Rainy Day Women #12 & 35

Stylish, economical, and practical, too! What’s not to love about this head-to-literally-toe rain gear? This feature appeared in the April 1953 issue of Woman’s Day, which includes instructions for making just about everything for yourself, your family, and your home with your own two hands and some cheap and/or recycled materials except a fallout shelter.

A woman self-reliant and thrifty enough to make a raincoat for herself and her shoes and purse out of plastic wrap would probably scoff at the notion of having a separate room in one’s house devoted to artistic scrapbooking. Honestly, though, would anyone actually leave the house draped in a shower curtain liner?

I didn’t check to see if the instructions included adding a suffocation warning label, since these fashions long predate the warning label era, but if I were any of these ladies, especially the French Foreign Legionnaire, I would make sure not to put my rain hat on backwards.

This fashion guide must have been a page-filler to complete this particular issue’s how-to quota, because for the cost of one of those fetching sou’westers, you could buy four clear pleated plastic rain bonnets at the dime store, and still have one cent left over from your pin money

No matter how hard I try...

I cannot come up with a coherent post to accompany these jarring images.

Despite the differences in their stations in life that are meant to be obvious to the early fifties white middle-class housewifely consumer, the proud, trim Mrs. A, in her stylish shirtwaist (which I'll just bet she made herself! She makes her own clothes, too, don't you know) and elegant 'do, is partnering with the humbly beaming do-ragged Aunt Jemima (no competition, style-wise, to Mrs. America - AJem's dress is made from a leftover tablecloth), to serve Mrs. A's pancake-consuming machine of a husband, "salesman" Bob Schenk.

(I guess the fact that Mr. Schenk had an occupation other than entering his wife in beauty contests needed to be pointed out.)

Mrs. A is practically dislocating her shoulder in her haste to slap that next golden stack on the table. AJem, needless to say, stands at the rear.

Even for the fifties, this is one ad that is just trying too, too hard.

It's the washer that thinks it's a dryer! No, it's the dryer that thinks it's a washer!

There are numerous ads for washers and for dryers, sold by numerous obscure manufacturers, in the early fifties Good Housekeeping magazines I've been reading lately. I had never heard of this brand (although when I Googled it I got lots of hits).

This washer/dryer combo is certainly more modern and user-friendly than the washers with wringer attachments that were still being marketed back then. Now, if it also removed the dried clothes from itself and hung them up for me, I'd be impressed.

I certainly didn't select this ad for comment for this reason, but dang, look at that little girl in her undies, waiting for her dress to dry. It should be an entirely innocent image, and no doubt it was for its day... and no doubt I've been warped by living in a subsequent era where innocence seems to exist only to be defiled. but no manufacturer would dare publish such an ad today.

New Diana-style Youngstown Kitchens

Can you imagine the horrified reaction of an HGTV designer at the sight of this ad? NO pricey granite counters or sleek high-end wood cabinets in sight here --just acres of (nohhhhh!) shiny white enamel and shiny laminate.

The first kitchen I remember had cabinets very similar to these, and a bright red shiny counter rimmed with metal edges, though, so this ad made me feel nostalgic. Maybe this combination will even be back in style one day!*

This ad is a good example of the copywriting style that I've noticed is so prevalent in early fifties' women's magazines. It is intimate - loaded with "you's" and "yours" - chatty, and almost breathlessly enthusiastic. Italics get a real workout in these ads.

It's tough to picture a stereotypical cynical, booze-guzzling, cigarette smoke-shrouded ad man coming up with such peppy verbiage. Because despite the use of such an arresting adjective as revolutionary in this ad - it's a homey, domestic image under cultivation here.

*About 600 million years after the next nuclear holocaust wipes the granite countertop, luxury kitchen cabinet, and stainless steel appliance industries off the face of the earth first.