" Kay heard a voice answering her, and realized that it was the Hostess cakes that had spoken.
And so Kay and the strange Hostess cakes continued to speak, somehow, although neither had a mouth at this point. (Cue the willing suspension of disbelief.)
"And as for the jokes I'm going to have to hear! All that stuff about my two well-stacked Sno-Balls. The snickering. The innuendos. The endless slang expressions that associate food with sex! Frankly, I don't think I can take it," said Kay to the giant Hostess package.
"Yeah, but everyone's insecure about their looks, you know that," said the Hostess package, trying to check itself out in the mirror.
"Of course I know it, you stupid cake! How am I supposed to go out and be glamorous like this? How am I going to attract a higher type of guy when I look like the display case at Berger's Budget Bakery?"
"We already thought of that," said the Hostess Sno-Balls. "And have we got a guy for you! Not a player either. A smart guy. A writer. You know, the kind who'll respect you for what's inside your head."
"Yeah, well - what's inside my head happens to be heavily sweetened shaving cream. What kind of writer is he anyway?"
"A foreign, intellectual, brooding one. Oh, you'll like him. In fact, he goes for girls just like you! Kafka's the name - Franz Kafka."
******
Many thanks to Janet at Found In Mom's Basement, which is where I first saw this ad-
And many thanks also of course to Roadsidepictures at Flickr, who found the Snowball woman and put her up on Flickr.
Well, it's Friday. And so you know what that means, don't you? It's Amami Night!
It's all the hair-washing excitement of New Year's Eve - times ten! You'd have thought stuff that is made of pure gold would be a little more expensive. But Amami is a bargain at 3 cents a week.
Warning: it may not be real gold. It is probably just - shampoo.
But it does an awful lot for your "dull tired hair" - makes it "radiant and full of life." That makes sense - when I'm dull and tired, gold has the exact same effect on me! But I prefer mine in the form of jewelry or coins, thanks.
The lady on the right does not look convinced about this Amami stuff. She's brooding about something. And brooding is really more of a Sunday Night activity. At least her hair looks happy. Happy is defined here as shiny sausage curls pinned tightly to your head.
Thank you again to Amy for this wonderful 1940s ad.
It isn't just the womenfolk who need to chow down on a cake or two of delicious Fleischmann's Yeast. It's just that good for the intestines - apparently. In case you were wondering.
No, you weren't? Didn't think so. But listen up, anyway - especially any civil engineers who might be reading.
That guy in the ad is a civil engineer, it just so happens. And he feels much, much better ever since he started chomping on yeast cakes. Two or three a day. It's the on-the-go snack all right.
Now this guy gained 14 pounds in 9 weeks, so - maybe you won't want to start this health regime around the holidays. Or you could substitute something else that would make you gain 14 pounds in 9 weeks. How about some eggnog and a few gingerbread houses? In which case it would be 14 pounds in 9 days, probably.
But the eggnog and gingerbread would not be as good because the yeast, you see, is a fresh corrective food.
Now how many things that you eat can you say that about? Fresh, maybe. I mean, I hope so. As long as it doesn't sass you too much while you're trying to digest it. But truly corrective foods are a little harder to find.
Now you might be asking: just how much will the yeast be correcting me? And will it be doing this in front of other people?
Will it say: No no, that's not the right way to tell that joke! It goes: one night a rabbit, a frog and a moose walked into a bar. Not an elk. We've been through this before! How run down are you again, exactly?
It may correct you but it is NOT a purgative, nope, no way. All the rest of the civil engineers down at the - the civil engineering place, I guess - are glad to hear it.
But wait - there's more! It also inspires no "sudden violent action."
Well, not unless you insist on telling that moose joke again.
******
Thank you Louise for the fabulous ad! Louise writes two wonderful blogs, Months of Edible Celebrations and Come to a Kettle Drum - both well worth checking out.
And if you want to check out the rest of what looks like the Fleischmann Yeast Follies around here, here they are, but don't say I didn't warn you, intestines are involved! -
The Secret of Happy Ingewanden
Yeast of Eden
For the rest of the week I am going to be writing about ads that some wonderful friends have sent along to me. Many many thanks for the kitsch and retro inspiration -
To Louise at Months of Edible Celebrations for more Fleischmann's Yeast shenanigans, coming later this week!
