A Retro Teen Treasury

Nothing like a glut of Jones posts to brighten your day. (Side note: Did you know that if you try to say "slew" and "glut" at the same time, you come out with "slut," which doesn't communicate the right message at all?)

I just finished a book I purloined from my sister-in-law's bookshelf when we were up in Nova Scotia. It's a collection of teen magazine stories. Since the copyright date is 1960, the stories serve up lots of retro culture -- which, in a lot of cases, is more interesting that the story itself.

The names, for starters. Hal, Betty, Dick, Fran, Ed. With all due apology to the older generation, I kept thinking, "Shouldn't you be more concerned with your house mortgage and retirement than who is going to the Senior Prom?" Of course, our names -- Christy, Melissa, Jennifer, Jason, Brian, Brandon -- are going to sound just as stale to Addie's generation. I guess it will serve me right, but the fact remains that it's not easy to get involved in the teen romance troubles of Nancy and Larry.

The prices, for seconds. Henrietta, a spoiled rich girl, is trying to wheedle a fancy new dress out of her mother. "It's only about twelve dollars." Her mother replied frostily, "It's fourteen ninety-eight." And the twenty-first-century reader is screaming, "Fourteen ninety-eight for a new dress! Go get it NOW, for heaven's sake!" Later, Henrietta mentions casually to her good-looking boyfriend that they'll have to walk because Mother's car is in the shop; her voice left no doubt that they were a "two-car family." Wow, two cars. They probably had a T.V., too.

In a soda shop -- in 1960s teen land, there's always a soda shop to gather at -- a girl orders "just a Coke" because all she has is four cents. A sympathetic friend tosses in another penny for her. I mentioned this to my friend Nina, who remarked that she could get out her loose change and buy a whole pack of Cokes at that price. Speaking of Cokes, that's all these people order. "Just a Coke." "Coke with lemon." "Cherry Coke." "Pineapple Coke." (I actually don't remember if there was a pineapple Coke, but I wouldn't be surprised.

This is a world, obviously idealized, where a popular girl goes out with a different guy every week, although of course never to do anything more than kiss, and I guess that's only if they're "steady." Everyone has two parents, usually an annoying kid brother or sister, and lives close enough to school to walk.

But despite the vast difference in their world and mine, the stories are the same. All teenage girls think they're hopelessly plain, and always hope that they can catch the eye of the "dreamboat." (Even if you're a courtship girl... admiration is still nice, right?) We always wished our lives turned out like the stories do: that just by being ourselves, the guys realize what gems we are, and in the last two lines asks haltingly for a date next Saturday.

It didn't happen to me until I was twenty-two, and he didn't exactly stumble over his words. Which is remarkable, because he wasn't exactly asking for a date next Saturday. But when I read these stories, I get caught up in my teenage-hood again despite myself. I find myself cheering on the plain girl at the end (even if her name is Nancy). And also wish I could buy that fancy dress for under fifteen dollars.

-- SJ