BOOtiful Design, The End

It's interesting that all three of the people pictured in this 1956 ad could pass as a Halloween character today, but back then, only the combo cowboy-astronaut would be seen as something [or somebody] other than normal.

Such is time.

You Say It's Your Birthday

John and Yoko remodeled their kitchen in the Dakota to be more in the spirit of the artists' lofts they knew when they lived downtown on Bank Street. Saltillo tiles, a combination of open shelves and closed cupboards, director's chairs, and a farm table—it's very 1980.

Happy birthday, JWL + SOL.

If Only...

Just imagine if the current First Family exhibited the virtues ascribed to these appliances: tasteful style, helpful features, and honest value.

Keep the faith!

Chemical Warfare

As Agent Orange continues his charm offensive [or is it offensive charm?] with bro Rocket Man, let us look to history for lessons. This was part of the response in 1962 to the Bomb Threat du jour. I'm particularly impressed by the manufacturer's assurance, 'Comes complete with chemicals.' In the implied holocaustic scenario, wasn't there little doubt that if anything, the world would enjoy a surfeit of such substances? And note: 'Agent' inquiries were invited...orange or otherwise.

Bathroom Blues

American post-war prosperity was hitting its stride in 1961, as this ad reflects. Three happy, well-dressed kids—but not enough bathrooms. Sad! No longer was sharing deemed necessary, nor virtuous. The more, the better would become the eventual model. And a soothing Cerulean Blue made it all the more palatable.

Future Past

A confession: Lately, I've been finding escape—and even fulfillment—in episodes of Star Trek. A few days ago marked the anniversary of the original series' debut in 1966. This look at the galley of a later version of the USS Enterprise reveals a clean, spacious, and well-lighted prep area, as well as a predilection for cabbage.

Well, Anything is Possible

To answer the question: Yes. But I'd counter with another query—Why?

I'm off for a long [and last] holiday weekend, dear readers. Best until Tuesday!

Celestial Design, The End

Countless times leading up to the eclipse this week, we were sternly and unequivocally warned: Do not look directly at the sun without proper viewing glasses. One orange-complected fool—perhaps you may be able to guess his identity—disregarded this bit of scientific guidance. [Perhaps as he is already blind to reality, no further harm was done.] Given this individual's tendency to poke his short thumb into various eyes, I'm surprised he didn't opt to follow the example of this 1959 ad, and take a telescope to the sight.

Flashback Friday, Eclipse Edition

On Monday, many of us will scan the skies for the eclipse. [Where I am, we're expecting about a 71% occlusion.] In 1966, New Moon mobile homes offered cutting edge kitchens for families on the move. Heads up!

Gimme [Bomb] Shelter

This late-1950s fallout shelter—dubbed the 'Kidde Kokoon'—had none of the comforts of home. The kitchen was basically a can opener, as there was no refrigerator or stove [this predated the microwave, with its irony-laden 'nuking' capabilities]. Lacking showers, sinks, or baths, hygiene was achieved with a sponge and bottled water. Absent plumbing, chemical toilets were available—or a bucket. I hope the renovations going on at the White House while our Cheeto-in-Chief enjoys his vacation includes an update to its emergency quarters.

An Appetite for Al Fresco, The End

Two is too many cooks in a kitchen, let alone crowding a rather small-sized grill, don't you think? By today's behemoth barbecue standards, the puny capacity of this 1968 model is rather sad. And I must say, the menu is a bit dated, as well: steak and an iceberg lettuce salad, with a casserole, of all things, as a side dish. To be fair, gas-fueled grills were still a relative novelty at the time, and the Flavor Twin offered controlled temperature that brought the convenience of indoor cooking outdoors.

Cold War Cold Cabinet

Here's a page from "The Soviet Commodity Dictionary," a nine-volume publication that starting in 1956 was kind of a Communist Sears catalogue. Beautiful illustrations of clothing, foodstuffs, knick-knacks, household objects, and oh-so-much more were deliberately designed to appeal to the nascent materialist tendencies in the population. [I'd make a contemporary kompromat correlation here, but yet another White House staffing scandal is unfolding and I must go monitor my Twitter feed.]

Happy Friday! Really!

But enough about Sean Spicer's just-now-former job.

Lordy, we live in a fast-paced world. No sooner had I lined up a Russia-referencing post for Flashback Friday, than bigly news broke about the shake-up in the White House press office. So as we bid adieu to our tongue-tied friend and wish him a subpoena-free life among the shrubbery beyond the Beltway, let's appreciate the anonymous copywriter behind this 1968 ad.

Independently-Minded Design, The End

At the conclusion of our week-long celebration of independence in design, here's a look at a patriotic powder room from the early 1970s. The colors of the fixtures had a limited run: New Orleans Blue was available from 1969 through 1984, and Antique Red more than doubled that span, notching up 31 years of production, from 1965 through 1996. Something to think about, in these days where a vibrant democracy can't be taken for granted.

Put Your Feet Up

Dear readers, I hope your holiday weekend is as restful as that spent by the Maytag repairman in 1986. See you next week!

Hmmmm...

I bet Westinghouse would think twice about this particular spin on its laundry appliances today. In 1960, a river of soapy water might have impressed folks with its implied cleansing power. But today, we see it for what it is: egregious pollution and waste.

Oh Dad, Poor Dad

In the 60s, as the 'women's lib' movement continued, men were often accused of being male chauvinists—but this ad puts the shoe [or the slipper sock, as the case may be] on the other foot. As modern laundry appliances don't require either muscle or an extraordinary IQ to operate, I think the claim about ease of use made here is rather unfair. So to dads and wannabe dads everywhere, an apology for such stereotyping—and best wishes on your day.

Squeeze Play

Yes! I want to have tiny freezers and refrigerators built into the walls—not in the kitchen, of course, but somewhere out in the hallway, just like this 1957 ad depicts. Strangely, at that time, the appliances' capacity was often calculated not in volume, but in weight; the freezer here could hold 234 pounds. That's a lot of frozen peas!

Coming Clean

This 1950s ad is but one of many of the time that equated cleanliness with the purity of nature. Perhaps in those days, we were unaware of the irony of that coupling; water-guzzling washers and heat-hungry dryers were not environmentally-friendly appliances back then. Of course, their efficiency has greatly improved—due to both regulatory and voluntary efforts. Let's hope that the recent rash decision regarding the US withdrawal from the Paris Accord doesn't curtail such independent efforts.

A Rare Grill, Indeed

'Controlled Cooking'—Sure, if you think setting your shins aflame is some sort of control. A vertical broiler fueled by charcoal is one wacky [or is it 'magic'?] idea. And locating said broiler in a spot that's awkward to access and hard to see is, IMHO, just asking for a quick trip to the burn unit.

Have a great holiday weekend, dear readers!