Perfect Self-Esteem: 1930s Edition

It’s good to go off for the day feeling that you are fine just as you are. But that won’t help the Leg Guys in Chicago* or the Nose People of Newark make any money, now, will it? And it’s 1930, the Depression is upon us – so you’d better go out right now and get these things. Then everyone will be happier. Guaranteed!

First we have some remarkably uncomfortable-sounding aluminum Leg Forms to conceal your bow legs or knock knees – for men only, of course. Don’t wear them when you’re trying to sneak into work late though, because people are going to hear you clanking from miles away.

And if you aren’t feeling enough self-esteem – wait! There’s more! You can also fix that nose of yours. You know you want to. The mysterious Anita Institute (Anita has her own building too) has a gorgeous Anita Nose Adjuster just for you to wear when you’re sleeping. It’s quick, safe and painless – unless you wear it during the day, in which case the pain will be felt by everyone who sees you, because it hurts when you laugh for a long time, doesn’t it? That might mean they need some kind of stomach medicine. You could probably sell them something to offset the cost of the Nose Adjuster and Leg Forms.

There’s another Nose Adjuster over here on my other blog, by the way.

[From Popular Mechanics, April 1930.]

*Three cheers for Chicago!! Yes, where else? Click on the tag “Retro Chicago” to see why it is the Capital of Kitsch and Retro!

The Perfect Breather

Stop Mouth Breathing and Snoring!

Also stop him from arguing. From complaining about your lousy cooking. Or about the laundry. It really works! And that Inhaling Balm helps to keep him happy and relaxed while you enjoy an evening to just read a magazine, serve whatever you like for dinner, and maybe even talk about – why, whatever you like! Just go ahead and say what’s on your mind, what’s he going to do?

You can remind him that it will help his “flabby facial muscles, double chin, and protruding and unshapely lips.” And you can show him the “valuable breathing exercises” that come with the Perfect Breather.

Has helped thousands.

Yessirreebob, it has. Now you can both have a breather!

From Modern Mechanix.

The File and the Pile

Oh, Professor Dickson, how did you know? That is exactly what my brain looks like – a pile of stuff, all – well, piled up.

But I was never any good with the card files in the library – way back before computers, that was, children – I found them dismal and confusing. So turning my head into one would not work out for me.

I know just how the man with the Pile in his head feels, though. That is just the expression I have when I am trying to think of something to write.

Speaking of piles, I have several on my desk. But I know exactly what is in every one of them! I have my own organizational system. A Pile  – Not a File, that’s what we can call it.

Summoned to give facts and figures – does your mind become a blank?

Why yes, sometimes. But that may be because it makes me a trifle nervous when I am summoned.

I will try to remember to send away for your book, though, Professor. I really will. But I may draw a blank on that one. Gosh, I knew there was something I meant to do!

[Long-winded ad is from Popular Science, February 1926; the little one is from the same magazine, January 1920. And you'll be happy to note that the Dickson School of Memory was located in, where else, Chicago.]

Getting Set For Life

Store Owner: Can I help you, sir? Don’t get many Foreign Legion officers round these parts, you know. Maybe I can interest you in some sun lotion…

Salesman: Well, actually I have an Amazing New Business and I am sure you’d like to see what I’ve got here. Take a gander at these Counter Card Goods!

Store Owner: What in tarnation are Counter Card Goods supposed to be?

Salesman: Well…I don’t rightly know. But I was told that this is part of my Big-Pay Route.

Store Owner: I see. What else you got there?

Salesman: I have 200 products! How about some aspirin?

Store Owner: We sell that already, sir. This is a general store.

Salesman: OK, what about razor blades? Or even better: Chocolated Laxatives! No one can resist a Chocolated Laxative. I know I can’t.

Store Owner: I’m sorry, we have razor blades. And laxatives, both chocolated and plain. We are ready for anything, sir!

Salesman: But – but – we’re supposed to make up to 140% profit on this, both of us! This is an amazing new business – that’s what the World’s Products folks down in Spencer, Indiana, say in their big catalog…[Leaves store, furrowing brow deeply] Can’t think what’s went wrong there. Hmmm. Must be the hat.

Dancing With the Leftovers

It’s just not her night, is it? Sitting on a plate with a parsley corsage, trying to make small talk to a chicken bone and some cold mashed potatoes. She’s a leftover!

If only she’d sent for the Pickwick Company’s guides on how to teach yourself to dance in only 15 minutes a day. Tip Top Tap Dancing, for example. That’d be perfect for a party – just tippy tap right off the plate and into the middle of all the couples clutching each other. Instant social success!

Just follow the little shoe outlines in the booklet. Piece of cake, right? Hold the booklet in one hand and look down at your feet and…huh. Maybe that’s not so easy.

Tell the green peas to save you a spot on the plate, just in case.

From Tomorrow’s Heroes Comic Ads.

Voice In A Bottle

This is Madame Week on my blogs, I guess: there sits Madame Morrow, the wily Victorian fortune teller, over at the Dime Museum. And today we have, as a guest star over here, the lovely and equally wily Madame Beatrice, straight out of 1960.

