Heavy Metal

By a show of hands, how many people here are charmed by Mad Men? One...two...ok, so like a million. And how many people are going slightly mad waiting for Series 3 to premier in August? Me too. It's not that the show is particularly awesome or anything, it's just that the clothes, the sky-high heels, the hot-ass men, the addicting soap opera-like plots, the music, the cars, the mid-century modern furniture...make it particularly awesome. Yesterday it seemed like the next season is still a jillion years away but today it only seems like 2 months away. You know, being as though yesterday was only May but today its all of June already.

One bastard of vintage fashion is the lack of props for certain swanky footwear. All the love goes to early 50's babydoll heels with the cutesy rounded bump toe or the fabulosity of swing-era 40's platforms. But how come no one realises the pure genius of late 50's/early 60's heels? Mad Men's cup runneth over with them, so they know what's up. 4 out of 5 men agree that the stiletto heel radiates pure sex. Also, I make up statistics when needed with no solid proof to back it up. Plus the super skinny pointy toe, while wreaking havoc on the foot and possibly causing irreparable damage down the road, is also hot as sin and a little bunionectomey is the price to pay for looking like a vampy piece-o-tail.

So today I'm featuring some of my favorite vintage 50's/60's heels, in metallics (delish!), whether they're gold or silver, have amazing heels or pointy toes, these shoes deserve some hot, hot lovin' and by god as my witness, they'll get their day in their sun. Oh yes, they'll get their day. (Was that dramatic enough?)




From MySweetiePiePie




From Little Vintage Violet





From Denisebrain





From Digs of Vaudeville




"Heavy Metal" by Judas Priest.

Hot Dog

With Memorial Day right around the corner, I thought it'd be swell to post some of my favorite vintage finds to go with this weekend's patriotic and picnic-y theme. Come to think of it, I haven't done a theme in a while! I love themes!! Alot! And superfluous exclamation points!! I assume most of you are spending the next few days having picnics, bbq's, random virgin sacrificing or whateverthehell else happy fun people do on Memorial Day weekends? I figured you would be.



Vintage 50's patriotic heels from Black Raven Vintage. I love heels that can put an eye out.




Very cool little WW11-era 40's (dated 1942) plastic cavalry hat & bugle pin from Pattycakes Plunder. I wish I knew what the story behind this pin was, I bet it was something somehow sad and sweet. Aww.




Early 40's cold rayon picnic plaid men's shirt by Mohawk Sportswear- and it's new old stock! Available from me at Fast Eddie's Retro Rags.




And for your kitsch pleasure, a set of vintage 60's Heinz ketchup plastic salt and pepper shakers. I love things that look like one thing but are meant for another thing.




And one of my favorite 50's bbq-themed things yet, this awesome shish kebab novelty print linen tablecloth. This is so one of those things that should be made into another thing. What a kickass skirt (or something wearable) this would make. Crafty peeps, get on it! Also, has anyone ever made a shish kebab with olives and sunnyside-up eggs? That's unpossible. And disturbing.




"Hot Dog" by Buck Owens.

Way-Out Wednesday: That Touch of Mink

While searching through vintage furs for research not too long ago, I got sidetracked, naturally, and discovered a whole other realm of vintage fur... hmm..."things". In the 1940's, 50's and 60's, furs like mink and sable were in their heyday, being the fancy-pants fur of choice, coveted by everyday housewife types like Lucy and Ethel and rocked by Hollywood starlets like Doris Day. These days it's all very un PC and uncool to wear fur, but I say if the animal kicked the bucket decades ago, why the hell not wear it now, so it's death wasn't in vain, or whatever? Stupid hairy hippie girls ruin everything. I might not personally be a fan of fur, not for any ethical or moral reason- hell, I'd bedazzle a set of moose balls and wear 'em as earmuffs if I had to- but because just looking at it makes me feel itchy and sneezy. Totally a mental reject I am, I know. But far be it for me to hold back any chick who can wear a fur stole with a sequin cocktail dress and party like it's 1959.



Or guy. Whatever. What do I care if a guy wants to wear fur? (Ed Wood, you marvelous scamp, you.)


