The Story of an Item Tumblr project is flat out brilliant

There is something incredibly fascinating about the lives of vintage items before they reach us (a topic I chatted about here back in 2011), as well as and how they came to be a part of our own worlds. Add in what they mean to a vintage lover once they're in our closets, shelves, bookcases, you name it, and I can scarcely think of more enjoyable reading for a fan of days long past, yet perpetually dear to our hearts in the here and now.

Very recently I was contacted by a lovely lady named Zohar from Israel who had launched a Tumblr blog called Story of an Item. The premise behind this blogging project is that Zohar contacts vintage loving folks and asks them to share about one of their favourite vintage items or one that is otherwise of importance and/or substantial interest to that individual. It could be a piece from their shop (if they're a seller), a once in a lifetime find, a beloved family heirloom, a stellar flea market score - anything at all. Where the item came from matters less than what it means to that person.

In their own words entirely (aka, she does not, at present, interview them in the traditional interview sense), Zohar encourages folks to share about this piece and their love of the past in general. She then couples that text with one or more photographs of the item and weaves together beautiful posts for her newly launched Tumblr project.

{One of the photos of me sporting the item that I chatted about in my Story of an Item project post. This piece will always be as near and dear to my heart as any vintage item could possibly be.}

I was flat out honoured to be amongst the first people to appear on Zohar’s Tumblr blog, with the post about one of my absolute most treasured vintage items ever - and why it holds such a poignant place in my heart - appearing there last weekend. You can check out that post here.

There is such a deeply rooted sense of beauty to letting someone describe why a certain matters to them in the ways that it does, in their own words and I am nothing short of enamored with this project. Tumblr is the one uber big mainstream social media site that I've never joined (in part because there are already far too few hours in the day to be as active as I might usually like on the ones that I am on), but I tell you, her project is making me give serious thought to doing just that for the first time ever.

In addition to shining the spotlight on me, my blog, and my Etsy shop in that lovely post, Zohar has also featured two other well known vintage aficionados so far (Solanah from Vixen Vintage and Jamie Lee from Chatter Blossom). I'm nothing short of enthralled by this project and can hardly wait to see who she shines the spotlight on next. Whether I join Tumblr or not, you can bet your bottom dollar that I'll be following this project closely and reading each new entry in it with the deepest of interest.

If you would like to take part yourself, please contact Zohar by email. She's looking to focus solely on vintage clothing and accessories at this point in time, so please keep that in mind if you want to take part in this great project.

Thank you so much for involving me with Story of an Item, Zohar. I am touched through and through that you did. Keep up the great work. You've really hit on something memorably fantastic here!

What being unique means to my life

Every week, nay, nearly every day, I receive emails from companies that are woefully ill suited to my blog (and often personal interests, too) suggesting that I write a promotional post on their behalf for my blog featuring one of more their products or promotions - usually things like trips to countries, wonderful though they may, that I'll likely never step foot in; home appliances I shalln't be buying anytime soon, or flower delivery services that don't even send order to my country. While part of me appreciates, from a business standpoint, why such companies send out these generally entirely boiler plate filled emails, I never act upon them.

Their impersonal requests, sent to hundreds, if not thousands of folks on all rungs of the blogger popularity ladder do to not speak to me. They don't stir my heart, cause me to stop in my tracks and get lost in a thunder storm of thoughts. They are not who I am and what my blog is about. Yet for every rule there is an exception and when said exception comes delivered with your name and a friendly note from someone you've already had pleasant correspondence with, that feeling shifts radically.

Earlier this week I received just such a (positive) email from the fine folks at Unique Vintage. The message, simple, polite, and earnest, merely wondered if I'd be interested in taking part in their recently launched #iamunique campaign which encourages people from around the world to use that hashtag for their photos, tweets, posts, what have you, anytime they want to convey the message that they are indeed unique.

{A handful of the awesome people that Unique Vintage has highlighted as part of their inspiring #Iamunique campaign.}

We've all heard the jaded axiom before: "You're unique, just like everyone else" or some variation (often with the world special used in lien of unique) before. And it's precisely that, an apathetic line delivered, more often than not with an air of smugness and and thumbing of the nose towards the notion that each of us is unique.

Sad really, because we are. Even those who, for better or worse, spend much of their time and energy emulating others are unique beings. No two people, not even identical twins are every truly, exactly the same.

It is our our differences, our similarities, and yes, even our specialties that make us unique. You could quickly trust your hand up in the air say, but wait, aren't they just using the word unique because it's in the name of their company. And if you do, my answer would be a kindly delivered, "So what?". If, as Marshall McLuhan wrote back in the 1960s, the medium is the message, than it's high time that the media of hashtags and social (fittingly) media itself, a rather cloistered and at times carbon copied segment of modern society, embraced and celebrated the concept of what being unique really means.

After all, I thought to myself, as I read what this campaign is aiming to do and how the word unique tied into Unique Vintage's very moniker, I too took a word from one part of my world and applied it to another when naming my blog.

Long time readers who have been with me for many a year now, bare with, as I know you've heard this tale before (I promise you though, you haven’t heard it quite like it). It warrants telling again, for it is part of what makes me and my very blog itself unique.

You see, once a while back, nearly six years ago to be precise, I was in my mid-twenties and incredibly ill. I mean, scary, kiss-the-ground-each-morning-because-you-woke-up ill. I'd already been a multiple chronic illness fighter for a few years and at that time I was was going through one of the worst spells of my life on the health front. It lasted for years. I was (physical) weak and incredibly exhausted. Pain alone would have been a welcome respite from the nightmarish agony I was living. Tears took more energy then I could muster most days. But I didn't feel sorry for myself or bemoan my lot in life - for I still had life and hope and the perpetually present thought that I was more than just the sum of my medical problems.

I began to focus, if only in my mind, on those very things. The elements that made me whole and interesting. Those that had walked with me since my earliest memories and others that hopped on an open box car somewhere along the way in this wild journey we call existence.

There was my immeasurable passion for animals. The way I could scent the world with the fragrance of vanilla tobacco smoke and never tire of it (I don't, and have never, smoked, I just madly adore that scent). There were the countless books, lapped up with more gusto than a kitten going at a saucer of milk. There was my camera, trusty companion, sometimes source of income, silent witness to things far too easily forgotten, buried beneath the weight of the daily grind.

