Categories
1900-1949

Your Face Needs Exercise, 1937

I think there’s something in facial exercises. I had a sheet of such exercises printed off from an Indian newspaper some years ago and, during the stretches that I remembered to actually do them every night, I did notice a difference to my face, to my surprise.

That was before kids entered by life and now with less sleep and in my 40s, I’m starting to think I could do with starting up again. Although it’s a lot more of a challenge this time. I’m going to try these ones from 1937, and I’ll report back. As long as I remember.

The Western Gazette, 1937
The Western Gazette, 1937

YOUR FACE NEEDS EXERCISE
BY JOAN MAY

Most of us put in five or ten minutes doing our daily dozen every morning, but how many of us even think of exercising our faces? Yet facial muscles need exercise just like any other muscles, to keep them supple and in good working order.
The contours of the face depends largely on the muscles, and all the creams and lotions in the world will not fill out hollows or tighten sagging cheeks; you must strengthen the relaxed muscles behind them, under the skin.
One of the best exercises for filling out thin cheeks and getting rid of those ugly lines from nose to mouth is simply – blowing! Purse your lips, throw back your head, and pretend that you are blowing a feather over an imaginary line. Puff out your cheeks and blow hard, until you can feel all your cheek muscles pressing against the skin. Do this at odd moments during the day, and notice what a “lift” it gives to your face.
Our grandmothers were advised to murmur “prunes and prism” to acquire small and beautiful mouths. To-day we are told that whistling will make and keep our mouths well-shaped and flexible. Even if you cannot whistle, purse up your lips and then, whilst holding this position, pinch in the corners of the mouth with your fingers. This will prevent their drooping – a very common fault.
Exercise your eyes, too. Normally you move them very little. Try looking sideways, then look up, look down, roll them round and round. So simple; yet what extra life and vivacity it gives to them!
Your chin and throat come last but by no means least, for they are usually the first to show signs of age. Keep them young and firm by these movements. Drop the head forward, then with chin outthrust, lift the head, and let it fall slowly backward as far as it will go. Bring it gradually back to normal position, then turn the neck, looking first over the right shoulder, then over the left, so that the muscles are gently stretched. Each movement should always be smooth and rhythmic.

Categories
1900-1949 Adverts Food & Drink

Cadbury’s Dairy Milk, 1937

The 1930s and 40s with their stiff upper lips, blitz spirit and derring-do remind me a bit of the quote from Douglas Adams’ The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, doctored a bit by me:

“In those days spirits were brave, the stakes were high, men were real men, women were real women and small furry creatures from Alpha Centauri were real small furry creatures from Alpha Centauri. And Cadbury’s chocolate wasn’t buggered up by Kraft Foods.”

Cadbury’s Dairy Milk – eat it, just like some of the “wisest people you ever saw” do.

The Children's Newspaper, 17th April 1937
The Children’s Newspaper, 17th April 1937
Categories
1900-1949 Adverts Food & Drink

Eat More Fat, 1937

“Atora puddings solve the difficult problem of children who dislike fat.”

Not a sentence I can imagine would be used in today’s advertising. These adverts are from The Children’s Newspaper, and it is true that children do need fat – apart from other things, fat helps in the development of brain cells. Did you know that the brain can contain up to 60% fat? (More in some people’s cases….) Fat is of course one of those food groups that was celebrated, then demonised, and recently started to be rehabilitated as a useful part of your diet. My grandma could eat a mound of fat – she preferred the fat to the meat – and she was slim all her life and lived to a good old age too.

“Medical testimony proves that the children – and adults – with weakly and “chesty” tendencies, who most need nourishing fat, are the ones who don’t like it.”

Oh, I do like the idea of eating suet puddings for the good of your health. I’m sure the 1930s style diet is worth a try. I’m quite tempted to try something along the lines of this blog, The 1940s Experiment, where a woman lost weight by following Second World War rationing recipes. I could try the 1920s-30s version, the typical diet from just before rationing came in (well, it sounds more fun anyway – apart from the Mice in Honey). Nourishing Rowntree’s Chocolate Crisps all round!