So naturally in the 50's and 60's, along with full-length coats, capes and stoles, luxe touches of fur like mink were incorporated into smaller and more affordable items like on earrings and pins. I dunno, maybe it's just me, but I think doing so made it somehow...creepy looking? Maybe I'm a freak or maybe I just found some especially farked-up examples. Either way, you might agree that the following minktastic accessories are farther from glam and closer to mutant. But you know, in a fancy way.

Please enjoy the following vintage 50's & 60's mink fur accessories. Jebus help us all. (Each pic is clickable to go to the seller's listing.)


Vintage mink pin. Nothing quite says "I'm a sexy bitch" than a furry flower. (Also, I can think of about a million disgusting things to say about that, but I will refrain.)



Oh, HELL no. I'm sorry animal lovers, but if I saw this in my house, I couldn't reach for a trap fast enough. Look at it's stabby metal tail. Ick. Oh god. Gross.



"Midge? The damn cat hacked up another fur ball again, get me a paper towel! Oh wait. Nevermind! It's just your sweater clip!"



Oh. Good. Lord. I mean, what is...seriously, who would...come ON, is that...I can't...I just can't...

Memphis Soul Stew

Welcome to another addition to Vintage Giveaway! This month's month's giveaway is a vintage 50's square "card table" tablecloth with a kitschy cute little embroidered soup bowl & spoon.



Oh, and a random fork. Yep. A fork. Just because. It's made out of soft white cotton, feedsack-ish. Measures 33" wide and 32" down, which is a little odd but if anyone can sashay the hell out of it, it's you guys. (And yeah, I totally said "sashay" because apparently I'm RuPaul.)




If you're all like, "Who plays cards? And who uses a tablecloth to play cards, any damn way? Nerd.", then you crafty types could probably rock it into something cool and upcycled like you do, maybe a pillow or a skirt? A little kitchen curtain would be swell, too. Whatever. Wear it on your head if you want, what do I care.

How it works: As usual all are welcome to sign up- first time posters, regular posters, old winners, old losers, everyone- and it won't cost you a dime. Free vintage crapola is my recession ass-kicker present to you. If you'd like to enter the contest, leave me a comment that you'd like to enter -or- if you can always drop me an email and let me know that way. I'll write everyone's name down and draw a very random name from a hat and post the winner in a week from now, on the 26th.

Note: I'd love a picture if you do take the tablecloth and use it as something else! Or as a regular ol' tablecloth. I'll do a blog post about your artsy fartsiness with a link to your blog/website/favorite meat wholesaler/whateverthehell. Free advertising for craftiness!



"Memphis Soul Stew" by King Curtis. Go funk yourself.

Way-Out Wednesday: Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport

Do you remember being a kid on those perfect summer days, when you'd lay on the grass, staring up at the sky, doing absolutely nothing for hours on end, because you didn't have to and didn't have a care in the world, no bills to pay, no responsibilities and with no place to be except right there in the grass and just being 10? I miss those days. Especially when it's rent day. Then I really miss those days. Turns out I'm not the only one who gets all melty for nostalgia and youth, because just the other day I was talking with some friends about this very subject and it seems they all feel the same way: Being a grownup sucks. (Most of the time. Not during those "Jack Daniels" times. Then being a grownup kicks all ass.) But most of the time we'd rather take a day of Atari and Smurfs over a day of jury duty and parking tickets. Which brings me to one specific retro memory a friend brought up, and that was his love of Captain Kangaroo. I never watched a single episode of KC, and furthermore, it was just a bit before my time- (wasn't it a show that started in the 50's?) At any rate, this lead to a controversial (read: not at all controversial) and much heated debate (read: not at all heated) over whether that's true. I swear on the carcass of Snuffleupagus that I was a Sesame Street kid, and there isn't a moment that goes by that my family doesn't torment me with memories of me being terrified of the "Yip Yips". (Seriously, that's what they're called. Wikipedia is never wrong.)



Yip yip yip yip. Uh-huh, uh-huh. Brrrrrring! Book book book. Earth Book. Telephone! Hello? Hello? Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope! See?! Who wouldn't hate that?


I couldn't even tell you the premise of Captain Kangaroo or what the hell the sucka did, except a vague recollection of him looking like Colonel Sanders(?) and there were puppets involved (?) and there was a moral at the end of the day (?)... or something? I'm just making that up off the top of my head. Puppets and morals and crap were involved in every damn LSD-inspired kid's show from the 60's and 70's. Damn hippies.