There was the reams of research done in the name of my family's genealogy. Always searching, always wanting to know and understand more. To see not only branches but the very roots of my kin's own tree. There were dolls, some new, some old, and a few cherished childhood mementos of various sorts. Letters received and drafts waiting to be sent, all in cursive - the product of a refusal to extinguish an age old art.

In the closet of my mind's eye hung fashions both real and imagined, lingering alongside roses and honeysuckle and wisteria from backyard gardens long moved on from. A million memories like the grains of sands that clung to my young legs on the beaches - second homes, really - of my youth.

There were the scars from battles won and surrenders survived. Literal and metaphorical. Notebook upon notebook of poetry, often my one and only saving grace. There were songs, ballads from kindred spirits and rebel wordsmiths that highlighted and shadowed recollections more vividly than light ever could.

Faces and places, loves and hates. Failures and successes, both spectacular, both powerful, both invaluable in shaping my morals, my ethics, my beliefs, my politics, my compassion. Notes of romance from my husband, his gentle voice, sagely wisdom, twinkling eyes.

Losses and gains, and a hundred million pains and everything and nothing that made me who I was. That made me unique.

I turned to one interest, one passion that had shone like a lighthouse beckon since before I could even read the printed word on my own: history, and by extension this word and world we call vintage.

It was my in my closet, on my bookshelves. It woke me up to hand fistfuls of coins to strangers on sleepy, sun-kissed Saturday mornings. It gave me my first job and many along the road between then and now. It was what made me ask follow up questions to elderly people's stories about their early days. Humbled me in my tracks. Shone and gave and invited me to always return, no matter what.

It knew me as well, perhaps better even, than I knew myself, for it had seen all who came before me and will encompass all who follow. The words that appeared to me next, the very name I bestowed upon this blog - and myself from that point onward - were "chronically vintage".

This love, the beautiful, amazing, endless bank of knowledge was not a negative form of the word chronically, as it is so often implied or needed to be used (as in the case of ongoing health problems). It was a positive. An all encompassing, fantastical, joyful experience that comes from being so very blessed as to be tapped by the universe to preserve and celebrate that past each and every day.

In the midst of a nightmare, I carved out a tiny niche of beauty. My corner of the web, yes, but also a reclaiming of the fact that I was so very, very much more than my medical situation. I was unique, but at the same time united with others in a common interest, a shared adoration.

We are each as unique as our finger prints, our DNA, our souls - and yes, even our blogs and social media statements. That, my sweet dears, is part of the message behind Unique Vintage's campaign and why, unlike all those other emails, this one set my fingers ablaze and spurred today’s post to life. Not entirely unlike when my blog itself came into being late one April evening in 2009.

{#iamunique and wonderful, flawed and human, passionate and perpetually optimistic, and I wouldn't have it any other way.}

Here is to being unique. To walking proud and standing up for your right to be an individual. Brave, elegant, raw, gorgeous, troubled, sweet, hopeful, brilliant, and yes, even stylish. No matter what, no matter where, no matter the cards that life has dealt you. For in being unique, we triumph and we find the strength by which to pick ourselves up when the chips are down and the promise of tomorrow isn't always a given.

#Iamunique, and so too, thank the universe, are each and every one of of you. This is my story. What's yours?

Uncovering the history of Band-Aids

✯ Day 318 of Vintage 365 ✯

 

A few days ago I was taking a shower at a time when I was ridiculously sleepy (never a good move, I know), and in doing so somehow managed to nick the finger on my left ringer finger with my razor so deeply that it cut through the whole nail to the flesh, taking a chunk (from the middle) of the nail with it in the process.

While a bit painful, more than being irked by a spot of discomfort, I was stupefied as to how it happened - especially given that I don't remember placing my left hand near the razor on my leg, but evidently I had done just that.

Once the bleeding (cue Hitchcock movie scene) had stopped and I’d accessed that luckily it wasn't very serious, I finished up my shower, hopped out and put a Band-Aid on my little wound. Precisely as we've all done with very cuts, scratches, and "boo-boos" throughout our lives.

Perhaps to distract my mind from my uncharacteristically clumsy move, as I slipped the flexible little dressing out of its thin paper wrapper, I began to think about the history of Band-Aids.

I recalled that they'd been around since at least the 30s (when I was about nine years old, and considering at the time one day going to a career in medicine, I bought a wonderful little black metal first aid kit from the late 30s at an auction, inside of which were some very old unused Band-Aids) and were originally launched by Johnson & Johnson, but beyond that I knew I'd have to turn to the history books.

Interestingly, those time-preserved Band-Aids I had from the thirties were well on their way to being amongst the first batch ever made (though certainly, that wasn't the case - I just mean that they were from the early days of this great invention's life), as Band-Aids first hit the scene in 1920.

Appling a dressing to a wound is certainly not a twentieth century concept. I'd venture to say that for as long as people have been injuring themselves, they've been covering up their wounds with some material or another (such as leaves or thin pieces of animal skin). Evolutionarily speaking it makes a lot of sense to try and cover your injuries - not only to promote healing, but also to help keep the scent of blood to a minimum when our ancient ancestors were surviving as hunters facing down menacing wild beasts for their own survival.

Such drastic measures where not the inspiration behind why a fellow named Earle Dickson, a Johnson & Johnson employee, created the first adhesive bandages that we now know as Band-Aids back in 1920 though. Instead he was trying to come up with a quick dressing that his wife, who - so the story goes - was prone to injuring herself in the kitchen, could easily and quickly apply when she got hurt.

Prior to the modern adhesive bandage's invention, one needed to apply both gauze (or a similar, medically safe material) and an adhesive tape if they wanted a wound dressing that was really going to stay put for a while. What Earle did was to combine the two into one compact, quick and easy product that anyone could carry with them in a first-aid kit, handbag, or pocket.

The first commercially produced Band-Aids were a bit bigger than the ones we're familiar with today, and they were all cut by hand. By the mid-20s however, the process became more streamlined and mechanized, and the popularly of this very handy product began to soar.

In the years since this nifty creation has found its way into countless homes and hospitals around the world, and has truly been a godsend for many of us on more than one occasion.

While originally packaged in metal tins (as they continued to be for several decades), these days most Band-Aids come in paper boxes (though you can sometimes still find them in the lovely metal tins many of us remember from our youth).

