Housewives! Fed up of being a skivvy? Tough! Take Yeast-Vite instead, and wait a few years for Valium to be invented...

Well, it's interesting that advertisers are STILL using the 'man useless at housework/cooking' line, but what really makes this interesting is the 'Fuel Emergency Notice' and the claim that the gas industry made the best use of the nation's coal (issued, naturally, by the Gas Council). Of course, this all makes sense when you consider that coal was rationed from the outbreak of WW2 and that the ration wasn't actually lifted until a year after this advert, in 1958...

Good lord. I don't know quite what to say, apart from: how does getting married to a young surgeon in the Indian Army give you body hair? Surely this woman would already be used to it, if she's gone through puberty? I don't understand.

Later to be known as Mary Marryat, this agony aunt worked for Women's Weekly for a great many years (there's copies of Woman's Weekly from the 1980s on eBay which mention her), and, frankly, I don't care for her that much. I know I need to consider her responses in the context of the time, but her attitude to someone deciding for themselves how they get married is a bit rum, and asking a 27 year old woman to wait around for a dithering idiot of a man is bloody silly. It was the 1950s! She's almost on the scrapheap! No wonder she's worrying!

Wow. Now here's a sign of the times. The reason that I have these magazines is because of the old custom of dressmaking, actually, as a couple on my local Freecycle moved into a house which was previously occupied by an old woman who used to enjoy making clothes. She left a large collection of women's mags from the '60s, as they were known for their dressmaking patterns, and they were eagerly picked up by me on Freecycle. Thus, Gypsy Creams was born!

Yeah, you all know why this is here. I believe the modern version is called 'Adios'. And here's the old British TV ad, courtesy of TV Offal (clip 'may not be suitable for minors').

Well, that's me speechless. Has anyone else seen a perfume ad as pretentious as this one? What are all those men planning? No wonder she looks pensive...

Hello and welcome to Casual Racism Monthly. All I can say is: the past is a different country, and they do things differently there. I just had to share.

Ah, the Co-op, a enduring and endearing British institution. Two comments; I'm sure this logo was used by the Co-op up until the late 90s at least, and that this dessert looks bloody brilliant. I'm off to the store cupboard.

Goodness me. These kinds of products are still available, of course, but I've never seen them get full page spreads in magazines like this. Now, I'm not going to argue that menses is the most pleasant of substances, but I can honestly say that I've never been able to smell when another woman is on the blob. Basic personal hygiene can normally be relied upon to avoid becoming a public menace, because, although it's unmistakable up close, the smell doesn't usually wander out of the crotch area.

Aw. So many British children were taken into town to be dressed by Ladybird, Woolworths' range of childrens' clothing. Alas, no more: Woolworths was a high-profile victim of the recent recession, but the clothing (as well as the shop) survives online. I thought this charming advert was a nice tribute.

Well, I hope the Vaseline stays in the cupboard, because I was taught on my First Aid course that, despite what was thought previously, any sort of grease on a burn is a bad idea, as it keeps in heat, making the burn worse, and isn't sterile, so could be an infection risk. This Wikipedia article is a good summary of the number of uses Vaseline was thought to be suitable for, some of which have been debunked. Vaseline can, of course, be very useful: just not on burns!

Heh. This reminds me of the book of Microwave Cookery that my parents got with their Panasonic microwave in the early 90s, and I don't recall the pictures looking particularly inviting in that book, either. Fresh is the order of the day at the moment, of course, although it's wise to note that a lot of 'fresh' products may not actually be that fresh at all, and preservatives are added to lengthen shelf life. It may well be that you're better off with frozen food for some items. Read the labels, folks.

Well, no, it doesn't, but this advert is rather optimistic about the effect of a home perm, especially as it boasts about making your hair smell like lemons (which may please any wasps lurking around, but wouldn't cheer me up). Anyway, wasn't this woman's hair quite nice to begin with?

Hmm. Evidently not, as this isn't a word I've heard before, suggesting this was a ill-fated ad campaign. Serves the patronising tossers right, too!

Let's face it, most of us like a good gossip, and there's nothing like a magazine problem page to really reveal how a nation ticks. Woman's agony aunt was Evelyn Home (of whom nothing on the internet appears to have been written), although the famous Marje Proops also puts in a few appearances in Woman in 1967 (which isn't covered by any obituaries I can find).

Ooh, blimey. Those of us born from the mid-70s onwards won't have remembered that it was once normal for shampoo and the like to be in glass bottles. Just think about that for a moment. Ouch. I drop bottles in the shower almost every day!

Ah, corsetry. Ever since women struggled out of whalebones, the fashion industry has been yelling at us to get back in them, albeit in different forms, whether it be the Bridget Joneseque control pants, or frantically doing toning exercises, as if being a bit cuddly was some sort of crime. Yes, I AM overweight and oversensitive, thank you for asking. My mother used a pantee girdle for years; I can assure you it made very little difference to her figure, and imagine my pre-pubesent horror when she informed me that it would soon be my turn to struggle into the elastic. Obviously, I didn't follow in her footsteps (for reasons of fashion as well as principle), but looking at the large number of girdle ads in my collection, the elephant in the room looms larger and larger (if you'll pardon the pun); where does the displaced fat GO?