My Best Friend's Girlfriend

Oh, sweet jumping jebus on a pogo stick, wouldya lookie here~ it's another Spinnerin! My most favorite, mock-tacular thing of all! Today's Vintage 1967 Spinnerin Book is curiously named "Gentleman Prefer" and ever more curiously dabbled with ménage à trois-y references throughout. Well this can't be good. Or attractive. Let's see just what exactly gentlemen prefer these days...



Gentleman Prefer...


*...their women to dress like 12 year old boys?

*...their women to be classy, yet have a subtle hairstyle that whispers "I live in a trailer park"?

*...to coordinate their outfits when they go out to look like they just had their yearbook photo taken?

*...to pretend to be Clark Kent?

*...to act like they're interested in what "Kiss My Grits" Flo has to say, while checking out the stacked blond behind her?

*...to take full advantage of props, such as this complimentary basket of fruit, sent up by hotel management when accidentally mistaking them for the Everly Borthers?

*...to use said prop in order to break out the old "is that a banana in your basket, or are you just happy to see me" joke?

*...to offer chicks a poison apple, so they'd just go away already?

*...to keep a close watch on their chick, waiting for the moment the roofies kick in?

* ...to grip something tightly, to keep from reaching over and bitchslapping Flo into next week, in order to get her to stop talking about the proper way to fry a corn dog?








"My Best Friend's Girlfriend" by the Cars.

Atomic Tuesday: Pour Some Sugar on Me

Welcome to this week's Atomic Tuesday! Today's theme is all about a certain type of mid-century modern stacking canisters. For some strange reason, I've been coming across these particular canisters all over the ding dang place lately. I'm concerned. Are the cosmos trying to tell me something? Am I fated to buy a set of these or the world as I know it will end? Have I angered the Gods of Kitchen Condiments by improperly storing my flour/coffee/sugar and tea? Or perhaps it's just a coincidence. (*At that moment the skies darkened and there was thunderclap, shaking the ground below! The black clouds parted and Old Bay Seasonus, the God of Spices, emerged with his garlic press to smite me upside the head for not taking kitchen arrangement seriously.*)

So with that in mind, please enjoy today's vintage 60's/70's stacking canister sets and remember: never underestimate the power of a well-organised kitchen.




Vintage Orange Metal Stacking Canister Set.






Vintage Maroon & Orange Stacking Canister Set. 2-tone you say? Awesome.






Vintage Red & White Plastics Consolidated Stacking Canister Set.






Vintage Green & White White Plastics Consolidated Stacking Canister Set.






Vintage Aqua Metal Stacking Canister Set.







"Pour Some Sugar on Me” by Def Leppard. Yep. I used a DL song today. You know you secretly love it.

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.

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...

Ain't That Just Like A Woman

No matter how socially unacceptable and un-PC smoking is, I can't help but adore vintage smoking ads. Maybe it's a big screw you to "The Man" or something in me that's like a 14 year old, when you tell them to do something, they do the opposite. Or maybe I'm just a good ol' fashioned gal who likes her steak, beer and vintage, with a finely-tuned sense of "lighten the hell up already". I love ads from the 1940's and 1950's, with their celebrity spokesmen and glamorous spin (word up, Ronald Reagan & Joan Crawford), while the ads from the 1960's and 70's were blatantly in-your-face with the sleaze (which I do appreciate) and made no apologies for the double entendres. Granted, they didn't paint us broads in a very positive light by being nothing more than just sexy beasts, but come on, since when is that bad?

Enjoy this bizarre collection of vintage late 60's Tiparillo ads. I'll admit I don't quite "get" their message; Is it: Even boring-ass, hit-every-branch-falling-out-of-the-fugly-tree, lame-o nerdy chicks can be hot if they smoke Tiparillos? If that's the case, toss me a Tiparrillo because this nerdy chick wants some skankification. You know, in the good, 1967 kind of way.




I wanna be a slutty violinist.




Now I wanna be a slutty lab tech.




Now I wanna be a slutty dental hygienist.





Now I wanna be a slutty librarian.


I don't know why those ding dang women libbers think these kinds of ads are degrading to women and hold us back in the business world or whateverthehell. Look at all the career choices I've set for myself in the past few seconds, which is quite a feat, you know, being a highly-suggestible dumb ol' girl and all, just from the power of suggestion from an ad. I want to be a violinist, a lab tech, a hygienist AND a librarian~ sure, slutty ones, but isn't it good to have goals?






"Ain't That Just Like A Woman" by Louis Jordan

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

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.

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.

Die With Your Boots On

I've been in a very 60's sort of mood lately- not the disgusto hippie/peace love and patchouli 60's, but the swanky, tough broad, early to mid 60's Faster Pussycat, Kill! Kill! kind of way. Spy girls, shoot from the hip, lurex jumpsuits, go-go kind of way.

Think: Emma Peel, avenging the crap outta wrong-doers...



...Julie Newmar, thanks for everything! Best Catwoman ever...



...Nancy Sinatra, not quite living up to her Dad's swagger, but saucy all the same. (And I will NOT use a cliche and overdone "these boots are made for walkin'" reference, because it's lame and has anyone ever really used that phrase and meant it? No! So stop saying it!)



And these chicks have the right apparel: skanktastic boots that every girl should have. How's about vintage gold boots? Ohhellsyeah! Am I nusto for thinking these are way too cool?



The seller calls them "Superhero boots" which is made of awesome and now I want to dress up like Wonder Woman and MUST HAVE the matching gold cuffs. Though I probably wouldn't be so motivated as to fight crime in it. More like vacuum and watch Maury Povich in it. Also awesome: the gold boots of glory are a US size 10. (!)

"Die With Your Boots On" by Iron Maiden. That's right, Iron motherlovin' Maiden, bitches.