Knit Wits, Part 2: The Old College Try

Today's charming knitting sensation is this Vintage McCall's Fall/Winter 1957-58 Needlework Magazine, apparently aimed at the modern college student. Uh huh. I understand that the 50's college kid is a totally different beast than today's college kid, But some of this stuff is...questionable, for any 18-22 year old. Unless 5-year-olds went to college in the 50's, then yes, this magazine is ideal. So let's see what the Modern College Student was into...



"Hi, I'm Jackie! I'm a Typical Modern American College Student! Also, I'm just a girl, so anything I say shouldn't be taken too seriously. Welcome to my dorm room! LOOK at all this GLORIOUS crap! While I'm in my dorm room studying to become one of the only 3 professional jobs suitable for women: a stewardess, secretary or nurse, I like to knit childish things for my room, so that one day I'll be a pro at knitting baby booties and blankets, since no woman actually uses her degree after college but instead marries young and becomes a housewife. Perhaps you'd enjoy making this useless, larger-than-life caterpillar, for no particular reason? Or this useless Egyptian-inspired embroidered cat wall hanging? Or this useless little Santa...type..doll...thing...I don't even know what it is...but it's cute, right? And that's what the Typical Modern American College Student likes, right? Oh I don't know. All this thinking makes my head hurt. I better go buy a new hat, since that's what a girl does. That, and knit another life-size critter to put on my bed with the rest of my widdle animals! Bye, all!

It's My Party And I'll Complain If I Want To

It's friday and you know what that means? It should be the return of Aqua Blue Heaven Fridays but I'm forgoing that theme today until next week and I better give a good excuse why. So I will. Today is my birthday and my damn crappy friends and family want to actually do stuff with me today. Jerks. Today's a day I'd rather not acknowledge, like at all, but rather sleep through and wake up and it be tomorrow morning, so the whole wretched day would be so 24 hours ago. How old am I, you ask? I wish I could say I was 25. So I will. I'm 25 today. No. Seriously. Plus 8. See? Told ya.

So instead of the traditional friday aqua theme, I'm posting some random vintage photos from the 40's to 50's of random people I don't know doing random things at parties and galas and balls and whatnots and gettin' down with their bad selves who are probably all dead by now but that's OK we didn't know them anyway and come to think of it they're probably still having more fun than I. Good mood, you say? Naturally. Enjoy!




Throughout the course of this evening, you've all been breathing in toxic fumes from the air vents that will kill you within the next hour. In those balloons above you is the antidote. There are 100 of you, but only 50 balloons. You will have 1 minute to get a balloon and save your life. Enjoy the rest of the party!




I love this picture, if for no other reason than because someone smuggled in a flask to the party. Reminds me of high school. And that company party I had to go to last week. And right now as I type this.





It's funny that he thinks I'm actually going to sleep with him tonight. Weee!





Get down girl, go 'head get down.





Alright, someone take Grandma's Harvey Wallbanger away!





No, no, you guys don't look stupid at all. Oh come on, no one will even remember this by tomorrow. I promise to burn this photo after I get the film developed. I swear.

The Real 50's Housewives of Compton

It was just as Loretta had suspected. She couldn't wait to run and tell the rest of the "Duncan Hines Ho's" in the neighborhood that their worst fears, next to the Red Menace, was that they had indeed been infiltrated with a spy from a rival suburban gang. Right in front of her eyes she saw the "Betty Crocka Thugs 4-Life" tattoo on Connie's lower back. Bitch better go to sleep with her eggbeater tonight. First we cut you, then we whip you up a nice souffle. Duncan Hines Ho's represent. What! What!



Vintage 50's Simplicity Designer's Pattern 8288 available from Kickshaw.

Way-Out Wednesday: Ooh, That Smell. Can't You Smell That Smell?

It's Wednesday and you know what that means: it's Way-Out Wednesday! (And shish kabob night, FYI.)

First, let me address the fact that I'm not sure why my entry yesterday for Atomic Tuesday didn't show up. I scheduled it to post at a certain time, because I knew I would be gone all day yesterday, then early this morning I see my post didn't...well, post. Lesson learned: Blogger's scheduling function sucks.

What do you guys think: Should I post Atomic Tuesday's entry today? Or just say fark it, since it'll be all out of order and we hate when things are out of order and just wait until next week? Does anyone even really care that much about Atomic Tuesdays to necessitate having a discussion of it's whereabouts? And would anyone like to come over for shish kabob night? And what's the capital of Luxembourg? And why do birds suddenly appear every time you are near? And who put the bomp in the bomp bah bomp bah bomp? That's what I thought.

Today's Way-Out Wednesday pic isn't creepy or freaky or gross or any of the things I normally like. But it does leave many questions up in the air. Witness, the very cool but very mysterious, these:




The seller isn't even entirely sure of their function but calls them TOTALLY WILD 1940s PAPER SCENTED BRA CLOSET SACHETS OSS UNUSED." And don't blame me for the all-caps, I'm not screaming at you, but apparently the seller is.




Here's the thing, if the boobs were filled with potpourri, then they'd totally be sachets for your drawer. That would be awesome. Lavender-filled bras! But the boobs are wood. The whole thing is wood. So I guess back in the 40's you'd have to spray some sort of smelly thing on it and then hang it in your closet? Whatevs. That's not even what's bothering me. What is up with her beer gut? I know that sounds very Jerry Seinfeld-ian, but bear with me. Or their angry beaver faces? Or their casual "armpit-whiff" pose that you do when you think no one's looking, like pretend to stretch but really you're making sure all's good in the hood and don't even act like you don't do it because I know you do. Even more disturbing is how they're all, let's say, packing heat in their knickers. I don't...I mean, it's so...I can't. I just can't. You tell me what you think: Just a simple case of bad design or it's a man, baby?

Prints Charming Sunday (On Monday): In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida

Welcome to Prints Charming Sunday, but on Monday! Don't fret, it's always going to be on Sundays, but I just got hung up on a long and craptastic weekend that I forgot all about yesterday! So I'm sorry for the delay, but it's only a day, so no need to get your knickers in a twist.

Today's novelty print pick comes from Julie of Damn Good Vintage. That's a shop name I never get sick of saying: Damn Good Vintage. You know, I do like the swears. I think more shops should have swears in their name. Like "Go to Hell Vintage: Jebus Hates You If You Don't Wear This" or "Fuck You, Just Buy My Vintage: For the Jerks Who Need to be Told How Not to Dress Like a Schmuck." I should've grabbed that name years ago. Live and learn.

Anyway, today's novelty print is very cheery and summery- 2 things I am not. Yet I can't resist the screaming pinks and fruity...well, fruit...of this Vintage 60's Serbin Fruit Print Shirtdress. Who cares that it's November and craploads of cold outside? Throw a cardigan sweater over it, wear some cotton tights and you're golden, Ponyboy.