All posts tagged: 1940s

Advertising at the end of the War (WWII, that is)

I  found a wonderful magazine page a few month’s back, full of advertisements. None of the products advertised would be particularly interesting to me, except that the magazine is from late 1945, and the advertisements make specific reference to the (hopeful) end of wartime shortages.  It’s a fascinating glimpse at rationing, and the foreseeable end to it: Unfortunately I just found two pages of the magazine, and there was no identification of what magazine it was, or a precise date, though I’m certain it’s either English (most likely) or Australian (less likely), and that it dates from late 1945 or early 1946. First, a rather sad version of Mary Had a Little Lamb: The Loving Stitch: A History of Spinning & Knitting in New Zealand, gives an excellent account of wartime wool (and knitting needle) shortages, and how women coped with them (hint, it includes #8 wire!) Next, a rather standard beauty ad, though my modern mind can’t help wondering precisely what it is men who call her Pat know about her… Another classic ad …

Rate the Dress: 1940s stripes

Last week I showed a Regency dress that was radical in its simplicity, and use of luxurious fabric.  What you really noticed though, was how radically low the neckline was! This week’s Rate the Dress features a more covered-up plunging neckline.  It aims for sexy and sophisticated, without a lot of skin. Striped frocks have a surprisingly rocky record on Rate the Dress, frequently coming under fire for the placement or mis-alignment of stripes.  How will this one do? Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10. Cheers, Leimomi

A serendipitous post-war wedding dress

A few months back I volunteered to go to my least favourite part of the greater Wellington area (Porirua city, just up the coast from us) in order to buy something for a friend that could only be gotten at a store there. While it has some good points (a really wonderful museum for starters), as far as driving and traffic are concerned, Porirua is the oozing carbuncle on the otherwise pert and rosy bottom of the North Island that is the Wellington area.  Getting where I needed to go involves 25 minutes of motorway (you know you are spoiled when 25 minutes of motorway is a grueling drive), and then no less than six roundabouts in a row, and a dozen speed bumps.  Take the wrong exit from one of those roundabout and you either end up in a vast, enormous maze of shopping mall parking lot, impossible to find your way out of, or on a street where your only option is to take the most impossible right turn into traffic ever. Now, I …