So in homage to those who seem to think Captain Kangaroos was thee man (I think Captain Morgan is a better man, frankly) I did, of course, find an awesomely bad Cap'n K thing of vintage. Terrifying, actually.



Sooo...I guess the Cap'n was the offspring of Satan and a Hawaiian luau suckling pig? Neat. I still don't get the fascination. But wait...



Oh sweet jebus! His eyes! They're...holographic? Ok, whatever, I guess kids like that sort of thing. I still prefer to be scarred for life by furry octopus aliens, but that's just me.



"Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport" by Rolf Harris

Be My Baby

And now it's time for another episode of mystery and intrigue, love won and lost, confusion and malaise, told through the pages of 1958's "Botany College Hand Knits" and the deception the love of a sweater can bring.

And now, we hope you enjoy today's episode: "Knit Wits".



The tragedy starts out with 2 seemingly normal beaus, Johnny and his best gal Jane, taking a break from their college studies and meeting up for a chat under the shade of the ol' pine trees. Jane was smitten with the lad, and most of the young ladies on campus noticed Johnny too, with his Gable-esque Royal Crown hair glistening in the sunlight and looking dapper in his high-waisted trousers...



Random Campus Girl 1: "Ooh, break me off some of that. You want fries with that shake, baby? Seriously, look at that ASS. You could bounce coins off that thing! Has he been working out with Jack LaLanne or WHAT, because mama's got a whole pocketful of quarters, an almost-undone cardigan and nowhere to go."




Random Campus Girl 2: "Going my way, sugar? Way down my PANTS! Hey yooo! But seriously, it won't be hard to get in my slacks today, because little does he know I'm only wearing my all-in-one, open-bottom, zip-up girdle underneath this smart plaid slack set! Mama's feeling naughty tonight!"

Let's listen in on our 2 lovers. Continuing on with Knit Wits...



Jane: "Oh Johnny, I'm ever so glad you were able to sneak away from your fraternity meeting of the Kappa Omega Kappas and meet me here in Lover's Wood. I see you brought your copy of "The Atomic Bomb and You: Perfect Together" I gave you. Isn't it all just too romantic? The idea of the world coming to an end and having mere moments alone with the person of your dreams...siiigghh, it's all just too dreamy...

Johnny: "Uhhh...right. Actually, it's a copy of "The Male Anatomy: Good Things Come in Small Packages, Too". But you know, whatever.

Jane: "Oh, well, no bother. We can read it together later. Alone. In my dorm room. At night. Alone.

Johnny: "Umm...Hmm. Well, what about your roommate? Yeah! Your roommate! Won't she be there?"

Jane: "Sarah? No, silly goose. Don't you remember? She came down with polio and she's out for the semester. I have the room all to myself, to do things only 2 people can do together...alone... if you know what I mean."

Johnny: Damn! I mean...damn, golly gee that's bad news for Sarah. Oh, you know what? I just rememebered. I can't see you later tonight because I have another secret meeting with the boys in the fraternity tonight. Yes, that's it! The KOKs need me Jane. More than ever, they need me."

Jane: But the tree! Did you notice the tree? I carved a heart in it! Isn't it all just too "Dobie Gillis"? I was figuring you could carve our initials in it...Johnny? Yoo-hoo, Johnny! Umm.. I'm right here, pookie. Johnny?...Hellooo...? I just don't understand you anymore, Johnny. I even wore my smartest wool sweater set, just for you. I noticed you were enjoying looking at Ralph in his tight cardigan the other day and I knew you would simply be smitten once you saw me wearing this! Sigh. What's a girl gotta do to get your attention? JOHNNY?! What the hell, man? Why won't you pay attention to me? What are you looking at?!








Jane: "Oh....OH!....Ohhhhh...It all makes sense now: the late nights, the smelling of Aramis, the Martha Stewart magazine subscription...Damn. Why does this always happen to me? You know what they say, the good ones are always married or gay. Or dead. Mwuahahaha!..."

And so concludes this week's episode. Tune in at a later date for the continuing saga. We hope you enjoyed your stay with us this evening! Drive safe, keep a watchful eye for the Reds and buy war bonds!



"Be My Baby" by the Ronettes.

