Shampoo in the Shower

Let's face it. As much as I enjoy my nightly baths, there are times of the week and times of the month when an invigorating morning shower hits the spot. On Saturday and Sunday mornings - when I sweat hard during a 65-minute walk at the park - I need a shower to feel fresh and dry for the rest of the day. And when Aunt Flo pays a call, I couldn't do without a shower before heading out in the morning to face the world. The rest of the time, I'm perfectly cool with a nightly bath. I've come to prefer 'em. I love that squeaky clean feeling when I crawl under the covers at night --- and there's something about all that hot water that puts my head in just the right space for dreamland.

Folks in the '40s were just coming themselves to appreciate the virtues of a great shower, and showers were becoming popular enough additions to postwar American bathrooms that Good Housekeeping dedicated an article to washing your hair in the shower in its March 1947 issue. I'll bet they've got some advice that might be helpful to me:

Why not wash your hair in the shower? Once you get the hang of it, you will never go back to shampooing in a bowl. Try it this way. Before you strip, have everything you need at hand - cream shampoo or a cup into which you have measured enough liquid shampoo for two sudsings, a small brush, a towel placed where you can reach it with your eyes shut. Wet your hair thoroughly; then keep away from the spray when rubbing suds into the hair. To rinse, face the spray or turn your back, as you like. Either way, shut your eyes, and as the water begins to run clear, turn so that a strong spray can be concentrated on every part of your head. Your hair will be more thoroughly rinsed with less trouble than ever before; you'll step out clean from top to toe; and you won't have to mop the bathroom floor.

Good Housekeeping seems sold on showers! At least when it comes to washing hair. Isn't it funny how something which seems so natural to we shower-takers today had to be broken down step by step like this. Even the process of rinsing the hair. Well, I suppose washing my hair in the bathroom sink would seem just as unnatural to me. Here are some additional tips included in the article. Thank goodness I don't have to worry about dandruff!

• Whether you shampoo in a bowl or in a shower, always brush your hair thoroughly before you start, in order to loosen any clinging dandruff.

• Be sure to suds every part of the scalp and hair. Uneven cleansing is often the cause of drab locks.

• Use a hand brush or small hairbrush to rub suds around the hairline, behind the ears, and on any spot where dandruff is likely to be troublesome.

• Rinse until the water runs clear. Without perfect rinsing, it is impossible to have glossy, springy hair. Use a hand spray if you don't shampoo in a shower.

• In hard water, use a soapless shampoo or a soap shampoo specially made to rinse out in hard water. Or follow soap rinsing with a lemon or color rinse, to remove curd.

Can anyone guess who's famous gams those are in the photo at the top of this post?

Soap Opera

What on earth did people do when there were shortages of soap during the war?

If there's one thing that's become absolutely clear to me with these nightly baths, it's that I'm going thru a lot more soap than I was in the shower. One bar lasts me about ten baths before it breaks into pieces and has to be recycled to the soap dish beside my sink. Now imagine if I had a family of six (considered average in the '40s). My household would probably be going thru a bar of soap every other day. Unless I had a passel of little boys, that is! I know there are tricks to making a bar stretch. Like turning the little bits and pieces into a jellied soap. But even a few tricks like that won't keep your family squeaky clean. The only thing I can figure is that folks just got used to being a little less clean than they'd like to be...

Another thing I've noticed about my baths is the bathtub gets grimier and in need of a cleaning much more quickly than it used to. It no longer surprises me that the authors of America's Housekeeping Book (1945) recommended that the tub be thoroughly cleaned each and every day. Here in a single-person household, mine could probably use a good scrubbing twice a week.

Though the vintage articles on bathing I quoted from last week were split on whether a woman should soak in the hot water before - or after - doing her washing and exfoliating, I've fallen firmly into the before camp. The water is at its hottest and most likely to take the knots out of your shoulders. And it's not all cloudy with soap scum and, well, probably dead skin cells. If I waited to lie back and relax until after I got myself all cleaned up, I'd be soaking in my own grime! Definitely, definitely a before kinda girl.

