Wildflowers and Cucumbers

When I want to take a trip down memory lane, I go to YouTube and watch advertisments from the 60′s.

Vintage television shows do not evoke 1960′s for me. (Sure, I watched Star Trek back then, but I saw an episode of the original just the other day, as my husband had tuned in to it.)

But vintage commercials do. Especially commercials for cosmetics and hair products.

I watched a batch yesterday, and, boy, when you see these ads all in a row, it’s blatantly obvious. It was all about sex, sex, sex, and the mating game. Kind of cruel, exploiting our sex drives to sell mostly useless stuff. (I have a suspicion that using shampoos and soaps increases the need for them.)

But enough cynicism..

Nothing brings me back to where I was emotionally in 1966 than ads for makeup and body lotions.

I was too young to lust after real-live boys in earnest so I lusted after the products that would eventually get me a boy. Garden of earthly delights, indeed!

I bought 17 magazine, long before I was 17, I can distinctly recall the feel of the big, glossy magazine in my hands and the look of the pages, filled with stunning, pungeant-looking ads. (I don’t recall the articles at all. They were classic “how to please boys” stories.)

Yesterday, I found this advertisement for The California Look line of cosmetics and the brown and red and yellow design hit my psyche like a tonne of lipsticks I recall using that brand and I recall the feeling (of hope and quiet desperation ) I felt buying it. Cornsilk, the face powder, was the promise of a pimple free complexion. Wildflowers, by whom I can’t recall, was my very favorite brand. I wanted to be just like that golden-haired girl holding the giant bouquet of daisies and asters out in the sunny field. (I wanted to be a fertility goddess, or my DNA did.)

Yardley ads, especially, appealed to me.

Me, in 66. I think I was trying to pose like a fashion model.

Yesterday, I ventured onto Flickr and found some sets of Yardley ads from the mid 60′s. My gosh, what a show.

Twiggy was ‘the face of 66′ and no wonder. She looked like a little girl. And the make-up ads from Yardley were clearly aimed at tweenage girls.

These splendid advertisements were sensual, but in a non-lascivious way (is that the word?). Some ads feature a young model with an approving ‘boyfriend’, who appears to be a few years away from acquiring a five o’clock shadow or even a 10 o’clock shadow. (Clive Owen wouldn’t have got the gig.)

The colours and scents were all based on nature, fruits and rainbows and such.

The company Sunkist, that sells orange juice and grapefruits, apparently tried to exploit this by putting out a line of lemony hair and body washes and even an elbow scrub.

So, in the mid 60′s, they tarted you up without making you a tart, while retaining your innocence. (After all, makeup essentially is ‘sexual colouring’ as it makes a woman look aroused which, in turn, arouses men.)

In one of my first chapters of Flo in the City, I have Flo and May visit Sutherlands and talk about ‘rouge de theatre.’ Sutherland’s doesn’t sell it, but I have May say pharmacies in Boston do.

In the 1906 Sears there is a listing for rouge de theatre. But not in the 1906 Eaton’s catalogue.

That catalogue has preparations for the teeth, hair, skin, etc, but no rouge, per se, although one product suggests it is to be used as a cheek reddener: Madame Rupert’s red rose paste. She also sells face bleach. (Purity, purity.)

Funny, the toilet waters and soaps are little different from what is sold today, especially in stores specializing in natural products. In the catalogue there is a cucumber and glycerine toilet soap. Gee, I just made myself up some of that yesterday. (I like to make my own facials.)

Now, in my story, I suggest that Edith uses rouge de theatre, but rather secretively. Rouge, in those days, was generally considered what only prostitutes used. (So once again the Social Evil informs the life of the Good Girl.)

I guess they called it rouge de theatre to imply only actresses used it. Actresses, it seems, in those days, bridged the gap between disrespectful and respectful women, much as they do today, with respect to ordinary sexually active women and women of porn. (I just thought of that.)

But whatever is good for business is ‘good’ and makeup is very very very good for business. It’s illusion, in so so many ways. One of the key illusions is that you are actually getting your money’s worth!

Today, the ads on TV are still aimed at us Boomers, all for huge-expensive anti-aging creams of dubious effectiveness.

Looking For Mrs. Peel -Part 3

My grandmother, at about 72, the age she was when she visited in 1967.

I have only one or two more installments of Flo in the City, my novel in progress based on the letters of http://www.tighsolas.ca/, to end 1908. And, then, I will probably go back and edit what I’ve written so far. I now interrupt my Flo in the City blog to bring you my third installment of Looking for Mrs. Peel, my ‘radio play’ about the Summer of Love, Expo 67, WWII and the Fall of Singapore…not to mention waterboarding. It can be found -with audio visual links-at my Looking for Mrs. Peel Blog.