{A wonderful mid-twentieth century vintage ad for "Sheer Band-Aids" that includes an image of the great metal type of tin that Band-Aids used to come packaged in. Image via Jon Williamson's terrific Flickr stream.}

 

At the end of the 30s Band-Aids became sterilized (thus making them even more beneficial as a healing agent for wounds). While other innovations have occurred over the years (and today one can find Band-Aids, be they manufactured by Johnson & Johnson or other brands, in a vast array of sizes and patterns), the basic principle of an all-in-one gauze/adhesive combo remains the same today as it did back in the roaring twenties.

So while the history of Band-Aids isn't the most action packed one ever, it's great to know these super useful little wound dressing have been around for ninety-one years now. One can only guess at how many Band-Aids the world's population has used over this vast expanse of time. Certainly millions upon millions, if not billions by now.

I however just needed one for my silly little accident the other day - a sweetly adorable pink Hello Kitty patterned one from a box that my husband (knowing how much I love Hello Kitty) had picked gotten for me a few months ago.

Cute as these particular bandages are, I've got my (other wound-free!) fingers crossed that I won't be doing anything that clumsy again - and thus in need of another Band-Aid - for a good long while though!

Vintage 365: Remembering the man who invented mail-order shopping

✯ Day 48 of Vintage 365 ✯

{Vintage page featuring three women in smartly styled rayon dresses and very eye-catching hats, from the 1939 Montgomery Ward catalog. Image via Wondertrading on Flickr.}

 

The name Aaron Ward might not be a household one any more these days, yet the world of shopping was forever changed by this chap in the later half of the nineteenth century when he pioneered the idea of mail ordering. A shrewd business man with an eye for what people wanted, Ward came up with the idea of offering customers the ability to buy products by mail when he was a sprightly young traveling salesman.

Bothered by the fact that he routinely saw many Americans (particularly, he felt, those in rural areas) being grossly overcharged and under-served by small town retailers (whom they had to turn to for all of their shopping needs), in 1872 Ward came up with the novel idea of offering customers the ability to buy products from a retailer located outside of their immediate area.

Though this idea now seems as commonplace as bread to us, at the time it was viewed by many to be strikingly innovative - and rather nuts, by others. Ward didn't let his critics and naysayers get to him though, as he ploughed on and formed the Montgomery Ward & Company shop that same year. Ward went onto publish what is often considered to be the world's first general merchandise mail-order catalogue in 1872, as well, which contained a modest 163 products.

Jump ahead to the twentieth century and Montgomery Ward had become one of America's most popular mail-order catalog services, beloved by many from coast to coast. Though it wasn't long before other merchants and companies saw the wisdom of Ward's terrific mail-order catalog and began producing versions as well (think companies like Sears, who debuted their first mail-order publication in 1896), for numerous decades the Montgomery Ward  catalog was a mail-order standard throughout the States, Canada and beyond.

Though Aaron Ward passed away in 1913, and his company (Montgomery Ward) has shifted over the years from bricks and mortar shops paired with mail-order catalogs to an online retailer, February 17th marks this innovative businessman's birthday, and as a lifelong catalog lover, I wanted to take a moment to remember – and celebrate the life of - the man who brought mail-order shopping to the masses.

Thank you very much, Mr. Ward, for helping to revolutionize - and forever improve - the society shops! Though I haven't bought from your company directly, I've long been a big a fan of your catalogs - particularly those from the mid-twentieth century (such as the one from 1939 which included the image in today's post) - and very much appreciate what you did for the world of buying and selling.

Vintage 365: Slide show celebrates 125 years of Ladies Home Journal magazine

✯ Day 13 of Vintage 365 ✯

 

Ladies Home Journal is a rather venerable American magazine that has been gracing everything from Victorian parlours to flour-covered kitchen tables since it emerged on the scene in 1883 (back when it had the lengthier name of "The Ladies Home Journal and Practical Housekeeper"). Though I can't honestly say that I frequently read this magazine in its modern form, in my vintage journeys over the years, I have chanced upon a number of mid-twentieth century copies that always struck a resounding cord with me (old school women's magazines as a whole are something that I adore!) - a few have even found their way onto my vintage magazine shelf.

Yesteryear magazines are one of the most effective and splendid ways to get a quick snapshot of an exact moment in time, especially those that span a range of topics like fashion, lifestyle tips, home decor, parenting and cooking, such as Ladies Home Journal. Even a magazine cover alone can tell you a great deal, while at the same time often being a beautiful piece of art. To that extent Ladies Home Journal has a wonderful slideshow on their website that shows thirty different covers that span the first several decades of the magazine’s nearly thirteen decades of life.

From the timeworn black and white (now elegantly cream with age) cover from 1883 to the highly colourful illustrations of the 1930s Depression years that were intended to inspire hope and happiness in readers, these magazine images are an engaging look at at the history and social relevance of Ladies Home Journal.

Naturally, I'm partial to those spanning the 30s and 40s (such as the stellar March 1943 "girl power" cover above that depicts a mom and daughter hard at work repairing a car), but each cover is deeply intriguing and lovely in its own terrific right, and I enjoyed viewing these magazines so much that I wished they'd included far more than just 30!

Wonderful Wednesday Recipe: Eunice’s English Lemon Curd

Last Wednesday’s introduction of a weekly recipe post was met with great enthusiasm, and I must extend a very big thank you to everyone who left comments on my Welsh Rarebit recipe (like some of you, I always thought the word “rarebit” sounded like “rabbit” as a child, luckily this dish is 100% bunny-free though, I assure you! :D). I can scarcely begin to tell you how elated I am to be sharing some of my favourite recipes with you all, and how much I’m looking forward to celebrating the art and fun that is cooking together.


Eunice’s English Lemon Curd
For a period of my childhood I was fortunate enough to live in a delightfully old house (built in 1909, to be exact), on a small, sleepy street that teamed with elderly neighbours. Some of them had lived in their respective houses for decades upon decades, but Eunice was not one of them. I really can’t recall how long she’d lived in the tiny creamy beige hued house directly across the street from us, but I don’t think it had been more than a couple of decades.

An English immigrant, she and her husband had come to Canada somewhat later in life and eventually settled on the very same street where I lived for a spell. Enchanted with all things British as a child and charmed by Eunice’s kind, spunky attitude, we quickly became friends.