The Children's Newspaper, 8th May 1937
The Children’s Newspaper, 8th May 1937
The Children's Newspaper, 8th May 1937
The Children’s Newspaper, 8th May 1937
Categories
1900-1949 Food & Drink War

Wear More Milk, 1937

This little article in The Children’s Newspaper from 1937 caught my eye. Wear more milk?

The Children's Newspaper, 3rd April, 1937
The Children’s Newspaper, 3rd April, 1937

In the 1930s, Italian chemist Antonio Ferretti worked out how to extract fibres from the casein protein in milk, which could then be used to make material. It was called Lanital (and Aralac in America). This was celebrated as a national success in fascist Italy, which was looking to promote self-sufficiency in fabrics and everything else, on account of sanctions being placed on the country by the League of Nations in response to Italy’s invasion of Ethiopia in 1935.

In the end, Lanital didn’t wash well, apparently smelling a bit like sour milk when damp, and bacteria could eat away at it, which is why it was soon replaced by the newer synthetic fibres.

Futurist poet Antonio Marinetti wrote “The Poem of the Milk Dress” about the invention of Lanital and how it was interwoven with the fascist system of Italy. In the extract below, “the man” is referring to Mussolini:

“The Man commands
Milk, divide yourself […]

And let this complicated milk be welcome power power power let’s exalt this
              MILK MADE OF REINFORCED STEEL
                     MILK OF WAR
                           MILITARIZED MILK”

And here’s how it was made(in Italian):

Categories
1900-1949

No She Didn’t, 1937

A rather unlikely-sounding claim that the apparent genius-baby Princess Margaret was humming recognisable tunes at the age of 11 months. My daughter is good at copying sounds (and is also a genius-baby, naturally) but this would have been a bit advanced for her.

Princess Margaret, of course, was born on the day that Freaks actress/actor Josephine Joseph was up in court for fraud.

It reminds me a bit of that ancient practice of portraying the ruling class as somehow superhuman and just rather other to the masses. But then again, I wasn’t there, maybe she did hum it – who knows?

The Mirror, 1937
The Mirror, 1937
Categories
1900-1949 Food & Drink

Velveeta Cheese Advert, 1937

Velveeta isn’t a product I associate with either the UK or the 1930s, so I was surprised to see an advert for it in The Yorkshire Post from 1937. I don’t think it was sold for long in the UK though, not post-war anyway. It’s not cheese, it’s “cheese food”.

“The phosphorus in Velveeta makes it an important brain-food”, it says.

The Yorkshire Post, 1937
The Yorkshire Post, 1937

I first came across Velveeta processed cheese while living in Kentucky during a so-called “exchange year” in the early 1990s – I was a vegetarian at the time and I ended up eating quite a lot of it. It does make an amazing easy cheese sauce in the microwave, even though I’m not entirely sure exactly what it is, apart from being described as “American cheese”. Apparently, the official description of it now is “Pasteurized Recipe Cheese Product”. Mmmm.

I didn’t know it was as old as all that though, I thought of it as one of the convenience foods that sprung up in the 1950s. It always reminded me of Willy Loman complaining about American cheese in Death of a Salesman – “How can they whip cheese?” – and it being an indication of the zeitgeist, moving away from the traditional ways of life after the end of the War.

As every foodstuff apparently was, it’s presented here as being not only nourishing and good for you, but also suitable for invalids – very well catered for, the invalid demographic was.

More on that soon – invalid champagne, anyone?

Categories
1900-1949 Adverts Food & Drink

Aero advert, 1937

It’s more of this kind of thing today. Oh, why don’t I just go and live in 1937 if I like it so much?