Scene Four: Lemon Creek Living Room

SOUND: Announcer on radio

Roger Scott broadcasting live on location from Expo 67 Or Girl Watching Central.( sx cheesy wolf whistle sound effect) Everywhere you turn a gorgeous young thing in a sarong, sari, or kimono. Still it takes more than a beautiful face and perfect proportions to be a hostess at the fair. All 240 Official Expo hostesses speak both English and French…and have some college; And lucky me,in a minute, I get to interview two leggy birds from the British Pavilion whose miniskirts are the envy of all the Expo hostesses, (ID. CFOX. MontreeeeALL The Island City) But first this word from Clairol. Who writes this shit?

(sx radio: Sad-sack women’s voice: Oily hair?? My hair is so oily this big man from Texas came up and asked if he could invest. PSSSt. Good news for you; fade)

Marthe: Mark. Dorothy. Come to the window. They’ve found a parking space right in front.

Dorothy Vo: She is small. Very very small. With a broken down sparrow body, the high forehead and steely gaze of a chicken hawk and a giant square chin just like that Tasmanian Devil on TV. Her hair is snow white and short cropped. My tall tall father shyly takes her little birdy hand as she materializes onto the sidewalk from the rusty cocoon of our Austin Cambridge car. With my fine-tuned daughterly radar I can sense that despite his big bones and broad shoulders, my dad is the one feeling very very small.

Dorothy: I bet Granny’s never seen anything like Madame Dufour’s pink Thunderbird with the wings at back.

Mark: They’re fins, tail fins, not wings.

Dorothy: I bet they don’t even have cars in Malaya. Bunga’s father doesn’t drive!

Mark: No they travel by rickshaw and elephant, mostly.

Dorothy vo: My peregrine progenitor has to pause three times to catch her breath as she climbs the 18 or so freshly swept stairs to our second story 5 and a half.

Marthe: Don’t crowd the door.

Peter: (Indistinct grumble)

Martha: Dorothy, so pleased to finally meet you. This is Mark,our eldest and, this, of course is “my” Dorothy, or String Bean as we call her. (whispers: Mark:HO HO HO Green Giant. Dorothy:Shut up Mark)

Granny: Oh, Martha. What enormous children you have

Martha: Well, I am very proud of my cooking. I am French.

Daddy: (growl)

Martha: Mark, help your dad bring up your grandmother’s suitcases. Dorothy, you must be exhausted. Let me show you your room.(fade) I hope you like the colour yellow, we bought new curtains for your visit. And we finally found a store that sells yogurt, so you can have your usual breakfast in bed.

Granny: Oh, you needn’t have bothered.

Scene Five: Nixon Living Room

SOUND: Drone of TV. (CFCF 12 Montreal)

Man on TV: Good Evening.I am Pierre Berton. Last month the Australian Rock Group, the Seekers, sang at Expo67 and their performance was broadcast live to over 70,000,000 people worldwide by Telstar satellite. Newton N. Minow, the US Broadcast Regulator (who famously called Television a “vast wasteland” back in 1961) claims that satellite technology, will, in the long run, have more of an impact than space technology, because spaceships only send men into space while satellites will send ideas into space. Our special guest today is Marshall McLuhan, University of Toronto professor …fade

Dorothy vo: A few days later, Granny, recently retired colonial librarian, lectures my older brother on a point of media literacy.

Mark: When Bridge on the River Kwai played on TV, the next day everyone at school was whistling (whistles tune) I told them my grandfather helped build that bridge.

Granny: Oh Mark. Don’t believe anything you see in the cinema. It’s all bosch. If you – and your sister – come to visit me in Malaysia I’ll let you read some first hand accounts. Many of my good friends died on that beastly Thai Burma Railroad. Yes, many friends, British, Chinese, Malay and Indian.

Dorothy: When I go can I have a mongoose like Riki Tikki Tavi ? I don’t want to be gobbled up by a King Cobra like Daddy’s dog. And I don’t want lizard tails to fall into my oatmeal. No way. And I don’t want to see a monkey being killed, because they cry just like human babies, Dad says.
Granny: Girl. Whatever are you chattering about? What tall tales has your father been telling you?

