All these kids are in their fifties now. This shot, from 1957 (click to enlargE) , shows the popular costumes of the day – mostly homemade. The kid in the pirate mask is wearing a costume that says “Howdy Doody’s Indian Princess.” Well, it was mix-and-match day, I guess.
Speaking of costumes: it’s time for the annual bewailing of the slutty little costumes parents buy for their children. “Are we prudes?” asks Newsweek. I assume the answer is no, because Newsweek is not likely to tell its audience that they are prudes, and that’s okay. Prudes are pucker-lipped killjoys who still tape a piece of cardboard to the bottom of the TV set in case that Elvis person comes on again and moves his hips.
Of course it’s okay to worry about this sort of nonsense. From the Newsweek article:
Witches are "wayward" and grammar-school pirates are "wenches." A girl isn't an Army cadet, she's a "Major Flirt," and who knew female firefighters wore fishnet stockings? Even Little Bo Peep comes with a corset, short skirt and lacy petticoat.
I kvetched about this a few years ago in my print incarnation, but for some odd reason one lone column did not stop the marketing juggernaut. I’ll have to look into that. The reasons for the costumes remain the same, I’m sure: the marketers don’t care, the men with daughters who are involved in selling the items place their obligations as fathers in a small box and hide it under a pile of money, the women involved either have no kids or are darn glad their kids aren’t going to wear these, and the people who buy them are overgrown kids themselves who think that there’s one culture, one set of standards, one worldview that fits all, from zygotes to duffers: the view of a single person in their 20s who can’t look forwards or backwards, only side to side to see who’s looking at them.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to rent a crop duster to apply pox to all their houses.
Oh, right: forgot to ask. What's your costume?


what was my costume?
I was Levitra. It scared all the men in my office.