Anyway. I do like the 1930s approach to chocolate advertising. They need a good, solid, sensible reason to eat it, not just because it tastes nice. I suppose Mars Bars with their slogan “A Mars a day helps you work, rest and play” is the last remnant of this kind of campaign.

The KitKat started life as Rowntree’s Chocolate Crisp and was marketed in the 1930s as a nourishing meal substitute – here

The Aero bar is another piece of confectionary that has stood the test of time. Here it is in 1937, where it’s promoted not so much as a sweetie but a pioneer at the forefront of science. Yes, yes, it gives you energy, good for acrobats, blah, blah, but eating it is basically taking part in an experiment. With patent pending, they can reveal that “Science has given Aero a special texture that is different.” With a “unique quick digestive action”, “Aero stimulates the enzyme flow,” and dissolves fast so that “these particles get right into the bloodstream to give you the quick new energy you need.”

The Yorkshire Post, 1937
The Yorkshire Post, 1937

As with Rowntree’s Chocolate Crisp, I find these advertising pitches work shamefully well on me. Who wouldn’t want to stuff yourself with a chocolate bar in the name of science? Now, where’s that Aero….

Categories
1900-1949 Adverts Ephemera Women

Persil “photoshopping”, 1937-style

Oh, naughty Persil! Now I suppose showing just how brightly Persil washes your whites in a black and white advert is a bit of a tricky problem. But look what they’ve done – cut out the nurses apron and hat and replaced them with a bright white background and unrealistic drawn-on creases.

And that’s before we get onto the issue of whether a woman, having just given birth, should be worrying about the whiteness of her wash anyway

The Mirror, 1937
The Mirror, 1937
Categories
1900-1949 Adverts Ephemera Women

Woman’s Most Difficult Problem, 1937

“Even the most fastidious woman may cause embarrassment to others at certain times,” according to this 1937 advert for sanitary towels. Hooray for Dr Van de Velde and his “Vanderised Towels”, then. Wouldn’t want anyone to be embarrassed by us, would we?

Having said that, I am in favour of no chafing if that was previously a danger, pre-Vanderisation.

I’m presuming they’re using the word “prophylactic” as meaning “disease-preventing” here. Otherwise, it’s quite an impressive claim.

The Mirror, 1937
The Mirror, 1937
Categories
1900-1949 Adverts Ephemera

More of What the Doctor ordered, 1937

Wow. Well, my What the Doctor ordered post just, very quickly, became the most viewed post on my site ever. It’s all thanks to Stephen McGann retweeting it – he does play a smoking doctor on Call the Midwife, after all, and therefore the doctor-promoted cigarette advert was rather appropriate.

(This was extra brilliant because I’m such a big McGann fan in general.)

So, inspired by the last post, here’s a bit more smoking doctor stuff from the archives.

Of course, it took a while for the generally anti-smoking sentiment to catch on, especially with doctors. Here’s an article from 1922 where a doctor blames “cheap cigarettes” for a woman’s death, on account of the “large amount of paper used in their manufacture”, not the tobacco or anything. The doctor concluded “It was a great pity that women did not take to smoking pipes.”

The Western Gazette, 1922
The Western Gazette, 1922

But it wasn’t all pro-tobacco. “Is the tolerance of the habit shown by many doctors not owing in some measure to their own indulgence in the habit?” asked the Glasgow Herald in 1924.

The Motherwell Times, 1924
The Motherwell Times, 1924

And even in 1888, this “smokers are stupid” joke was printed:

The Cheltenham Chronicle, 1888
The Cheltenham Chronicle, 1888

And apropos of not much apart from the general cigarette atmos, here’s an advert for the smokers in adversity (advertsity?). It was 1941 and not only was the Blitz happening around you, you had to get by with less tobacco than usual. Here’s an advert being all keep calm and carry on about having to do with 20% less tobacco than before, and urging smokers to stick to their pre-war levels. So smoking must have increased considerably during the war. Understandably.

Portsmouth Evening News, 1941
Portsmouth Evening News, 1941

Anyway.