If there was one thing I liked almost as much as listening to Eunice’s tales of life in England during the war years, it was when she would stop by and treat our family to a jar or two of her sublimely delicious lemon curd. In fact, it was this darling elderly English woman who provided me with my very first taste of the creamy, tart, sweet, immensely addictive spread that is lemon curd.

You can imagine my delight then when one day Eunice stopped round to ask if my little brother and I would like to help her whip up a new batch. With eyes wide as the saucer she rested her mixing spoon on, I stared intensely as Eunice turned a small handful of everyday ingredients into one of the tastiest substances my young pallet had thus far enjoyed.

I’ve always treasured times when I’ve been able to learn recipe’s firsthand from other cooks and loved that I was able to come away from that day not only with a very fond memory, but also with Eunice’s recipe for lemon curd. Whether it was one she perfected herself or sourced from someone else, I really do not know.

Over time I’ve tweaked little about her version – save for occasionally replacing the lemon juice with that of another fruit such as limes (you may want to add even slightly more sugar if you go this route), mangoes, or blood oranges. The ingredients are just as Eunice stipulated, though the instructions are in my own wording.



{This beautiful old fashioned fruit crate label calls to mind the sort I like to imagine the containers of lemons Eunice brought home (when she was a young homemaker) being adorned with. Image via Vintage Holiday Crafts.}


To my mind lemon curd finds its most perfect mate with a piece just prepared toast, the refreshing, tangy coolness of the curd marrying harmoniously with the soothing warmth of the bread. This spread however, works well on a multitude of other baked goods, too, from English muffins (naturally) to scones, blueberry or poppy seed muffins to biscotti (in the case of the latter, use the curd as a dip for these crisp Italian cookies).

It can also be employed with equal success as a filling (think cakes, trifles, cupcakes, doughnuts, cheesecakes and tarts – to name but a few possible uses) or thinned out a tad and drizzled over everything from pound cake to French toast, Greek yogurt to ice cream (it marries particularly well with berry flavoured frozen desserts).

If you’ve never treated yourself to lemon curd before, I can scarcely begin to tell you what you’ve been missing. If you like custards, lemon and/or jam, there’s a very high chance you’ll fall, just as I first did as youngster, head-over-heels for lemon curd and soon yourself mixing up batches to give away to your friends and neighbours, just as Eunice used to love to do.


Ingredients

• 3 large lemons (if you can get Meyer lemons, all the better, they have such a beautiful, gentle flavour)

• 4 extra large eggs

• ¼ cup unsalted butter (allow to come to room temperature before using)

• 1 ½ cups white sugar

• ½ cup lemon juice (this equates to the juice of about 3 to 5 lemons, depending on their size)

• Small pinch of fine sea salt


Directions

Notes: While it may not actually make too much of a difference, I like to have all of the fruit and fruit juice I’m going to use in this recipe at room temperature before beginning.

Start by washing and drying the lemons thoroughly, then with a citrus zester or vegetable peeler, zest (remove in strips) all of the peel (try to avoid hitting the bitter white pith that lies between the peel and the fruit’s flesh). Chop the zest very finely by hand or in a food processor. In a mixing bowl (or in the food processor) combine the lemon zest with the sugar and mix (or pulse) well.

In a separate bowl, cream the unsalted butter well with a wood spoon, then add in the lemon and sugar mixture, stirring to combine. Next introduce the eggs one by one, beating well after each inclusion. Once all four of the eggs have been added, stir in the lemon juice and salt; stir until all of the ingredients are thoroughly combined.

To a non-reactive, heavy bottom saucepan (stainless steel is terrific here) that holds at least 2 litres (2 quarts) add the raw lemon curd mixture and cook over low (or even extra low, if your stovetop/cooker gets especially warm) heat (while a gentle simmer is all right, do not let the mixture come anywhere near a bubbling boil). I personally feel that you cannot mix lemon curd too much (the last thing you want is for pieces of cooked egg to start forming!), and recommend that you stir the mixture almost constantly until it has begun to thicken (this usually takes about 9 to 12 minutes in my experience).

To gage the consistency of the lemon curd, coat the back of a mixing spoon (give it a moment to cool down) and run your finger (or the handle of another spoon) through the mixture. If in doing so you leave a clean line with distinct “sides” flanking where the line appears, your mixture has most likely reached the right consistency.

Remove the lemon curd from the heat and pour into a medium sized stainless steel, ceramic or heat-safe glass bowl. Immediately place a layer of plastic wrap (cling film) on top of the lemon curd to prevent a film (skin) from forming as it cools.
Use warm (I dare you not to savour a spoonful straight!) or put the lemon curd into the refrigerator and store (covered) for up to one week. Lemon curd also freezes very well and stored in its frozen state for up to one year.

Makes approximately 3 cups of scrumptious, buttercup yellow lemon curd.

Bon appétit!

Greetings 2010, I’ve been waiting for you!

This week begins what will one day encompass the third decade of my life, ushering in with it the end of ten years that saw much strife and worry the world over. The 2000s were many things to many people, myself included. Though I count myself extremely fortunate that I was not affectedly personally by any of the largest global catastrophes that occurred during the last decade (baring the trickle down effects of the economic crisis most of us are still very much feeling), I would certainly say that I faced innumerable personal challenges along the way.

It was a decade of growth, of pain, of moments that tore at the fabric of my soul, of hope in the face of adversity, of love and laughter, of overcoming the impossible, and immense realization. During the 2000s I morphed from a teenager into a woman, a bachelorette to a wife. I, particularly in the past three or so years, began to truly accept myself. Between the pages of the last ten years, at times, I lived heartache, breathed anguish, felt as alone as the moon, embraced bliss, survived, celebrated achievement, saw certain dreams materialize into entirely different realities, moved on, never stopped hoping.

Some of the very best and the very worst moments I’ve ever known took place in the 2000s, both bolstered me onwards in the most powerful of ways. I haven’t the slightest clue what this newborn decade, the 2010s, holds in store for the world – or myself, none of us do, but isn’t that part of what makes life, the constant sunrises and sets, highs and lows, so very worth it? The possibility that the future holds equal or better opportunities, greater levels of happiness, more beauty than the prior years.