Cigarettes and Coffee

One of the many things I'm finding that I have a slight case of Fatal Attraction for is collecting vintage patio/porch/outdoors-y furniture and novelties from the 50's and 60's. The standard post-war bamboo patio chairs & matching bars, tacky-ass garden figurines like flamingos, gnomes & mushrooms (not the somehow-off repros from Target) are all things I luuurve to collect. But what I get really excited about (hey, now) are those things that you never really knew existed or are just plain old hard to find anymore. Lucky for me, I live across the street from an antique mall~ nothing great or fancy by any means, in fact, this is one of those places that you can only really pop in once or twice a month because the don't seem to get a lot of new stock often. Turnover sucks, but hey, you can't beat the location. Often I leave there empty-handed but then there are times I leave with some kind of gloriously kitschy "thing" of some sort. (There *is* an amazing 1959/'60 cylinder bar on wheels there that I'm trying to justify spending $195 on. Oh, but this thing is made of love: white & gold glitter "quilted" vinyl outside, open a latch on the side and the thing opens up to make a bar, complete with shelves inside and a bar stool. Oy vey, I'm getting verklempt just thinking about it. Tell me $195 isn't too much and I should skip over there and get that thing of beauty! TELL ME! No, don't! Intervention!)

So here's my score of the day. It's a cold, grey, crap kind of morning. I wander over to the antique store for shits and giggles, not expecting to get anything. (My bar is still there and although I don't need it, I need it, it calls to me, myyyy preciousssss....) Anyway, I did buy this unsavory treat for a mere 10 bucks: a vintage 50's metal ashtray-slash-duel drink holder. It's so inappropriate of modern times, what with smoking apparently being bad for you or something (have you beard this?), but I don't care, I love this damn thing. Made during the time when you'd have your lady friends come over for canasta and you'd place this stand between your 2 metal patio chairs. Sit, talk, have a smoke and a bloody mary. Good times.

I think the red is original and the yellow has been added later, as I can see bits of red under the flaking yellow. I think I'm gonna leave it as-is though, and not repaint it or even try to remove the paint. What do you think? Leave it?










"Cigarettes and Coffee" by Otis Redding.

Eye Of The Tiger

Jumping moses on a pogo stick, I almost forgot about this month's vintage giveaway! How dare I and who do I think I am anyway? So without further yada yada yada, I bring you the free crapola vintage giveaway for April: vintage 50's sunglasses, shazam! These are certainly not schmancy by any means, white plastic cat
eye frames with thin green plastic (non-prescription) lenses by Cool Ray Polaroid.



(You are impressed by my fancy outdoor picture-taking skills, of that I am sure.)

I have far too many white cat eye sunglasses, though I'm not sure how that happened anyway. How very "1959 Barbie" of me. They're not the best of quality, most likely these were the el cheap-o drug store variety, but cheap ones are the best! (Screw you, Olsen Twins and your stupid $500 glasses.)

So if you want in on the free giveaway, sign up here by leaving a comment that says "Hey, I want free crap! I needs me some sunglasses! Throw my name in already, GOSH!". (And no, you don't really need to leave that comment. You can leave a comment in Elvish telling me to that I suck for all I care, just as long as you leave a comment that you want in!)

So. I'll pick a name... when?...how's about a week from today, the 24th? Good? Good. As always, everyone is welcome to play and it's fo' frizzle. (That means it's for free. I know I'm a cheese, as if I wouldn't know that.)



"Eye of the Tiger" by Survivor. Yeah, I know. Sorry 'bout that.

Way-Out Wednesday: The Kids Are Alright

You know, it's like I've been saying, there's nothing less inspirational than an inspirational saying. "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent". Oh, ok, really? That's brilliant. Stupid Eleanor Roosevelt. Who the balls do you think you are, shoving your positive outlook on life all up in my grill? I didn't give my consent for people to walk this Earth being stupid and annoying, but there they are, doing it anyway, even though I didn't give them a signed permission slip to do so. Jerks. And inspirational posters don't work either. Unless, of course, it's become a retro mockery of itself over time, such as the infamous kitteh falling out of a tree "Hang in there!" wonderfully craptastic kind.