The volume of hits for the Kensitas cigarette advert inspired me to look a bit deeper into the advertising campaign that the brand ran in 1937. My original advert was from The Mirror, overseas edition, and was based on Kensitas’ statistic that 84% of London doctors who smoked preferred a mild cigarette. That is, as opposed to strong cigarettes, not to no cigarettes at all. It seems like a no brainer to be honest, but in 1937 this was obviously a bigger deal.

I had a nose around the British Newspaper Archive for some more of their adverts and found that there had been a quite extensive campaign. There’s a lot of images with stats for different places and there’s also quite an impressive number of stars of stage and screen lending their faces for the cause, not just Stanley Lupino as in my orignal ad.

I first found this one, in The Lancashire Daily Post. The singer and dancer Miss Binnie Hale is the face of this one, stating that 81% of Preston doctors (who smoked anyway) preferred mild cigarettes.

The Lancashire Daily Post, 1937
The Lancashire Daily Post, 1937

And next I saw this one, also with Binnie Hale, in The Yorkshire Daily Post. Here, um, 81% of Leeds doctors prefer a mild cigarette:

The Yorkshire Daily Post, 1937
The Yorkshire Daily Post, 1937

Now, I’m starting to smell 81% of a rat. Bit of a coincidence, innit?

But no, it turns out that it wasn’t 81% of doctors everywhere. It was, ooh, 81½% in Yorkshire as a whole, as George Robey says:

The Lancashire Daily Post, 1937
The Lancashire Daily Post, 1937

It was 88% in Liverpool, Miss Yvonne Arnaud tells us (Liverpool winning the most sensible doctors in the country competition, there. In a way):

Yorkshire Post and Leeds Intelligencer, 1937
Yorkshire Post and Leeds Intelligencer, 1937

77% of Angus doctors says Jeanne de Casalis:

Dundee Courier, 1937
Dundee Courier, 1937

I’m wondering if someone at Kensitas made a bit of a mix up with some of these ads now, the place names start to mismatch with the local newspapers.

I’m starting to get all a tizzy with the figures already – but now it gets more specific. Mere integers are not enough to express the data at this point.

It’s 87½% of Birmingham doctors says Winfred Shotter:

Lincolnshire Echo, 1937
Lincolnshire Echo, 1937

85¾% of Durham Doctors:

Sunderland Daily Echo and Shipping Gazette, 1937
Sunderland Daily Echo and Shipping Gazette, 1937

(I hope you’re not getting bored of all this)

83½% Edinburgh doctors says Joseph Hislop:

Lancashire Daily Post, 1937
Lancashire Daily Post, 1937
(But I’ve become transfixed in the face of all these meaningless stats)

86¼% of Manchester doctors says Harry Roy:

Yorkshire Evening Post, 1937
Yorkshire Evening Post, 1937

It’s 75 and a third% of Belfast doctors says Will Hay (ooh, I’ve heard of him) (Oh, and bad show, Belfast, you have the hardest smoking doctors):

The Portsmouth Evening News, 1937
The Portsmouth Evening News, 1937

84¾% of Lancashire doctors says the delightful June:

Northern Daily Mail, 1937
Northern Daily Mail, 1937

Gearing up for the overall figures now. Getting exciting.

For the whole of England, it’s 84% announces Dame Sybil Thorndike (there’s some class):

The Lancashire Daily Post, 1937
The Lancashire Daily Post, 1937

For Scotland – 80¾%. according to John Loder:

Northern Daily Mail, 1937
Northern Daily Mail, 1937

And….drum roll…..for the entirety of Britain….it’s 83½%, as announced next to Gordon Harker:

Sunderland Echo and Shipping Gazette, 1937
Sunderland Echo and Shipping Gazette, 1937

Well, there wasn’t much point to all that. I think we have conclusively proved nothing. Except that quite a lot of doctors smoked in 1937.

Smoking.