Dorothy vo: So, I decide to ignore my grandmother, which is easy as it is Canada’s Centennial year and those magical Expo islands are only a short bus and metro ride away. (sx Mexican mariachi band. Israeli fiddle; Trinidad steel drums). Expo, with its mishmash of experimental eye-candy architecture,is better than real life, anyway, a mind bending multi-national experience, McLuhan’s Global Village in giant size diorama. I lope miles over the macadam on my long giraffe legs and queue for hours in line in the wilting humidity,(or biting wind or freezing drizzle, whatever the 6 month Expo season serves up)to gawk at cultural signifiers like wallabies and totem poles and scorched space capsules and visit “the future” with its talking robots and video phones, and uncluttered modular dwelling places. At the International Broadcasting Center, around the corner from where my father works, I see how radio programs are produced (in tiny little rooms) and learn that it takes a mile of tape to make an hour of TV.
When my senses get overwhelmed I visit the Australian Pavilion to sink my burning toes into the decadent deep wool carpet there, or I escape to the near people-free garden behind the glittering geodesic dome of the American Pavilion to lie down in the prickly grass, by some mini waterfall, often the lone fleshly figure amid the park’s many bizarre Cezanne-inspired sculptures. But not always

Scene 5 1/2 Park at Expo
(sx) water, wind

Dorothy: I like your lipstick. What colour is it?

Woman: Blue Surf by Yardley. The London Look

Dorothy: Yardley opens your eyes.

Woman:Huh?

Dorothy: That’s their slogan – in Mademoiselle oh

Dorothy I like your white Go Go boots too

Woman: Oh, they are part of my uniform.

Dorothy Uniform?

Woman: I’m a hostess at the Kaleidoscope Pavilion

Dorothy: You are a beauty queen then. The TV said every hostess at Kaleidoscope is a beauty queen. .

Woman; They exaggerate. I was a contestant in the Miss Canada Pageant, that’s all.

Dorothy:That’s pretty good

Woman: Yea, that’s pretty good

Dorothy: What are you reading? Beooo

Woman: Beautiful Losers

Dorothy: Is it good?

Woman: Sort of. It’s by Leonard Cohen. He’s from Westmount, you know

Dorothy: Read me a bit

Woman: No. It’s too grown up for you. But I can recite the words to Suzanne for you.. Have you heard the song on the radio?

Dorothy Sort of

Woman: Well Suzanne was a poem before it was a song. We studied it in literature class. Suzanne takes you down. Beside the still water..

Dorothy:Sorry.I gotta go and meet my brother. We were watching movies at the Cuban Pavilion. About the Revolution. But I got bored.

Dorothy VO:I do watch dozens of other movies at Expo67, much much happier movies. Multi-screen movies, interactive movies, movies that surround the audience 360 degrees and movies where the stage- and audience- move around the screen. Movies where the medium is the message. Movies that teach about point of view. And sometimes, on the site, if I hear the sound of polite applause rippling my way I know a major movie star or world celebrity is soon to rise up out of the ether. Twiggy? Princess Grace?

Scene Six: Expo 67

SOUND: wave of applause, growing louder

Martha: Look! It’s Bobby Kennedy and his family.

Dorothy: Where?

Martha: Over there.

Dorothy: I can’t see anything except his golden hair. All those men in black

Martha: Those are his secret service agents. He has a lot of protection. He has to have.

Scene Seven: Nixon Living Room

SOUND: background cocktail party chatter. coughing in background

Dorothy VO: Returning home I wolf down a savory pot au feu and catch a summer rerun of a favorite TV show,the Man from UNCLE, and drop with numb knees onto my little cot. My father, an accountant for the Fair Commission, works late most nights, so my mother tackles a second shift, entertaining Granny, who fairly crackles with charisma in the company of grownups, especially men.

Granny: Yes, Martha. A double scotch would be fine. We made our own amusements in those days. Dances at the Royal Selangor Club,in the Reading Room on Saturdays. Cricket on the padang. Once I was given a polo pony by the Sultan of Jahore’s son Bu. For keeping him on the straight and narrow, before a match. And, I was the only woman ever allowed into the men’s bar at the Club, as Selangor’s official cricket scorer; and in 1953 I was actually filmed scoring a match in a March of Time newsreel about the Emergency. Millions saw me.

Man: (chortle. grunt.)

Granny: The children were in England, at school.

Man: HUH?

Granny. Of course I missed them. But duty called – and my duty was to my husband. Still, during the Depression I travelled steerage to England on a banana boat just to see them.

Man: Grumble Granny: If you are referring to Somerset Maugham, I must warn you. He has painted a rather unflattering portrait of colonials. In my opinion he’s a misogynist. He hates women.

Martha: I know what misogynist means. I was taught both Greek and Latin at the College Marguerite Bourgeoys. Jules, did I tell you about my visit on the Royal Yacht Britannia. Il ya deux semaines. The Queen was in Halifax and the boat had to go back and get her. Meanwhile Peter and I were invited to a soiree on board, on June 28, I think. Well, the lights were off deckside and there were frogmen in the water and a crewman asked me why I wanted to kill the Queen. I said, “I don’t want to kill the the Queen. I’m not a maudite separatist. He said he didn’t care one way or da udder because he was Welsh.

Granny: Ah, what an appalling thing to say, even in jest.

Dorothy: (coughing) Mummy, I can’t sleep. The smoke is coming in under the door.

Martha: I’ll open annuder window.