And also to Amy at I Love Retro Things, for some fabulous 1940s ads from New Zealand,
To Janet, who kindly said I could go over to Found In Mom's Basement and borrow some ads,
And last but definitely not least, to my pal Eve Cleveland at that'sfunnybecause who has sent along all manner of astonishing retro ads, including today's offering:
Well, I don't know about you, but if I were this lady, I wouldn't be in such a hurry to unlock that door. Doubt. Inhibitions. Ignorance. That's quite a party you have going on in there, sir. Hope Lucille has a bottle of whiskey on hand. We're all going to need some pretty soon.
This ad reminded me of the Ladies' Home Journal feature "Can This Marriage Be Saved?" in which the wife, the husband and then the Counselor all speak in turn. It is illustrated, always, with a photo of a man and woman caught in mid-shout or turned in opposite directions with folded arms and grumpy faces.
Time for a slightly more dramatic photo op with Dave and Lucille...
LUCILLE: It all started when he began reading all of my women's magazines - this one especially [Editor's Note: LHJ denies all responsibility]. He was obsessed with the hygeine ads. I never saw it coming. First he wanted me to take baths in turpentine. I said, think again buster! Then I had to scrub myself with a Chore Boy like I use on the dishes. No can do. He got really mad when I threw out the Old Dutch gift set he gave me for Christmas. Then two weeks later I came home from the market and he's locked himself in the spare room.
DAVE [in muffled voice]: Everything was so perfect when we were first married. She kept everything so nice and clean. But then I started seeing dust bunnies everywhere. And Lucille - she's like a dust bunny to me, too! It's a function of her basic hostility to me, I think. But one thing I do know is, I'm not coming out of here unless she uses the Lysol. Otherwise, forget it! Just slide my clean shirts and some sandwiches on thin bread under the door. I hate peanut butter, by the way.
COUNSELOR: Well, peanut butter isn't the only thing Dave hates! [chuckles] This was a pretty challenging case for me. We had a magazine deadline so I had to scramble a bit. It wasn't easy having therapy sessions when the husband and wife were literally in different rooms. I had to shout through the keyhole sometimes [laughs]. Finally we got them to see that they were both to blame for this marital crisis.
You see, Lucille was brought up in a family that regards Lysol as something you clean the floor and bathroom porcelain with. She found it a little bizarre of Dave to insist that she use it in terms of, ahem, personal hygiene. We tried to make her feel more relaxed about trying new products, perhaps not Lysol exactly...to see it as a nice gesture Dave would appreciate. If and when he comes out of the spare room.
As for Dave, we couldn't hear much of what he was saying. We're just working on trying to get him to slide that key under the door.
Anger, time management issues, wasteful wantonness, social intrigue - oh, and a lazy drain. All the elements of a good thriller, or a 1930s household-product ad. The choice is yours!
You just know she's not telephoning to save time, really. It's because she doesn't want to go over to see dear old Phyllis and play bridge.
"Phyl, I'd just love to see you but I am so so busy! There is just too much to do around here!"
There is, in fact, at least one drain that is clamoring for her attention. Bubbling ominously, as if clearing its metaphorical throat. Ahem, lady. I've about had it up to here! Better do a little cleaning. For once in your life. Get off the phone already!
But does madame hang up the receiver and get on with it? She does not.
She wastes some more time waiting for the lazy old drain. They're quite a pair, her and the drain. Each one waiting to see what the other will do.
Then she gets mad at the drain. Darn old drain. Darn old sludgy old waste water!
And then one day...she met a can of Drano. It saves the day - and the drain. It "saves everyone's time and temper," too - everyone? This must be some family.What fun it must be to visit them. Go over, stand around, watch the drains. Then see the hosts lose their tempers, one by one.
On second thought, maybe Phyllis was actually calling to cancel the bridge game.
But post-Drano, life is infinitely better. It always is. So now it's high time our heroine looked into why her head is completely out of proportion to her body.
And why, in the last picture, she appears to be pouring Drano on the floor. This suggests that the ultimate problem may reside with brains rather than drains.
Difficult people on your Christmas shopping list? Maybe they are tough to find presents for. Maybe they are just difficult in general.
Either way, this might be the perfect solution. "Of course!" you'll say. "Why didn't I think of a box of potatoes?"
This fabulous offer is from the November 1960 House Beautiful - a magazine crammed with bizarre present ideas (in other words, I'll be scanning just about the whole thing and posting them too).
Seriously, I'll bet you never thought of giving someone a box of baking potatoes. Did you? Well, this is the first time that they were even available in the beautiful gift box. With a ribbon, too!
Think how thrilled everyone will be on Christmas morning to see what's in the big old gift-wrapped box. And surprised! Don't forget surprised.
And then next year you can get them some sour cream.
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