#vintage rebellion

[thewordsman]

Oh, those were the days

Oh, those were the days. I’m not talking about the polyester-soaked seventies or even the neon-splattered eighties. I mean the real good old days, back when “fun” was just a mix of harmless crime and just the right dose of moral outrage. When getting your thrills didn’t involve three layers of corporate licensing, a background check, or a membership at some wannabe exclusive wellness club. Everything illegal, immoral, or generally frowned upon by your church-going aunt was precisely what made life fun.

Who remembers back when a cheap beer, drag racing on the streets, or just loitering around was considered the height of rebellion? Now, it costs more for a bottle of bourbon than it used to for a whole night on the town with change leftover. Back then, street life was affordable, and real, and didn’t come with a QR code or a social media campaign. The thrill wasn’t some calculated risk; it was an honest-to-God roll of the dice.

Now, look around. What used to be taboo, counterculture, or even outright sinful is the flavor of the day, sanitized and stamped “acceptable.” Smoking weed? That’s no longer a “gateway drug,” it’s a tax-deductible habit if you live in the right zip code. Gone are the days of back-alley dime bags and knowing which friend’s cousin could hook you up. Now it’s legal, potent, and conveniently costs about $200 a day for the curated, subscription-based variety. Forget about the old-school street dope—today’s recreational narcotics come with organic certification and a side of retail therapy. It’s marketed as a lifestyle, provided you can afford the astronomical price tag.

And let’s talk booze. Remember when you could score a six-pack for pocket change? Now, it's craft this and small-batch that, and don't forget the $20 artisanal shot. A daily habit—if you’re lowbrow enough to even keep one—is likely going to run you around $120 just to get your daily fix or drug of choice, a pack of cigs, and the same run-down motel that used to go for pennies back in the day. Funny how what was illegal back then is still a crime, only now it’s extortion.

For you nostalgia-bots who remember a time before credit scores determined whether you could enjoy a weekend without needing a loan—remember this: the true thrill of vice was in its simplicity, its dirt-cheap accessibility, its raw, unfiltered joy. These days, even the smallest rebellion comes with a thousand-dollar price tag. You want a taste of the forbidden fruit? Sorry, friend, that fruit is organic, shipped from Bali, and reserved for VIPs with monthly memberships.

It’s not enough to enjoy something anymore; you have to own it, flex it, brand it. Ever since the Ken and Barbie “Karen Crew” types—working-class weekend weed enthusiasts and middle-aged mindfulness influencers—decided to monetize every little bit of vice, there’s not a cheap thrill left in town. Legalized and digitized, what used to be gritty is now “gentrified grit.” Gone are the days when a dirty street corner or a dim dive bar could promise anonymity and mystery. Those same spaces are now “authentic experiences” with a hefty price tag, posted about and Instagrammed by ex-suit-wearing, 70s-wannabe divorcees and soccer moms with personalized yoga mats.

Don’t get me wrong; the irony isn’t lost on me. What was once a $5 motel night, a 35¢ beer, and a 55¢ pack of smokes—enough to live like a king on the wrong side of the law—is now a luxury. You want the thrill? Pay for it.

[cuddyclothes]

Post WWII in England, Teddy Girls, sometimes called Judies, voiced their particular brand of personal rebellion by adopting a singularly androgynous look based loosely on Edwardian menswear. They had a smart, well crafted appearance that was quite at odds with the notion of rebellion. They were in fact, more intimidating because they staunchly refused to adhere to societal norms.

Along with their counterparts, the Teddy Boys, they appeared first in the working class areas of East and West London that had been hardest hit during the War. They rejected the austerity of the post war economy and essentially gave the finger to the ruling class by adopting and changing its styles.

Film director Ken Russell took these images of Teddy Girls in the Notting Hill District of London in the mid 50s. - Attire's Mind

[veganterrorist]

PRO NOSTRA TERRA

[vintage-tigre]

[detroitlib]

Chrysler cray

View of a woman posing for a Dodge automobile advertisement. "The Dodge rebellion wants you" is painted on wall in background. Label on sleeve: "Chrysler Corporation, Dodge advertising, 1967."