Madame Beatrice has something fabulous for you today. Today and every day! Are you shy, left out, pushed to one side by some high-fashion sweet-talking lollapalooza of a floozy? Is she bewitching your guy?

Madame Beatrice understands. She’s been there, obviously: check out the brave smile, the Margaret Dumont iron matron vibe, the perky pearls. She’s duked it out, so to speak, with a bimbo or two in her day. And won.

Because Madame has a secret weapon. And that’s what she wants to sell to you. It is perfume that will actually speak for you. It is your “Secret Voice” and can say all the things you are too chicken to say. Can and will!

Hey, will you look at that loser flirting with all the girls? Is that him? That’s our boyfriend? Hmmm, I don’t know about this. Are you sure we want to get this one back? Because I’m not so sure.

Let’s use my Secret Voice and round up somebody new. Psst! You there, the cute guy in the corner. Come over here and talk to us. Now. I said, NOW. C’mon, move it, buster!

Please note that you will need “complete directions” on how to use Secret Voice perfume. Madame Beatrice thinks we’re not only shy and depressed, but really, really stupid. Don’t you feel much better now?

[Many thanks to Modern Mechanix for this one.]

Phenomenal Results!

What’s phenomenal is that this is what my eyes are going to look like after I’ve been Sleep-Learning all night for a week. Lovely. That looks just like a large black spider trying to catch a nap in a pasta shell.

Knowledge before beauty though, I guess. So no more dreams about champagne-filled publication parties, and applause, and calorie-free dark chocolate. No, I will have to work hard. And my money will have to work hard too, because “$2 rushes fact-filled instruction book” – are they sure two small paper bills can lift a big package like that?

I guess they know a lot, though. After all, they are the Research Association. They research – I don’t know, what do they research? Everything! And they are up day and night doing it. They ought to get a little sleep though. Especially that poor spider. He really looks exhausted.

From Popular Mechanics, October 1956.

Conversational Brazilian

This must be some record! Because they speak Portuguese in Brazil….not Brazilian. There’s no such language as Brazilian.

So I really would like to hear how Cortina is planning to teach us how to speak it. And will they teach me other imaginary languages, if I send them enough money?

From Popular Science, March 1951.

Make Way For Weaklings

Oh, I think I know what your job is, Mr. Atlas.

It is standing at a table in your bathing suit, making dolls that look just like you.

This is an “actual photo” of Charles Atlas, grinning at his craft table, you see. The skinny dolls are on the right, and the little Charles Atlases are over on the left.

The All-Over Muscle and Strength and Energy come out of little pots. I don’t know whether he dips them in the pots, or paints the stuff on them with brushes.

It takes about 15 minutes per doll, apparently. I do not want to let him make ME a new man though – I don’t want some new little man running around the house! Our cats would probably terrorize him – I don’t care how much Strength goo he has been shellacked with.

Maybe the little weakling dolls have to pay their money first. But it doesn’t look like they have all that much extra cash. Where are their wallets? Hard to say. And their money is – well, tiny. Tinier than Monopoly money, even. I don’t think Charles Atlas will be smiling quite so much when he tries to collect his fees from them, do you?

Advertisement from Popular Mechanics, June 1946.

Imitation Of Lifebuoy

Another day, another relationship saved by a bar of soap! And this time, the stakes are higher than a pair of dishpan hands.

Also, the whole family is getting involved. Sticking their nose in, so to speak. The doctor seems to be the uncle of the woman tattling on Jim and Myra. But he also seems to know Jim and Myra too. Really, he shouldn’t be gossiping about people like this. Tell Louella Parsons here to stop!

But no. He loves it. And he is seeing patients in his tuxedo for some reason. All they need are a couple of cocktails. Maybe the nurse could shake up some martinis in the tongue-depressor jar for them. Just as long as she remembers to take the tongue depressors out first.

Anyway, Myra’s busybody friend/sister/mother is telling Dr. Tux that Myra’s given Jim the boot “because he’s a little careless about ‘BO.’”

Dr. Tux agrees that this shows deep moral failings on Jim’s part and who knows what else he’s careless with. You have to make an effort in a marriage, for heaven’s sake! And not stinking is pretty high on the list.

Jim just hadn’t thought of it like that. So who knows what other foibles he is concealing? Hmmm….

Then, Uncle Tux says well, he likes Jim (from a distance) so he’ll have a wee word with him. Probably on the telephone.

Jim is the sadsack in the hat, middle row right. Boy, gosh and golly, he had NO idea! “Wow, that was plain talk from the doctor!” I’ll bet it was, too.

Cut to the shower scene. Bar of soap, lots of lather, enormous happiness. Although it does take a whole year for the now-happy couple to assure the doctor that everything is copacetic.

Why did it take a year? Well, I noticed something weird in the last picture. Take a look at the doctor’s face, as he sits downwind of Jim’s bent arm!

And Myra – goodness, she doesn’t look all that thrilled either. What is going on? I sense trouble. Jim is oblivious (as always). The doctor and Myra are giving each other a look. Something’s gone wrong.

Very, very wrong.

Another fabulous ad (circa 1935) from Ad Access.