A 1976 Christmas - From Neiman Marcus

(click on image to enlarge)

Last year, the 1972 NM Christmas catalog was featured here to a somewhat lukewarm reception. This year, the 1986 Apple catalog I posted was seen by half of the United States and all of Australia. I don't get it but I never do. Maybe it was the Belinda Carlise video? Anyway, I blew the dust off my corporate American Express card (they'll never know) and secured this 1976 cheese extravaganza off eBay.

Christmas of '76, I was waiting for the Special Forces 'Q' course to start at Ft Bragg. I didn't know Neiman Marcus from Shinola and the same could be said about Special Forces and what it took to make the grade. Of the 88 in my class -- three got their green beenies and they were all noncoms. My class was the last to allow lower ranking enlisted (E-1 to E-4) after which you had to be an E-5 or above due to the brutal wash out rate.

It's not what you dream -- It's what you fail at that gives character. And this catalog is full of character. That's why I love it so. However, I'm not adverse to an equally cheesy music video of the era saving my ass. Here's to the 85 who failed at USAIMA and to Phil. I remember this playing in the barracks like it was...a very long time ago.

Can I help you?

The Living Room

I was 14, when a friend I was with got caught stealing a double Chicago album in the Willow Oaks Shopping Center just before Christmas. He was older and his father was a famous Air Force Ace as well as Thunderbird pilot. My friend was detained by the store and police were called.

That afternoon the Ace visited my home with his son. I was called downstairs by my father and we all sat in our living room with Danish furniture and a white Flokati rug. My fathers paintings were everywhere. Some were, I like to think, tasteful nudes. I don't think the Ace painted.

He told my father his son was arrested for shoplifting and that I was I with him. My father, who didn't have much use for me at this age, sat on the edge of the sofa and looked my way. "Is that true?" he asked. "Yes." I said, and said nothing more. There was silence and I looked at my friend who was staring at the Flokati rug.

The Ace suggested I was the lookout and that it was probably my idea to steal the Chicago album. My father turned to me and I told him I didn't even like Chicago, that my friend had been stealing anything that wasn't nailed down for as long as I knew him, and that he told me about stuff he stole before he ever met me.

My father, a major, turned to the Ace, a colonel, and said, "There you go." The Ace looked at his son and asked if it was true. The son nodded. The Ace suddenly looked small and dark in our bright living room. He left with his son taking the dark with him. Nothing else was said by my father.

40 years later I still obsess over shoplifting paranoia. If I don't buy something a feeling of dread comes over me. I'll be stopped. Questioned. Accused. By a famous Ace. And then I remember my father... and how bright it was in that living room.

1972

The Trad in '72


My Inspiration: Soul Train...

and my cousin's Esquire Magazine Oct 1970

I got a Nehru jacket the same year, man. Smoking cigarettes with Friday Shinnaberry in the junior high parking lot -- Mary Willersdorf comes over and asks for a Hampton Police Cadet Corps t shirt. The one with the short sleeves. Mary has the biggest breasts of any girl in 9th grade, but her face is a little smushed in. You know? Like one of those little dogs, her nose almost meets her chin. Not that it matters.

At home I find an extra t shirt. Size small. I laugh to myself. Mary calls and I take the kitchen wall phone receiver into the bathroom and close the door. She asks if I'll bring the t shirt to her house now since her parents are gone and won't be back for a couple hours. She'll try it on for me. I tell her it's a small. She tells me that's okay. It should fit. I tell her I'm on my way. I walk outta the bathroom. I'm dizzy. I'm scared. I'm so happy. I'm putting the receiver back and there's my mother.

"Yeah, well... I'm just heading over to Scott's house. He wanted a police cadet t shirt..." "You're not going anywhere. I heard you and you are not going to that girl's house." "You were...eaves dropping ?!" I turn it around and am pretty proud of myself and my vocabulary. After all, there's a lot at stake here. I add, "Can't I have any privacy in my own house?" That's good. I actually sound like a grown up. She snaps back, "No, you can't have any privacy and this is my house."

It's slipping away. What was there in the palm of my hand is turning into another fantasy for the palm. I can see Mary Willersdorf in that small t shirt running towards me while screaming her parents are gone. A lawn sprinkler comes on and 'Police Cadet' lettering folds into wet cleavage and dark areola while an early Fall chill marks the exclamation points. I wish my parents were gone, but there's always at least one of 'em hanging around. Minding my business.

1970's Chicks: Penthouse

August 1972

In my book, the most interesting women's attire to come out of the '70s.

Update: The three Penthouse covers were in violation of the Blogger Content Policy for adult content. Rather than mark this blog as "adult" I have removed the images.