I know, I know. I'm on a major 1983 kick right now. Hang in there with me; it'll pass.
I'm posting this clip simply because I can't stop watching it. It's just that good.
p.s. This was one of the earliest examples of me falling madly in love with a gay man. Man, Michael Stipe was such a cutie, with all of that angst and gorgeous curly hair.
Oh yes, on the couch with Josh M., it was October 1987, and we're in Sarah T.'s basement rec room. I remember I was wearing the Benetton sweater that I got for my 17th birthday a few days earlier.
"Benetton, nice." Josh said, partly into my lips, partly into my cheek. I guess he saw the tag, or something, when I moved to his lap.
"Birthday," I whispered. I kicked off my shoes.
"Oh, right," he murmured. "Happy birthday."
"Thanks," I said. The word had no sound.
***
Here's "Moments In Love," by Art of Noise, the song of choice for Making Out in those days.
This is not the official cut of the song, but it's my favorite arrangement, with the piano interlude at the beginning.
Have a wonderful Saturday night, everyone
...may you all get felt up tonight.
p.s. The Eighties were a FABULOUS time to be young.
I'd place the date on this ad as being between 1961 and 1964. Even network television got in on the Hootenanny trend:
My favorite of the Hootenanny groups was The Journeymen, which was Dick Weissman, Scott McKenzie, and John Phillips. This was filmed in the fall of 1963.
I'm en route to getting ready for Date Night, but I was so appalled by this clip, I had an urge to blog about it immediately!
Karen J., you evil and tortuous soul, how can you claim to be "one of my biggest fans" and then release this piece of fresh Hades upon me, knowing full well that I would have to do a post about it here? Devil woman, you!
Words...fail me. I didn't think even The Sixties were capable of children's toys that could only be played successfully by feigning an epileptic fit. But here it is: Swing Wing.
Gary Lewis fronted a group called Gary Lewis and The Playboys, who released a marvelous tune called "This Diamond Ring." They also had a modest hit in a ballad called 'Tina," written for Tina Sinatra.
Gary Lewis went on to serve in Vietnam. He returned as so many others did: a broken man, addicted to heroin.
Jerry Lewis responded to his plight by shunning him. As I said, grade-A asshole.
Enough about that.
Any time a TWA spot crosses my path, I literally squeal with joy.
The real gem in this clip, however, is the promotional bit for Gene Autry's Continental Hotel. One year after this program aired, the hotel was sold and renamed The Continental Hyatt House. That's right, ladies and germs: this hotel is the legendary Riot House.
Ken and I stayed at Riot House when we visited L.A. in summer 2000. It was really kind of a dump. A faded beauty with secrets to share. In other words, I loved every single minute I was there. It's also very handy to all of the seediness on the Sunset Strip.
Finally, there's a beautiful "snake" NBC logo with the three tones at the end.
Somebody get me a cigarette.
Massive thanks to Anonymous, who sent this to me. I can understand not wanting to be associated by name with me and the rabble who read this blog, but couldn't you have come up with a pseudonym? I want to thank you for reals!
This clip is from the mid Fifties. I especially like the end where the little slices of pizza disengage themselves from the rest of the pie. I'm unsure as to whether or not Chef Boyardee is the equivalent of pizzeria pizza, as the clip claims, but it does have a special flavor all its own that I am sure has nostalgic value for many of you here.
Just breathe in the glamour (the scent of pot, Wrigley's spearmint gum, and horniness, coupled with Love's Deep Earthy Musk or Love's Musky Jasmine...or Yves Saint Laurent Opium, borrowed from Mom for this special night).
Kids in 1977 knew that prom traditions often involved the family, be it borrowing your old man's Chevy for an evening of revelry, or posing with your mother under a tree for a photo.
Mom in the second picture incarnates why I love vintage things so damned much. Did she go to the beauty parlor herself that morning to have her hair teased so that a good foot was added to her overall height? Did she use spit to style her bangs?
As for the youth in the first picture, did his family move onto the Clutter Family farm after the cops and Capote left, or something? Talk about a desolate prairie. It looks like perhaps some sort of shantytown exists in the background. Perhaps this young man was going to prom at Jonestown! How did he get such a fashion-forward tuxedo in Guyana?
How could I forgotten today's prom tune? Here's The Sylvers with "Hot Line." This song peaked at #5 on the Billboard chart for two weeks in January/February 1977.
Sometimes it's best to let photos speak for themselves. I love how natural the girls look, with soft pretty hair and understated makeup. The young girls who go to prom today...well, it's all just so much of a production; the drag queens on RuPaul's Drag Race have nothing on today's generation of prom-going girls!
Turn the volume up loud...you know you want to! This song hit #1 on the Billboard chart on January 15, 1977.
Just sit back and soak in the glamour that only orange blossoms fashioned from tissue paper can bring.
A coordinated tuxedo to his gal's pretty pink dress? You cannot beat that for style! She's so winsome and lithe; he's so Everybody's All-American. I wonder if her mother made her dress all special? Do you notice that it kind of resembles the Carrie White glamourwear?
(p.s. As is the case with all of my bloggings, I make fun of my subjects, but deep down within, there is a healthy respect...for the effort that was made, for the history involved, for the sheer charm that comes from innocence and youth. Such is the case here. I'm teasing about them, sure; but can you imagine the glamour and excitement of that dance? Those orange blossoms were fashioned with such care! Such a lovely chuppah for the prom couple to pose under! Can you just hear the thump thump thump of the disco beat on the dance floor? I'm talkin' burn, baby, burn...Disco Inferno! Burn, baby, burn...burn that mutha down!)