It may sound odd to look to future on a blog devoted squarely to the past, yet in my eyes, the two are not entirely separate beings. In the days of yesteryear, those before my own life began, I find so much to love and embrace, to learn from and aspire to. These elements that speak to my heart help to guide many components of my future, and I hope, will help to make up some of the threads in the fabric of my future.



{The beginning of a fresh decade calls for a little starry eyed optimism, don’t you think? Image, from a 1948 copy of Charm magazine, via myvintagevogue’s Tumblr stream.}


Though it’s the morning of the third day of this massively new year, not the first, I want to take a moment now to say straight from my heart, welcome, 2010, and the decade you launch! No matter what you turn out to be, know that I’m routing for you all the way.

10 per decade: 1900s

It’s scarcely a secret that I have an unyielding love for the decades that comprise the mid-twentieth century. They’re the main focus of this blog and a perpetual source of inspiration for me on every front from fashion to home decor. However, I’ve always been a tremendous fan of many historical time periods (Georgian and Victorian are two perpetual favourites) and recently began to think about elements from decades of the 20th century – other than just the 30s, 40s and 50s – that I’ve long been interested in/inspired by/fascinated with.

Such thoughts lead me to the idea of creating a ten part “miniseries” of posts, each one devoted to a different decade of the twentieth century. Instead of being an exhaustive timeline of events that transpired during each decade, I decided it would be scores of fun to look at ten different elements (one for each year, though not necessarily one from each specific chronological year) – be they clothing trends, historical events, products that were released/created for the first time, famous figures, etc – that I adore and/or feel help to define a given decade for me. True to my usual style, I’m sure you’ll agree that my lists will be splendidly eclectic.

As Maria sang in the Sound of Music, “Let’s start at the very beginning, [it’s a] very good place to start”. In this case the beginning of the 20th century, the decade sometimes referred to as the “hundreds” or, back in the day, the “aughts”.

This was a time of almost overwhelming progress, discovery and change. The Industrial Revolution that had flourished throughout the 1800s was still booming as the world emerged into the first decade of the last century of the second millennium :) Cars were beginning to take to the road, Art Nouveau was still popular amongst artists and art lovers alike, the Wright Brothers were changing the face of air travel with their famous flight at Kitty Hawk, and silent films suddenly had crowds lining up far and wide to see those new fangled motion pictures.



{Gibson Girl}


{As this sparklingly new century began, women’s fashions retained many of the elements of the late Victorian period. Though as the years progressed silhouettes and tailoring softened a bit, the majority of ladies weren’t quite free of the confines of boned corsets quite yet. In fact the centuries old practise of wearing constrictive undergarments would play a large role in helping to create one of the most iconic styles of the 1900s, that of the Gibson Girl. Demure and slender, romantically beautiful and deeply feminine, the original Gibson Girl sprung from an illustration by artist Charles Dana Gibson, though many others would go to draw similar women for everything from product advertising to catalogue pages. With her tumbling curls, softly chiselled features, microscopic waist, and mile-long long legs, the Gibson Girl was a predecessor of sorts for the both pin-up artists and supermodels that would follow in later decades. Image source.}


{Kodak Brownie Camera}


{Introduced in 1900 with the slogan “You press the button, we do the rest”, the Brownie Camera from the Eastman Kodak Co. is often credited with helping to bring photography to masses. Its price tag of one dollar and smaller size meant that cameras could suddenly find their ways into just about any photo enthusiast’s hands for decades to come. Image source.}


{First Girl Guides/Girl Scouts}


{In 1909 a small group of adventurous young girls wanted to take join in the fun activities they saw their brothers and male classmates participating in as part of the newly created Boy Scout movement. Determined that boys weren’t going to be the only ones to call themselves Scouts, these girls donned uniforms and accompanied a large group of lads to a (now famous) rally that was being held at Crystal Palace, where they bravely told the founder of the Boy Scouts, Lord Baden Powel, they too wanted to be (Girl) Scouts. The rest, as they say, is history. Image source.}


{Movie Theatres debut}


{One of the first theatres devoted to showing motion pictures was the Nickelodeon in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, opened in 1905. The cinema’s name – which many will recognize today as the name of a well known TV channel – came from the price of admission (a nickel) and the Greek word theatre (odeion). Soon after many early movie theatres became known as Nickelodeons; such theaters often showed films that were 15 to 20 minutes long. The photo above is of a Nickelodeon theatre in Toronto, Ontario called the Comique, it operated between 1908 and 1914. Image source.}


{Toy Teddy Bears}


{It was a series of events that took place during a 1902 hunting trip that then president Theodore Roosevelt was on (when the president’s hosts captured and tied up a bear cub to ensure Roosevelt wouldn’t go home empty handed, the president insisted the bear’s life be spared and cub was set free) that would spur the creation of the modern teddy bear. Following that much publicized incident, a newspaper cartoon showing the president with a bear cub provided the inspiration that lead a Brooklyn candy store owner named Morris Michtom and his wife Rose to create a plush bear cub they dubbed “Teddy’s Bear”. The stuffed toy bears proved to be highly popular and lead the Michtoms to form the Ideal Novelty and Toy Company, which remains one of the largest toy manufacturers in the US. Though other companies (such as the German brand Steiff) had produced earlier toy bears, the Michtom’s version tamed the “wild animal” aspect of the bear and transformed these critters into the cuddly playthings countless youngsters and toy collectors alike have cherished ever since. Image source.}


{Women participate in the Olympics}


{Women ushered in the century by taking part in the Olympics for the first time ever, at the 1900 summer games held in Paris, France. Though they were only permitted to participate in three events at the time (golf, tennis and croquet) – and the Olympic committee at the time did not officially support their participation in the games – this important milestone event was just one of many that women would go to achieve throughout the decade and onwards through the century. Image source.}


{Anne of Green Gables published}


{In 1908 Canadian author Lucy Maud Montgomery published Anne of Green Gables, the beloved story of a redheaded orphan who was adopted by an elderly couple that had been hoping for a son but were sent a young girl instead. Anne not only wove her way into her hearts of the Cuthberts, but into those of generations of readers young and old the world over. Today Anne and her story are well known symbols of Canada, particularly of Prince Edward Island, the beautiful island province where the book was set. Image source.}