Imagine the surprise! glee! wonder! of finding a whole collection of them from a seller on etsy. While they're "instructional" on teaching kids good manners and not so much inspirational, and while I "get" that these were probably hanging up in a kindergarten class once and that's all very fitting for the time and all, it doesn't change the fact that they're still odd and the kids are creepy little bastards. They're vintage 50's (actually, they're all dated 1957), and as we know, most children-themed things from the 50's generally are disturbing or strange to a degree, but you know, in the awesome way. (I wish these posters were movie poster size, because they'd make a ridonkulously wrong and great wall-o-art, plastering an entire wall in the house!)

(Since they're all being sold by one seller, I only made the very first picture below clickable over to the listing, should you feel the need to buy one or 6. I'm lazy. So sue me.)

And now, I present to you: the fuggingest, most fugtastically fugly little hellions.



Because if you don't knock, you'll force your mother into having a very awkward conversation with you about why the mailman is in your house and what exactly he was doing to her involving your Twister mat.



Apparently he's on the "Body by Carrot Top" exercise plan.



Little Jimmy's dad is so busy giving his mom the 3rd degree about why he saw Donald Duck crawling out of her bedroom window, that they didn't take notice to Little Jimmy bleeding profusely out of his jugular.



In a related topic, Children of the Corn do not approve when their parents pay more attention to the Arguing Ducks Show than to them and now they will have to pay, either with bleeding jugulars of their own or being sent "into the cornfield".



Give a sister a break. Maybe she hates him because he's wearing the gayest outfit ever. And anyway, cat appliques are so last year.



Yeah, that one-foot drop to the ground looks really dangerous. Also, why would an 8 year old try to impress a 2 year old anyway? You just know he's gonna grow up to be that 26 year old guy cruising past the high school in his 1975 Ford Econoline van trying to impress the girls with his nunchuck skills, shag carpeting and bottle of Mad Dog. (AKA: how Kim lost her virginity. Ha! Kidding. It was Boone's Farm.)



"The Kids are Alright" by the Who.

Cannibal Pot

While on my quest of collecting the best (ie: worst and most vile) vintage 1950's & 60's cookbooks, I discovered this little gem recently. I almost bypassed it, what with it's glaringly 1970's grotesque-ness of homespun cross-stitched country charm of a cover (kill me now), but then I found that it's actually from 1959. Huh. Betty Crocker, you foiled me again with your witchery. But the best part, however, is the questionable title, which takes a second to sink in your noggin and make the good feelings go away, kinda like chasing a Miller High Life with Jagermeister. (I'm sorry, but I cannot possibly begin to figure out how to type an umlaut over the "A". Also, I'm too lazy.) The book is titled: Betty Crocker's Guide to Easy Entertaining--How to Have Guests- and Enjoy Them.



Well isn't that a nice cook---oh sweet jebus on a Triscuit! How to "have guests" and "enjoy them" made me automatically think of the Twilight Zone episode called To Serve Man (aired in March of 1963). So of course now I really want to buy this thing, unless one of you other happy little carnivores grabs it first. (Click the cookbook pic to go and buy it.) If you're a vintage Twilight Zone nerd like me, then you'll know exactly of what I'm referring. If you're not a TZ fan, it shouldn't take long to realise that it sounds like it's a cookbook for serving human.





..." IT'S A COOKBOOK!"


"Cannibal Pot" by Tommy Steele.

Way-Out Wednesday: Barbecue Any Old Time

It's Way-Out Wednesday and that means there's vintage to be found, struttin' it's stuff along on a fine line between wholesome kitschy fun and "Oh sweet jebus, my eyes!".

Today's picks are for the boys. The men! The manliest of men! The hairiest and most mustachio'ed of macho men! I mean of course, the Manly Apron. No girlie-men allowed on this day, for today it's about grillin' meat! And aprons! Macho aprons! Which require much shouting! And the use of superfluous exclamation points!!!

The man apron (Manpron? Apman?) is pretty much a dead fashion statement these days, and I'm not referring to the cheestacular, fleeting interest in manly aprons of the 1980's that said "Kiss the Cook" or had a risque drawing of a naked man on the front, so when worn, it looked like the chef was standing there, cooking in the nude. Hilarious.

