Seventeen Magazine Archives - A Lovely Inconsequence

A Seventeen Spring

A Lovely Inconsequence — Tue, 30 Apr 2019 02:10:00 +0000

As much as I love my vintage Back-to-School Seventeen’s, when April comes around, I like to pull out my handful of spring numbers. Seventeen makes even dull rainy April days look like fun. In fact Yardley Slicker lipsticks were often illustrated with “rainy day” ads mirroring just how “wet” Slickers swiped on the lips could be, as in my March 1973 issue. But in nearly every spring issue there is a pretty model with a yellow rain slicker or a shiny grass-green raincoat with a fetching matching rain hat. Thanks to Seventeen, girls knew just how to dress for April showers (which sometimes turn into May or June showers). And so many perfume ads in my Seventeen’s portray couples splashing about in happy drizzle under umbrellas. I never knew how romantic an umbrella could be until I noticed a charming ad for Chanel 5 perfume with a laughing couple skipping over puddles together, he gallantly holding a polka-dot umbrella over her pretty head. June 1970. But what about sunshine, especially for these rain-soaked days of spring 2019? There’s plenty of bright and sunny in my spring Seventeen’s. In June 1972’s “Little Things Mean A Lot” I spy a pair of bright yellow leather clogs just like the ones I wore with a purple broadcloth dress with cherry red rick rack encircling each entrancing puffed sleeve. And how could I overlook the handsome young sun-kissed Nick Nolte seated on a log of driftwood with a lovely girl who just colored her long tresses with Clairol’s Summer Blond? June ’72 again… Now May 1972 Yardley (again!) teaches me to “Make the most of what you have” with Rainbow Eyes Brush-On Sigh Shadows in yellow, green and blue replete with instructions for spring-pretty eyes. Nothing says spring is here like rainbow colors captured after afternoon showers. Further along, “C for Color” shows how to accessorize with primary-color headscarves and flower power wash-off tattoos of pop-art flowers in discreet places. So refreshing. Still this issue, Bobbie Brooks gives me clothes with jaunty nautical themes that could be worn today. I am struck by the optimism of stripes in red, gold, and navy, all in swirling upbeat patterns. Who could be sad wearing these stripes in spring? In April 1971’s issue, I can’t get past the delightful ad from Pandora with primary-color tee shirts and matching sou’wester canvas hats and stretch knee socks. Each shirt appliqued with a luscious fruit or vegetable, stating “a carrot a day keeps the doldrums away!”. Indeed. It takes a happy face to pull off these looks… And Maidenform “Color(s) Me Pretty” in clingy little intimates to wear under each and every outfit. In 1971, we had a choice of banana yellow sets, hot-pink, or Pucci-like printed psychedelia. In May 1972, Lemon Up Shampoo Concentrate shined our hair with the juice of “one whole lemon” in each cartoon-bottle and I can just about smell it still. The little scratch pad on the page retains a faint citrus scent that slowly wafts its way to my nostalgic nose. On the next page, the forest-green pools in an Herbal Essence bottle explodes with fanciful blooms spreading across the centerfold. Both shampoos had a place on my shower shelf in 1972 and this issue reminds me of the fragrant ways I cared for my hair in spring. ~~~~~ The point being, spring is a marvelous time to revisit an era when our senses were alive with seasonal newness and excitement. I get immersed in the kaleidoscopic colors that make me want to toss my blacks and greys to the back of the closet, I re-engage with the fruity and earthy smells of hair care and cosmetics, test the fresh new hues of makeup and lingerie, make thoughtful and fun rain gear choices, and slick on pretty new lip glosses. All in rainy spring, 2019.