View of a woman, holding a paintbrush, posing with a 1967 Dodge Coronet 500 coupe. "Enlist" is painted on wall in background. Label on sleeve: "Chrysler Corporation, Dodge, 1967."

View of a woman, holding a bomb, posing with a 1966 Dodge Coronet 500 coupe. Label on sleeve: "Chrysler Corporation, Dodge Coronet 500, 1966."

Mickey McGuire and Jim Northmore Boulevard Photographic Collection

National Automotive History Collection, Detroit Public Library

[kajilychnis]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ 巴 マミ 𑁍ࠬܓ

[allthedesiredusernamesaretaken]

... sound of rebellion ...

Chris Isaak's Gibson Trini Lopez Silver Sparkle

[postcard-from-the-past]

"The rebellion", painting by S.V. Ivanov

Russian vintage postcard

[thebeautifulbook]

LORNA DOONE: A ROMANCE OF EXMOOR by R.D. Blackmore (Philadelphia: Coates, c.1882).

source

[heather-elissaaa]

It can feel as if there is no such thing as individuality through personal expression and clothing anymore. Everything has so many labels forced upon it.

It’s not simply my favourite cardigan anymore - it’s a coquette, Lana Del Ray, clean girl aesthetic, y2k, off-white, fine knit, ballerinacore cardigan. It creates the impression, that if I was to wear my cardigan, then I would become a living embodiment of all of these things.

It’s not simply my comfiest skirt. It’s now my fairy, mid-rise, Italian-summer-core, lacy, Call-me-by-your-name-peachfuckingaesthetic, mid rise, crepe skirt.

I don’t care whether I’m “fox-pretty” or “bunny-pretty,” and I couldn’t care less if I never knew what my essence is.

It feels like, as a society, and particularly as a generation, as life has become more demanding and more expensive, we are left with diminishing spare time and little disposable income to pursue the things we love or simply might be interested in - the only form of creativity we have been ‘gifted’ is in return for academic or professional validation. There is no room left for self expression.

We see the massive rise in fast fashion consumption, the masses flocking to thrift shops and warehouses to sell their finds on Depop at 3x the price, and we see the influx of videos online about finding out “what kind of animal pretty are you” or “what does your face shape say about you” etc. Of course these are all for entertainment, but it just shows how embedded this mindset is in society right now when if I want to find a new jumper, it’s easier to search via “dark academia, oversized, cluttercore vintage grandpa sweater” than it is to just search “brown baggy jumper.”

We can’t do the things that we enjoy - the things that make us more interesting and well-rounded as people, the things that were once seen as so human. So we turn to self expression in others ways. We crawl into these boxes, already occupied by so many in the same position, in a desperate attempt to feel some kind of freedom of self expression. It’s very ironic. And very sad

[doubledaybooks]

More sexist ads from airlines in the 1960s and 70s...

These vintage ads show how airlines marketed their stewardesses looks as a key selling point. Many women protested these ads and were inspired to fight for unionization among flight attendants--a union that is sitll strong today!

Learn more about the revolution that took place over 30,000 feet in the air in THE GREAT STEWARDESS REBELLION by Nell McShane Wulfhart.

[digitalartuadesign]

Welcome to Fight Club - digital poster print

You can buy digital bookmarks in my Etsy shop here:

Immerse yourself in the chaotic world of “Fight Club” with our tough digital poster. This poster embodies the rebellious spirit of the cult classic movie. The poster is perfect for Fight Club fans or anyone who appreciates edgy, thought-provoking artwork. Add a touch of rebellion to your space with this vibrant poster and let Tyler Durden's words echo in your mind: “Welcome to Fight Club. First rule of Fight Club: you don't talk about Fight Club.”

[newgolddream]

The Lizzie Series 6 of 6 😉

[roscoe-conkling]

Sword exercises on board the USS Newark, deployed in the Far East in 1900 during the Boxer Rebellion.

[vintage-tigre]

[nebeltal]