You may recall the days of the Ward Cleavers and the Ozzie Nelsons- not exactly who you think of when you say "manly men", but as the head of the household they manned the bbq grill, as did most dad-types in Anytown, USA beginning from it's post-war explosion of grilling-pit interest to modern day. And they wouldn't wear their wives' pink froo-froo aprons (unless, of course, it was for slapstick comedic gold, such as when Ricky and Fred traded lives with Lucy and Ethel and they wore their lacy aprons. What a hoot.) Nay, your average Joe had an apron of his own, usually with a wacky, totally 50's novelty print on the front and almost always some sort of derogatory-to-womankind picture on the front. The good ol' days. (I'm a chick and even I can say lighten the hell up already! Kitsch isn't meant to be apologetic.) So with summer creeping up, I think it's high time men also lighten the hell up already and take back the grill in style.

(PS: Is it just me or have I been talking about meat alot lately? What...is up... with that? (said like Jerry Seinfeld). Meatmeatmeatmenmenmengrillinggrillinggrilling. Freudian or coincidence? Or a blogging hack? Or in need of upping her dosage? All of the above? You be the judge.)

So here are a few of my favorites, all available for sale as of this very second. (None are owned by me, which makes me and baby jebus sad.) Each pic is clickable to take you to the listing where you can purchase it and wear it with testosterone-y flair. Extra points to anyone who owns a Trans Am or rocks a Smokey and the Bandit mustache.



Looks like Sam the Butcher has been dipping in the sauce again. I would suggest avoiding the Liver Special.






"There are strange things done 'neath the midnight sun." Such as...? DO tell.




For the man who prefers AA to A1. That's right, Borderline Alcoholic Gardener, screw the "B-Que" and head straight to the "Bar".




"Please don't stand up while the room is in motion." "Our policy: The customer is always tight." Will the hilarity never end? "Don't take life so seriously. You'll never get out of it alive" sounds like something your annoying office buddy would have hanging on her cubicle wall, right next to the motivational "Hang in There" cat poster and Cathy cartoon clippings.





By far, this one's my favorite. While I appreciate the coolness of the pinups and the play on "Hot Dish", is it necessary to have the gals writhing in pain in a frying pan? That's not safe. It looks like something out of a cheesy Bugs Bunny cartoon. I know they're supposed to be sassy and all, but look at their poses- they even look like they're dying a slow death by frying. And PS: As IF a fatass, old slob like him would have a harem of babes like that. (A man must have invented that one.) Reality FAIL. That only happens in movies. And Utah.


"Barbecue Any Old Time" by Blind Boy Fuller

That's All Right

It's like I always never say, you can never have too much Elvis memorabilia around your house, classing up the joint. The Gotta Have It Collectibles, Inc. company in New York is holding a 9 day auction of Elvis rock and/or roll stuff-o-rama, ending on the 25th. You can waste a ridonkulous amount of time on their site looking at all the marvelous crap you can bid on. Natch, there are a few big ticket items that you can kiss your sweet ass goodbye on unless you want to sell your firstborn (ponder that a moment), but there are also much less expensive lots for under $25. (Granted, the cheap stuff is mostly magazines and records you can find at Any Thrift Store USA for a buck, but still.) Here are some of my favorite things:



Vintage 1950's Teddy Bear brand perfume? Hmm. Let me think about that for second. ICK.



Elvis was a crossdresser. He even has his own line of makeup, like RuPaul would if he could step to the magic which is called Elvis. (Also, I thought the fine print said "Teen Angster" at a quick glance. Did you know Nirvana wore this brand? It's true.)



Vintage 1950's wallet. Apparently you put a picture of your beau in the middle. I'd put a picture of Colonel Sanders there.



Vintage 1950's Elvis Trapper Keeper, for holding your love notes or novelty pencil top erasers or shivs, or whatever it is teenagers carry with them these days.



OMGILOVETHISSOMUCHICOULDCRYORKILLSOMEONE. Vintage 1950's Elvis dog tag sweater clip? So many levels of awesome. Also, the teen angster on the card has no nose and it looks like Elvis may have bitten it off.



(Is it weird that I really want to wear this? Not in a pervy way, just a "hey what's up guys. I'm just hanging out in my jumpsuit" kind of way.)



(Is it weird that I really want to wear these? And totally in the pervy way. I want to get in Elvis' pants. HA! See that? See how I double entendred the crap outta that?)


"That's All Right" by Elvis Presley. DUH.