The sounds and songs of my childhood weren’t always on CKLW. Sometimes it was what the grown-ups listened to. Cocktails. James Bond. The 4 o’clock Movie on Channel 7 (Detroit).
Side burns, wide lapels, the dry look, Herb Alpert.
Bouffant hair-dos, platinum blond. Mini skirts, fringe, go go boots. String bikinis. Long breezy unkempt hair, parted down the middle. Playboy centerfolds, green, red, and yellow hues, a hazy patina on the pages. Penthouse, much dirtier.
I had no idea Dusty Springfield was English because, you know, people named “Dusty” come out of the Old West and “Springfield” is also decidedly American.
Guys, you want to get lucky tonight? Put on your cotton flannel pajamas, dim the lights, fire up a smoke (Lucky Strike? Winston?), and spin this on the turntable.
Okay, so smoking is no longer sexy. Do you think these are made of flame retardant fabric?
twinklysparkles 
Okay so we’re the same person — I had the same childhood — we’re on the same page today — okay so this was written a couple of days ago but still — weird. Today I was thinking about how I dreamed my adulthood would be based on these types of things and I played some music by Les Baxter to create the mood. And I thought also of bouffants, cigarettes, smoking jackets, being on a boat with an older man, etc. etc. And dirty magazines, yes way dirtier. Dusty Springfield’s ‘You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me’ would certainly put me back there. I love how you create this impression, this mood with your reflection. Here’s the Les Baxter song I played today:
You nailed it. That sound is unmistakable. Not really something I’d listen to in my spare time and yet I love it when I hear it and realize I miss it.
I like that we grew up in the same era, but you know different things than I do.
Fabulous! twinkly
Now I’m thinking about that Sergio Mendes and Brasil 66 album we had — oh boy!
Dig those crochet tops! Wow.
[…] I was a kid this is what adulthood looked like to me. I’m prompted by Twinkly Sparkles’ post on what it was like to be a kid in the 1960s imagining what being a grown up was like. My mom […]