If you must know, I am studying the 1965 issue of Good Housekeeping for a self-inflicted research project. Today, I read the make-up tutorials section on page 113 of this magazine that must weigh the same as my friend’s newborn baby.
How to become the always-busy beauty who stays pretty all day.
I just washed my face and brushed my teeth at 11:50 a.m., wearing sweats and my Fitbit. The 1960s housewife woke up at 6 a.m., in a dress with pearls and pumps to pour her husband’s coffee before he leaves for work. She must appear “alert and lively” to bounce around town, dropping clothes at the cleaners and planning the church pancake breakfast.
You’re probably too busy today in 2017 to read this 250-word post. Have we not mastered the art of juggling life? If we just properly planned our daylong makeup techniques, we could dance through our days merrily, from breakfast to the cleaners to the PTA meeting. The 1960s gave us Duncan Hines’ cake mixes to cheat on homemade, and freezers for frozen meal prep, and Fleischmann’s Yeast to “make your husband glad he’s yours.”
I must go. I have so much to do to perfect the always-busy beauty. First, I’ll buy an apron. Then, I’ll bake that cake from a box or that “fresh” loaf of bread, or both. Finally, I should start that hunt for a smiling husband, a man looking for coffee and the only wife on the block who can fake-bake that beautiful loaf.