{Animal Crackers}


{Who amongst us hasn’t bitten into a giraffe or tiger at some point, in the form of a biscuit that is! Animal crackers, those darling little cookies shaped like numerous zoo and farm animals have existed for over a century, and have been packaged in their familiar circus themed, rectangular box with a string handle since 1902 (the string was originally added so that the box could be used as Christmas tree decoration).The inspiration behind the box’s iconic packaging design was P.T. Barnum’s hugely popular circus. Image source.}


{Tiffany lamps}


{I’ve long been an admirer of Tiffany lamps, their intricate, gorgeous cut glass designs depicting such themes as flowers and dragonflies channel a wonderful Art Nouveau vibe. In 2007 a New York Times story highlighted the research of two historians that revealed many of Tiffany’s stunning lamps had in fact been designed by one of the company’s head employees, Clara Driscoll, not Louis Tiffany, the company’s founder – a fact that made me love these amazingly beautiful lamps even more. Image source.}


{Gustav Klimt paints The Kiss}


{One of my all-time favourite paintings was created during the “00s”, the endearingly romantic, colourfully elegant piece “The Kiss”, by Austrian artist Gustav Klimt. Painted between 1907 and ‘08, this passionate image depicts a couple in the throes of a tender embrace, the man’s lips gently kissing his lover’s check as the two perch on the end of a flower carpeted cliff. Image source.}


I do not have many personal ties to the 1900s, but I have long admired this decade and the Edwardian era it encompassed. Perhaps my main connection to the early twentieth century ties into the fact that when I was a child we lived for a time in an adorable little house that had been built in 1909. As a youngster who was deeply fascinated by the past (I enthusiastically read history books like many of my peers tucked into comics) – and who watched the TV show “Road to Avonlea” (based on some of Lucy Maud Montgomery’s stories) religiously each week – it felt incredible to call such an old home my own for a few years.

The next post in this series will delve into the 1910s, a decade plagued by both great hardships (WW1, the sinking of the Titanic, etc) and wonderful achievements (such as strives in women’s suffrage), as well as a noticeable change in ladies fashions.

The ten events and items above are some of the ones that jump out at me when I reflect on the 1900s, what happenings from this decade speak to you the most?

Saturday Snapshots {August 22, 2009}

In my perpetual journey through the history of the mid-twentieth century I constantly encounter a truly diverse and incredibly lovely array of photographs that were taken not of famous starlets, legendary singers or others who stood in the limelight, but of wonderful everyday people doing all manner of everyday activities.

These snapshots of the past are, to my mind, as profound (if not more so) than all the celebrity photos imaginable, for they captured the lives of people just like you and I, who were not likely famous, well-known or trailed by paparazzi. Such images were taken by friends, coworkers, neighbours, mothers, fathers, siblings, all manner of relatives – sometimes even by the subject themselves, self portraits being eternally popular, or even by strangers. Sometimes they’re a little blurry, over or underexposed. They may show someone “caught in action” or striking a pose worthy of a Vogue cover. They show the ordinary and the extraordinary moments of lives which were lived just a few decades ago. Some of the people in these kinds of photos may still be alive, others have passed on, and all have in the common the fact that the era they were captured on film in has long since passed.

In these photos we see the lives of strangers, but sense something familiar about them. Who amongst us hasn’t smiled for the camera a thousand times, some of those photos you likely treasured others were forgotten nearly as soon as the shutter released. In looking at photos from the past we see stark differences and overwhelming similarities with the present. After all, “people”, as both my husband and songstress Regina Spektor are fond of saying, “are just people”. This honest statement applies aptly to those whose names we may not know, but find ourselves able to relate to when we see their faces in black and white or faded colour snapshots.

Photographs carry with them a tremendous power, they are often the last living memory of a moment, a link to the past which, I believe, truly deserves to be cherished and preserved for as long as humanly possible. To this extent I decided to start a new segment for Chronically Vintage. Some weeks on Saturdays, I will post a random array of photos of ordinary people from the years spanning the 1920s to the very early 1960s, which I’m calling Saturday Snapshots.

I hope you will join me as we peer into, and garner inspiration from, the daily lives of those who were a living, breathing part of an era that you and I so often strive to capture and celebrate in our own modern world.

♥ ♥ ♥



{There isn’t a single element – from the fantastic Stardust sign to the stylish woman’s stunning gown – that I do not adore about this 1959 photo that was taken in Las Vegas.}



{The little girl in this photo is identified as “Margaret” and the dog as “Beacon”, the timeline is listed as the “early 50s”. While we only see portions of the houses, it looks like a lovely – and in its day, fairly modern – neighbourhood.}



{I like the composition of this shot; we see both the little boys faces, yet do not get to peer upon mom’s. Leaving one to wonder what this woman, in her pretty summer dress, was thinking as she gazed out at the tree covered Smokey Mountains of Tennessee.}



{A smartly dressed, beautiful young woman works away at the typewriter in this photo from 1922. She is identified as being Dorothy Bronson, a reporter from the Chicago Daily News.}



{A group of female students from Harvard look on attentively during a life saving class. A date is not given for this photo, but based on the lovely ladies’ hairstyles and swimsuits, I’d peg it as being from the later forties or early fifties.}



{A group of five people (relatives, friends?) gather round the stylishly set kitchen table, one of them holding up a delicious looking strawberry pie, in this 1955 colour photo that was taken in Huntington Park, California.}



{The crispness of the colours in this photos from 1954 are superb, as are the outfits the glamorous ladies are sporting as they head into the Cliff House Restaurant in San Fransico.}



{Someone from the 1950s thought the grand opening of a Piggly Wiggly grocery store in Fargo, North Dakota was worth taking a snapshot of, and can you blame them, that pig mascot is pretty cute! Just wish they would have got more of the sleek red car on the right into the shot :-) }



{An attractive young couple, identified as being Rafael and Leonor, pose rather somberly for the camera in this portrait taken in Puerto Rico, in 1945.}



{Jack and Yvonne’s wedding looks it was a gorgeous day – just as their matrimonial finery was – in this undated black and white photo (location not specified).}

{All images above are from Flickr. To learn more about a specific image, please click on it to be taken to its respective Flickr page.}


These photos – and those that will appear in future editions of this post – are very random, but each one is tells a story that ties into the collective experience of life that we’re all a part of. I hope you enjoyed this first edition of Saturday Snapshots, I would love to hear your thoughts on these wonderful vintage snaps.