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Seventeen Summer

A Lovely Inconsequence — Wed, 04 May 2016 03:17:00 +0000

No matter what age I was, all my summers were Seventeen Summers. They were filled with the glories depicted in what I consider Seventeen Magazine’s golden years (1960’s – 1970’s). Neither cell phones nor iTunes were part of my Seventeen Summers. We had small transistor radios to listen to the Top 40 but with the sound kept to a respectable neighborly level. There was no such thing as a designer handbag with a dangling fur-ball charm or must-have designer sneakers. If we wore sneakers, they were a simple pair of Ked’s fetched out of a bin at a sneaker barn near Boston for less than five dollars. Handbags were small and ladylike and gifted to us by grandmothers to be used and loved for years. The playing field was level because no one in my hometown could afford designer clothing and that’s if we even knew what designer clothing was. If we didn’t sew our own summer clothes and many of us did, we bought them in the same small clothing shops on Main Street or at Filene’s, Jordan Marsh or Sears, just like everybody else. Those stores are where we would find all the pretty clothes we saw in Seventeen. The simply daisy-printed shift, the cute little short set, or the nautical skirt – all accessible straight from the page. There were no $7000 dresses in Seventeen Magazine. And yet, somehow we all looked adorable. Maybe it was the inexpensive cosmetics, like Yardley’s Pot-o-Gloss or the grass-green bottles of Herbal Essence shampoo, all as close as a stroll to the local Rexall. We didn’t need to wander around a big box store to get our beauty stuff. If Rexall didn’t have, we didn’t need it. Maybe it was because we followed Seventeen’s monthly beauty column that told us we could make ourselves lovely in the comfort of our very own teenaged bedrooms that we decorated ourselves. There were no nail salons for mani/pedi’s on each and every corner. Or waxing and threading spas. We plucked. Using slanted steel Tweezerman’s – the same kind Grandmother used – while peering into the True-To-Light magnifying mirrors we got for Christmas. Our Saturdays were not devoted to facials, tanning, and massages. Seventeen days were meant for meaningful pursuits. Such as reading a big fat book lying on a blanket in the backyard. Or seeing who could find the best rock for our parents to set the picnic table with to keep the paper plates and napkins from blowing down the street on the 4th of July. Sometimes we were told to corral the little kids at the barbeque and play games with them so the adults could talk. It was expected that we were participating members of a different kind of gang – The Family. Maybe we babysat neighborhood children for 50 cents an hour. Some of us taught crafts at the Recreation Department’s day camp where we would instruct elementary children in lanyard making or gum wrapper chains. Some of us were lifeguards at the town’s wading pools or we manned the concession stand at the beach. Others supervised at Vacation Bible School or volunteered at the hospital as Candy Stripers. Everyone walked everywhere or rode bikes. Mother’s gardening time was never disturbed for just a ride because it was perfectly safe and healthy to walk a couple of miles a day if we had to get somewhere. No one had a car of their own but almost everyone had a friend to walk and chat with once they met up at the corner. Arrangements for meet-ups were organized by using the one family telephone that hung on the kitchen wall with an extended chord. That is, if somebody else wasn’t yapping on it first. If we were older, our Seventeen Summer may have included tennis court dances and dates to the local hot-dog stand at the edge of town. We went to the drive-in in groups or we cozied up at beach bonfires and concerts. If we had saved money from our varied jobs, there may have been a late summer bus ride with a chum to the city for back-to-school togs and school supplies. Whatever we bought, I guarantee it was culled from Seventeen. Despite all this activity, there was still time to noodle through Wuthering Heights or to get an early start on required summer reading lists. Long hours of lollygagging prepared us for the upcoming rigors of high school and we better be ready for it. We kept diaries, sent postcards, played cards, …vegetated…talked. And we attracted boys with lively conversation and sandwiches like Boy Trap #51. No twerking involved. There wasn’t much drama in a Seventeen Summer. Life was simple and we knew our place. Seventeen Magazine just assumed we wanted to volunteer, help out, expand our minds all the while having fun without the narcissism that plagues so many young people today. We wanted to look good but we didn’t obsess about it. We used our natural beauty and enhanced it with a few well-chosen affordable cosmetics. And then we forgot about it. Which made room for rewarding connections, stewardship, laughter… …and more than a few dreams.

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Fall Issue

A Lovely Inconsequence — Thu, 02 Aug 2012 02:04:00 +0000

Vogue has yet to give us a glimpse of the cover of its September issue but we do know that Lady Gaga will grace it. This is the much anticipated thick as a brick issue that has hundreds of pages of fall advertising. I love it but I do wish Vogue had models on the cover again and I really wish that the celebrities they select would at least be put in seasonally appropriate clothes and not the pale slinky gowns they wear on the covers now. In September and October I want to see burnished reds, nut browns, burnt oranges, cashmeres, tweeds, and wools. And what about red tartans? I know where the gorgeous plaids and autumnal textured knits are, however. You can find them on my vintage Seventeen magazines of yore. How I anticipated the huge August Seventeen issue that arrived in my mailbox the first week of the month. My sister and I would take it to the beach and spend hours upon hours of prime sun tanning time pouring over the Bobbie Brooks ads for wide leg window pane plaid pants with cuffs and simple Shetland sweaters in primary colors. The surf couldn’t pull us away from the lovely Berkshire hosiery ads, Bonnie Doon knee socks, and Bass shoes. The pictures were always fetching and romantic, with a boy-next-door model to set off the clothes and imply that an after school tailgating picnic was happening. We especially loved the Ladybug ads with capacious illustrations of menswear inspired clothes; plaid pantsuits with ruffled blouses, argyle sweaters, chunky heeled shoes, newsboy caps and Breton hats, all matching and coordinated. We dreamed of school starting and what we would wear and bring along on the first day. We made lists which, including lingerie and makeup, loose leaf notebooks, colored pens, “baby” barrettes and it all began with the opening of that big August Issue. The girl on the cover enticed us to enter her world, with her happy smile in her happy clothes and it made leaving behind our summer loves and friends almost painless. Seventeen made us feel it was alright that time was passing – because there was plenty of it and summer, if not endless, would at least return again and again. But not until after a shining new school year filled with the latest flicks, clothes, and the Boy Trap Sandwich #51. Seventeen told us that Herbal Essence Shampoo would give us “the most beautiful shampoo experience on earth” and our hair would smell like the Garden of Eden. We were told that Wrangler jeans were the only jeans to wear to school and that “3 out of 3 girls preferred Yardley’s Watercolor Eye Shadows” in the new applicator compact. We bought every color and shared them between us, along with a bottle of Chanel #5 which was selling for just $5.00 at the local Rexall. Seventeen also told us Danskins were not just for dancing and so we put the new bodysuits on our list too. And maxi coats and miniskirts and leather tooled handbags for each of us. It wasn’t just the ads that we loved so much – the editorial staff at Seventeen knew just how to talk to us. There were articles about careers, the Peace Corp, boyfriends, and the generation gap. The magazine’s optimism made us feel that anything we imagined was possible and the future was our oyster. So now, when my September Vogue comes in the mail, I may sniff at bit at the skimpy frock the celebrity du jour is wearing on the cover. But I know when my sister and I crack open that massive tome on our beach blanket Labor Day weekend, we’ll be plotting our next moves.

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