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Tuesday, November 6, 2007

Timeless Style

Last weekend we put an exhaust fan in the ceiling for my grandfather. While we were fitting the fan in between the joists, we found something under the insulation. What we found was this:



A JC Penney catalog from 1977. It's not often blog fodder just falls in my lap, but holy hell this was two solid inches of it, right there for the taking. I thumbed through it quickly and found my next dining room set, which is apparently made by adding upholstery to old barrels:




Also, I am totally getting this for my bathroom:



There's plenty more home furnishings where those came from, however I'm not going to bore you with that. Instead, I'm going to bore you with something else. The clothes.

The clothes are fantastic.

Here's how to get your ass kicked in elementary school:



Just look at that belt. It's like a boob-job for your pants. He probably needed help just to lift it into place. The belt loops have to be three inches long. And way to pull them up to your armpits, grandpa.

Here's how to get your ass kicked in high school:



This kid looks like he's pretending to be David Soul, who is pretending to be a cop who is pretending to be a pimp that everyone knows is really an undercover cop. Who is pretending to be 15.

Here's how to get your ass kicked on the golf course:



This 'all purpose jumpsuit' is, according to the description, equally appropriate for playing golf or simply relaxing around the house. Personally, I can't see wearing this unless you happen to be relaxing around your cell in D-block. Even then, the only reason you should put this thing on is because the warden made you, and as a one-piece, it's slightly more effective as a deterrent against ass-rapery.

Here's how to get your ass kicked pretty much anywhere:



If you look at that picture quickly, it looks like Mr. Bob 'No-pants' Saget has his hand in the other guy's pocket. In this case, he doesn't, although you can tell just by looking at them that it's happened - or if it hasn't happened it will. Oh yes. It will. As soon as he puts down his matching coffee cup.

Here's how to get your ass kicked at the beach:



He looks like he's reaching for a gun, but you know it's probably just a bottle of suntan lotion in a holster.

How to get your ass kicked in a meeting:



If you wear this suit and don't sell used cars for a living, I believe you can be fined and face serious repercussions, up to and including termination. Or imprisonment, in which case you'd be forced to wear that orange jumpsuit.

How to get your ass kicked every day up to and including St. Patrick's Day:



Dear God in Heaven, I don't believe that color exists in nature. There is NO excuse for wearing either of these ensembles unless you're working as a body guard for the Lucky Charms leprechaun.

In this next one, Your Search For VALUE Ends at Penneys.



As does your search for chest hair.

And this -- Seriously. No words.



Oh wait, it turns out that there are words after all. Those words are What. The. F*ck. I'm guessing the snap front gives you quick access to the chest hair. The little tie must be the pull tab.

Also, judging by the sheer amount of matching his/hers outfits, I'm guessing that in 1977 it was considered pretty stylish for couples to dress alike. These couples look happy, don't they?




I am especially fond of this one, which I have entitled 'Cowboy Chachi Loves You Best.'



And nothing showcases your everlasting love more than the commitment of matching bathing suits. That, and a blonde girl with a look on her face that says 'I love the way your junk fights against that fabric.'



Then, after the lovin', you can relax in your one-piece matching terry cloth jumpsuits:



I could go on, but I'm tired, and my eyes hurt from this trip back in time. I think it's the colors. That said, I will leave you with these tasteful little numbers:

20 comments:

Joy T. said...

Ok you're the last blog I'm visiting before heading to bed and not only am I first to comment...yeaaaa....but I am rolling on the floor at all these pictures. Seriously! So I'm trying to figure this out and since I was born in 63, I would have been 14 years old when this magazine came out. Although I'm from Canada and we don't have JC Penny but I bet the Sears catalogue had similar things in it. And at 14? I probably would have thought some of these clothes were pretty darn cool. Unlike now where I'm laughing my ass off at them and calling those people dorks. Excellent post Jeanne and a perfect one to end my night on!

Just Seeking said...

This is the funniest thing I have read in ages. I am laughing so outloud I will probably wake up my family! (yes, catching up on blogs at 243am, yikes!)
Seriously, I am CRYING!!

Thanks for visiting my blog. I will be back to visit you!

Mary Alice said...

Just Seek provided a link to your blog. This is priceless. Oh the memories. Good times! I think my cousin had that cowboy shirt.

Family Adventure said...

I just came through just seeking, and she was right - it is well worth the visit. I think you said it best when you said

No Words.

Oh wait - I have words after all, WHAT THE F*%& WERE WE THINKING BACK THEN??

Thanks for the laugh!

Heidi

Sandy said...

Oh my gosh, that is too funny! And the hair!!!!! Oh, wait, I think my hairdresser tried to give me the "wings" last time I was there! Thank you so much for sharing.

Jen M. said...

That is so magically delicious I can't even contain myself. It's also like looking at a photo album of my husband's childhood. The TOILETS IN HIS HOUSE HAD GREEN HAIR, TOO.

You have got to have some kind of contest or something and gice that baby away - it is too precious! ;)

lisa's chaos said...

I recently bought a lot of magazines and in the grouping there were some pattern books for some of those clothes. Mainly the matching shirts. So funny to look back. I would have been 10 in 77 and I remember wearing some of those weird things. :)

suburbancorrespondent said...

Oh, man, you mean it wasn't all just a bad dream? Blame it on the psychedelic drugs people were into in the late 60's/early 70's. What else can explain this?

This really brings back memories - I was a 1963 baby also.

Kellan said...

This was priceless and hysterical!!! But ... aren't all those male models super cute!!!??? What fun - see ya.

Nap Warden said...

OMG! Time warp...That is some scary looking, everything! Hi Mr Brady...

laurie said...

oh my god i am laughing SO hard!

i do not remember ever seeing anyone dressed quite that badly, though i have to confess that my husband had a powder blue suit with gigantic lapels when he was in high school.

thank god i didn't know him then.

and the lime green bathroom fur? wowser.

Frances said...

Four huge shiny gold blogging stars.
The pictures were priceless - the commentary had me rolling on the floor.
Thanks for dropping by my site.

painted maypole said...

very funny! :) what will people say about our clothes in 30 years?

Valarie said...

Ha! Funny! That magazine is older than I am! Hmmm, maybe I should put a magazine away so my children can look at it in 30 years and laugh at me. :)

WorksForMom said...

Holy hell this was hilarious! Can you IMAGINE? This had me GIGGLING out loud.

Sirdar said...

Wow....don't those outfits look smashing!! And to think I grew up in that era and don't recall having too much of that stuff..

bermudabluez said...

Yes, I confess....I was 19 and actually remember some of this stuff. Damn...do I feel old or what??

the dragonfly said...

Oh my. I was born in 1978...so probably my parents were wearing clothes like that when I was born. Actually, I know they were..I've seen pictures!!

I came over from the link on Just Seeking's site. So glad I did!! Thanks for the laugh. :)

jakelliesmom said...

Tears in my eyes, oh my gosh was that funny! (Found you from Just Seeking from Jen M.'s blog), and I'm so coming back.

The worst part, though, is I remember going through the Sears catalog at my grandparents house, and I know I picked the pre-teen versions of these outfits for myself.

Thanks for the laugh!

theotherbear said...

HAHAHAHAHA

That was superb.