Pretty Link Roundup {August 16, 2009}

The air, warm and humid as the kitchen of a bustling restaurant, has been keeping us up at night and running for a third shower during the day. Sweet Ms. Stella – clearly a Canadian kitty to her very fur lined soul – has become a whiz at finding any spot in the apartment that is even a degree cooler than the rest of the house (such as at the base of the entryway door, sinks, in the “shade” of a bookcase, under darling hubby’s desk, etc). Though, despite the seemingly tropical heat, I can’t help but find myself a little more in love with summer year - or rather, with Ontario’s spin on summer (I never had a problem with the pristinely fantastic, dry as a bone ones I grew up with on the west coast).


{While the heat can certainly get under anyone’s skin after a while, there’s no denying that summer brings with it a massive dose of unparalleled beauty, too. 1950s postcard via StevenM_61’s Flickr stream.}


On Friday this blog hit its 100th post! I can scarcely believe it myself, but it’s true! Over the past four months I’ve written one hundred entries and had the most amazing time sharing in my love of everything vintage with all of you. To celebrate this milestone and also kick off the next hundred posts, I’m holding a giveaway contest in conjunction with the lovely people over at AllModern.com. Be sure to swing by yesterday’s post and enter for your chance to win an absolutely adorable, stylish Alessi kitchen timer.

On the subject of blog posts, I wanted to quickly mention – and apologize for something. In a recent post, I encouraged readers to send me your emails about vintage items that you’re on the hunt for. What I didn’t realize at the time of that post’s writing though, is that the email address I provided (in the post) is currently haywire! It doesn’t seem to working at all (“configuration issues”, according to tech-smart hubby), and so I’m dreadfully afraid that I haven’t received any emails sent to the address Jessica [at] chronicallyvintage.com whatsoever.

If you’ve recently tried to send an email to address and haven’t heard back from me, it is because I didn’t receive your message. I truly apologize about this and please ask you to resend any correspondence to my personal email address, jcangiano [at] gmail.com. Thank you for your understanding in this matter, and again, I’m very sorry if you wrote to me and haven’t heard back yet. Please forward your message and I’ll get back to you on the double!

To help keep the heat off my mind this afternoon, I’ve been diving into a pool of marvelous blogs and have put together a delightful array of wonderful vintage related links, that I hope you’ll all enjoy – and which, if you’re similarly sweltering, will aid in distracting you from the broiling heat for a while, too!


♥ ♥ ♥


* Finding Your Vintage Groove: From the always insightful Super Kawaii Mama, comes a well-written post about examining your own personal sense of vintage style and then finding ways to get the most from your chosen look. Whether you’re new to vintage dressing or a seasoned, dyed-in-the-wool pro, this article is definitely worth reading.


* Hair Inspiration: Bangs, but not Bettie Page: These days when we think of bangs (fringe) and styles of the mid-twentieth century, the hair that lined Bettie Page’s forehead often springs to mind first. However, then as in now, there were many diverse looks one could sport in the bangs department, some of which have been beautifully highlighted in this photo filled post.


* Good Housekeeping, 1955: Box Lunches Part 1: Straight from the pages of a 1950s edition of Good Housekeeping magazine, the terrific blog Haven of Home brings us a list of practical, useful tips on ensuring that lunch box monotony does not set in when you pack meals for your loved ones. (And for the second part of this article, be sure to click here.)


* Summer Travel coast-to-coast, 1949: A wonderful collection of colour images hailing from 1949 of some of the fashion styles that were popular all across American for women sixty summers ago.


* Mad Men wedding styles: From the people who bring you Bride magazine and its online sister site, Brides.com, comes a list of ten ways you can inject a beautiful dose of Mad Men inspired vintage style into your wedding day look.


* Tea Party Chic: This week Wicked Frills brings us a selection of deeply gorgeous tea party worthy vintage dresses. Just the post to inspire anyone who may have a tea – or garden – party or two still to go on their summer calendar.


* Clothes For You – A Pictorial Fashion Show 1954: I really enjoy and appreciate it when people scan (and/or type out) pages from vintage books that I might otherwise have never gotten the chance to see or learn about. Such as in this post which takes a look at the 1954 book “Clothes For You” by Mildred Graves Ryan and Velma, a title that dealt with helping to ensure young women of the time were as fashionable as possible. Along with snippets of text, this post includes some very chic photos showing exactly what ladies of the day were sporting from the pages of that book.


* Not circle skirting – The origins of the circle skirt: Here’s Looking Like You, Kid digs into the humble origins of one of the most iconic looks of the 50s, the circle skirt, in this lovely and informative post.


* Fall college fashions: While the telltale nip of autumn’s breeze may still be a distant dream for many, there’s no denying that summer is winding down and with its end nearing, a return to school is on the horizon for many, including college students. Travel back in time via this Sally Jane Vintage post and take a peek at some pretty collegiate appropriate styles from yesteryear.



A very dear blogging friend of mine, Cait (from in company with sparkles), recently bestowed a most lovely award upon this site (thank you so much, sweet heart!). The premise behind this accolade is that it is to be passed along to blogs which continually inspire you. To this end, the thought occurred to me that instead of simply writing one post and listing a number of inspiring blogs, I would take the spirit of this award and pass it along each weekend to one blog that never ceases to amaze and inspire me, as part of the weekly link roundup post.



There are literally countless blogs that inspire and delight me with their fantastic images, words and themes, so I see no trouble in passing along this award to a great many sites over time.

This week, I would like to bestow the Inspiring Blog award upon Tales of a retro-modern housewife, whose pages are bursting at the seams with vintage fashion, hairstyling, home decor, art and lifestyle information and photos. Retro-Modern Housewife, please feel free to pass along this award to whomever you like or simply accept it with my gratitude for the incredible inspiration your always blog provides me with.


In last week’s video clip we took a gander at elegant ladies fashions from the 1950s, this time around the focus in on the gents, in this short 1954 newsreel piece highlighting some of the latest work and sportswear men’s styles of the day.


{Men’s Fashions 1954}



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Before this post wraps up, I wanted to extend a heartfelt thanks to a wonderful new Flickr friend of mine, Georgianna, who recently wrote about a Chronically Vintage post in which I highlighted one of her resoundingly beautiful photos. If you’ve not had the good fortune to chance upon this lovely lady on Flickr, I really can’t encourage you enough to check out her stunning floral and nature themed photography, which is blended expertly well with artistic flourishes.


