Let’s Look at 1963: Glamour, Beauty, Housework, Chevrolets

I get all excited about Christmas. I start making plans around August. Oh, the snowball cocktails; the consensual glitterfication. I’ve been contemplating layering. How much merino is too much merino? Do patterns clash if there’s nobody there to see them?

While I wait for everyone else to get interested, I went out today and found a couple of 1960s magazines, from the ever-splendid charity shops of Glasgow’s west end. I’m planning to idle away autumn making Christmas cards in a vintage style, with magazine cuttings of fancy ladies and natty headlines. Some may say I have too much time on my hands. Some may also say I have glue and silver ink on my hands, and now they’re stuck together.

Anyway, when I had a flick through the magazines, they did not disappoint. Here is a quick whirl through the aspirations and anxieties of the early 1960s. I’ve categorised them, as you might expect, to include Horrifying Foodstuffs and Private Trauma, as well as Glamour.

Glamour Like They Used to Do It

As these magazines were aimed at married women, there’s a cul-de-sac of fashions on show: fifties debutante, prim twinsets and queenly tulle skirts. As if Mary Quant and mini skirts weren’t happening at all. Still, they are irresistibly chic.

Horrifying Foodstuffs

I say foodstuffs, because I like that connotation of inedible materials. Somehow, to go with these snow-white gloves and perfectly set hairstyles, the ladies of the 1960s were encouraged to dish up gruesome spectacles of gelatine, meat salads and wilting cakes. Industrial processed food seems to have reached its fashion pinnacle circa 1963. ‘It looks like food. But is it?’ FEAST YOUR EYES:

Cultural Pressures and Condescending Advertising

To go with all the wholesome, nourishing canned meat and Crisco oil (1951 slogan: ‘it’s digestible!’ – really), there are ads for scaffolding-style underwear to hold it all in, and extremely dubious sugar substitutes.

Adverts of the 1960s were also keen to point out the innate pleasure and reward that housework presents for a woman.

Private Trauma

And, right on que, following that erotic portrayal of housework, a tiny glimpse in to the acute misery seething inside the perfect wife’s cheerful exterior. I present Exhibit A: managing an alcoholic husband, and Exhibit B: the neighbours are judging you, closely following by Exhibit C: don’t let anyone know that you’re having murder-spree daydreams.

Moments of Surprising Cool

Despite the glimpses of secret desolation and barely suppressed hysteria, these magazines also include a few moments of surprising, sultry escapism. You can feel the rest of the 1960s looming ahead like a cool breeze.

As well as all this, there were a few pages of Christmas ideas, with a general emphasis on not making too much of a fuss because the children will get too excited. As much as I love the demented charm of old magazines, I’m glad it’s not a requirement to take any of it too seriously. The only thing about winter that’s worrying me is how many big jumpers I can wear at once. No bisks required.