Magazine pics from the early 1950's

Recently my husband brought home an old scrap book of recipes that his late mother had put together. I haven't looked at all of the recipes and will probably post some later on, but some of the magazine pictures she had cut out and pasted in to the scrapbook were interesting. Here are some for you to enjoy along with some dialog I've added. Note: the pictures are wrinkled because they were pasted and it's been a long time. You can click on any one of them to enlarge it for better viewing.

Christmas decor in the boudoir year round! Red gumdrop upholstered stools. Matching......things.....

Someone handed me this guitar and well, I'm trying to hold my arm like I think I'm supposed to hold it and no one is telling me it's wrong and they went ahead and took the picture and everyone is smiling - on the outside....

My mother-in-law, baking from scratch. My generation is so much more modern and I'll prove it by making dinner from a can. I'm so over with basting. I've much more important things to do like starch my aprons and iron the ruffles so they are nice and stiff and fluffy looking.

So I said, "Ralph, it's time you tried tea. This tea. Well, Ralph told me tea was for sissy boys and he didn't think it would go over well with the guys on poker night. I told him that he and his poker boys could go jump in the river, for all I care. It just made me so mad. That's why I wanted you to come over, Evelyn. You are obviously so cultured with your fine clothing
in palest shade of yellow with matching flattish hat and brown band. I knew you would appreciate this tea. Don't you love my trellis?

Honey, it's great, but why did you decide to cover the kitchen wall with this really wild taffeta curtain material stuff and why did we have to dress in formal attire so I could meet the new refrigerator? I just hope there is something good to eat in there. I'm going to go slip into something more comfortable like my soft woolen trousers with cuffs and my burgundy quilted smoking jacket with cravat. Why don't you just whip me up some nice meaty dish that would appeal to my manly appetite?

Yes, at one point, there was a burning cigarette in my hand. I am a fallen, smoking, trashy women of the streets or at least I was until someone glued a gardenia like flower over the stinking weed that was held ever so delicately between my nicotine stained fingers. Whatever. If you look close enough, you can see a curl of smoke coming up behind the flower. The smoking gardenia.

We are the flower women of music (???) by the punch bowl of pink punch and the pendulum(???) on folding chairs and we are having a swell time.

After my bath this morning in perfumed bath salts from Paris, I just lay here all day in my cool organza dress reading my favorite fashion magazine trying not to think about anything that might give me wrinkles or sweat stains and waiting until my true love comes home from the office to sweep me in his arms and well, I can't say anymore.......

I vant to suck your blud

Darling. Darling. My man. My man. Here in the morning as we prepare to eat our 3 minute boiled eggs in their cute holders on the multi-colored brick deck with pink geraniums at the window and our wrought iron furniture including a flower pot attached to the side filled with pretty petunias, I long for you to hold me in your skinny arms against your concave chest.