{This piece, entitled "Signs of Summer", is just one example of the dazzling, charmingly beautiful photographic work Georgianna creates.}


What have you been up to this weekend, my dears? Have you been soaking up the rays or doing your best to avoid the heat as much as possible? With many weeks of this season behind us at the point, I finally feel like I’ve hit my stride in terms of finding a happy middle ground when it comes to both embracing and contending with summer’s sizzling temperatures. Still, even if summer and I are better friends this time around, like many of us, I’m bursting at the seams with excitement just thinking about autumn’s arrival, whenever it occurs.

Wishing you each a gorgeous, serene and wonderful week ahead!




*PS*

Be sure to keep your evening free tonight, the third season of Mad Men kicks off at 10pm EST (9pm Central) on AMC!

Adventures in vintage advertising: brushing up on the history of toothpaste ads

Like a craving, a bolt of lightning, or the tune to a song you can’t quite recall the correct words to, inspiration for a post can strike anywhere, anytime! :D This morning as I was brushing my teeth, I began thinking about the beautiful way in which toothpaste was often advertised in the past. Ads for this simple, humble daily commodity were (as was the case with so many now vintage products of the past) resplendent works of art in and of themselves.

Long before 4 out of 5 dentists were recommending a particular brand or we had 7,209 various flavours, formulas and colours to choose from, toothpaste was often promoted with a subtle, dignified glamour that makes many of its yesteryear ads worthy of framing.

While those perpetually ahead of their time ancient Egyptians are known to have had a recipe or two for toothpaste, fascinatingly, the commonplace usage of this oral health helper – particularly in conjunction with a toothbrush – did not kick in until the 19th century.

Prior to this time various – and sometimes rather repugnant – formulas for homemade toothpastes (and tooth powders) existed and were employed by some people, but in general dental health was not valued or given even so much as a fraction of the importance it is today.

Luckily for the sake of people who enjoy whispering secrets everywhere, by the Victorian era the use of tooth cleaning products was becoming more and more widely accepted. Towards the end of the eighteen hundreds toothpaste first began appearing in tubes (by 1896 Colgate had produced a “tooth cream” in a tube), a packaging concept that was directly inspired by tubes used to hold artists paint.

As the twentieth century rolled in and onwards, toothpaste (and the use of toothbrushes) gained momentum, which I would venture to say, correlates with the fact that personal hygiene (bathing and washing of one’s hair more often, etc) in general became of greater importance to many people.

Throughout the past century numerous brands of toothpaste emerged onto the market, some of these still exist today, but others are now obsolete (or are much harder to find, such as Ipana - which is still popular in Turkey but rarely found elsewhere these days). Toothpaste ads of the past offer an interesting look into the way oral hygiene has been approached over the past hundred years. Some are little more than simple drawing or photos depicting a certain brand, others (just as with modern day ads) relied on paragraphs of text – and, sometimes promises of what they could do for the buyer – to get the message of their effectiveness across to consumers. Below is a selection of vintage toothpaste ads from the 20th century, each one a glimpse into marketing mind-frame of its respective era.


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{I’m captivated by the sweet, sublimely pretty illustration in this 1917 Pebeco ad. I think that if one were lucky enough to chance upon a copy or a print of it, it would look amazing hung as wall art in the powder room.}



{A lithe little fairy rides atop a tube of Fiat toothpaste in this 1927 Italian ad. I wonder, is this the same Fiat brand known the world over today as a car manufacturer?}



{If we are to believe this Ipana ad, creamy foods were your teeth – and gums’ – worst nightmare in 1934 . Who knew?}



{Aren’t these 1930s woman and their pearly white smiles captivatingly lovely? Though they’re advertising Listerine brand toothpaste, I think they could just have easily been models in a fashion spread of the time.}



{I continually find it both interesting – and perhaps a little sad – that beauty advertisements from the past often blatantly targeted homely gals (the sad part being that they couldn’t just look all women as lovely humans and had to separate the beauty queens from the “plain Janes”). This Ipana ad from 1941 is a prime example of an attempt to appeal their product to women who weren’t “born to beauty”. If you ask me, the women in that photo is a stunner, so I’m not sure if they really conveyed the message they were going for here.}



{Cartoon strip panels – featuring either drawing or photos – which often included the most absurd dialog imaginable, were a popular form of advertisement throughout the mid-twentieth century. This 1941 Colgate ad in which “Sal” morphs from a bad breath totting social pariah to Bob’s future bride is a prime example of what I’m talking about.}



{An elegantly pretty woman graces this no-fuss 1944 ad for Pepsodent toothpaste which ran in the Air Training Corps Gazette.}



{Ads that implied using their brand of toothpaste would ensure you got the date/love of your life were fairly common in the past, such as this 1947 Gleem brand advert in which we see the new couple smooching in a smaller frame on the right hand side.}



{A rather sombre looking woman transforms from reserved to upbeat and chipper the moment she’s asked if she uses Macleans tooth paste, in this ad from 1953.}



{Featuring a series of fantastically mid-century style drawings, this 1956 Crest ad promoted the use of their toothpaste to help “triumph over tooth decay”.}



{With a font that could either be perceived as stylish or frightening, this 1957 S.R. brand toothpaste ad features a neat “block” of water and a gal that looks rather akin to Kirsten Dunst.}



{Does anyone else feel like Colgate was sending slightly mixed signals about tooth health when decided to use a frosted birthday cake in this ad from 1960?.}

{All images above are from Flickr. Please click on an image to be taken to its respective Flickr page.}


What do you think, would these advertisements be enough to convince you to buy their the toothpaste they were selling, or would you much rather just have the wonderful vintage adverts themselves to adorn your scrapbook or walls with?

While it probably wouldn’t be a wise move to use an actual container of vintage toothpaste if you chanced upon one, if you’re wishing that the tubes on the market today had even a fraction of the panache of lovely vintage ones in the ads above, a brand by the name of Marvis makes some extremely beautiful tubes of toothpaste in an assortment of delicious flavours (such as jasmine mint and ginger mint).

I hope you enjoyed this quick tour through the advertisement history of one of most common, everyday items we all use. This post is the first in a new segment based on vintage ads, in which I’ll highlight a number of adverts for a specific product, company or service.

Wishing you each a marvelous Wednesday – and good dental health always! :)