All told, my nightly baths take me about 40 minutes. That's counting from the time I begin drawing the water until I'm drying off after my brief post-bath shower (for shaving and for washing my hair). It's more time consuming than a single shower in the morning, but I love the feeling of being super clean when I climb under the covers. Even better, it's a ritual that's actually getting me to bed earlier at night. It used to be I could easily stay up until 10:30 or 11:00 puttering about, surfing the net. These days, I'm into the tub by 8:30 or 9:00 and ready to turn out the lights and go to sleep by 9:30 or 10:00. I'm all mellowed out, I guess, by the time I get out of the tub. Don't feel like watching TV or even reading. I just want to call it a day. And you can't beat a little extra beauty sleep!

One of my vintage beauty missions this week is to be very mindful of giving myself a vigorous dry with the towel after my bath. It's also made me more mindful of my towels! So I'm going to go thru them in the next few days --- thinning out the linen closet, so to speak. If it's threadbare in spots - if it's not something I'd put out for a guest - then it's time to hit the rag bag. (The ratty towels will make great cleaning rags once they're cut up.) If I spy any loose threads, I'll trim 'em off with my sewing scissors. This will clear up some room for a few new towels in vintage colors.

Week Thirty-seven: The Mission

As those of you who read my blog last Sunday learned, I've now lost enough weight that my blood pressure has begun to fall naturally. This is great news! For the last two years, my blood pressure has been so high that I had to take both a medication and a diuretic to treat the condition. When I saw my doctor a few weeks ago, she told me that I didn't need to take the diuretic any longer and - if I continue losing weight - I should be able to slowly reduce the medication dosage over time. I held off as long as I could, because I knew that I would gain some water weight when I stopped taking the diuretic. As my body adjusted to carrying around a normal amount of water in the tissues, I'd see that reflected on the scale.

Sure enough, I have. Sunday was my lost dose of the diuretic. Since that time, I've gained 4 lbs. --- presumably in water weight. I've gone from a fantastic 174 to a dreary 178. I'm trying not to panic. This is a good thing. It needed to happen. I'm thrilled to see my blood pressure responding so nicely to my weight loss. But, boy, are those numbers hard to swallow. All my instincts are screaming at me, "Just stop eating entirely!" "Work out five hours a day!" "Stop drinking water!" And I'm trying desperately to talk myself down and stick with the hard work I've been doing all the while. It's working. I know it's working. I've just got to keep slogging away. My body is loving the added water weight. It's better for my skin, better for my hair, better for my organs. My kidneys alone have got to be singing "Hallelujah!" that they're no longer pulling overtime.

So here I am. 4 lbs. heavier than last Saturday, but with a decidedly healthier anatomy. Maybe the distraction of a new vintage beauty mission is just what I need...

Fitness
It's time to add some strength training to my fitness routine. I've been giving so much attention to my legs that my arms could really use some work. Rather than use the dumb bells and barbells that might have been found in a '40s reducing salon, I'm going to start with a very modern pair of 1-lb. wrist weights. I found a set made by Reebok last night and strapped 'em on before my walk this morning. They're just heavy enough to make my arms work a little harder. I'm also planning to use them while I do my limbering and stretching exercises in the mornings and evenings.



Reducing
1940s nutritionists were acutely aware that women following a reducing plan might not be getting all the minerals and nutrients needed for optimum health, so they frequently recommended some sort of "vitamin concentrate" or "multiple-vitamin preparation" to supplement the diet. This was an era of steadfast faith in science, so the idea of vitamins was hot, hot, hot. People figured if they could formulate precisely what the body needed to function then it was simply a matter of taking a scientific approach to things in order to supply those needs. I've always believed I could do that just as easily by eating a varied diet (and my bloodwork has usually agreed), but I'm not perfect. I've still got plenty of work to do in building a better diet --- so in the meantime I'm going to begin taking a multivitamin. It took some time to pick out a vegetarian-friendly formula, but I purchased one a few days ago. It needs to be taken three times a day with meals.

Grooming
Here's the next step in the 1946 grooming routine. After taking my evening bath (or morning shower on the weekends), I'm to put that bath towel to work:

Rub yourself dry, so that you tingle all over and chest and back turn a healthy pink.

The Fine Art of Bathing

When I stepped into the bathtub last week for my first nightly bath, I found myself a little at ends. What to do with myself? For most of my life, a bathtub has strictly been about relaxation. Soaking in hot water on a cold winter's night, filling the tub with bubbles, setting the stage with candles and soft music. Now, I suddenly have to make the bathtub a functional place. I've got work to do in there! Washing, exfoliating --- where to begin?

The next day, I found myself reaching into the past for some vintage advice on bathing. Here are two descriptions of the ideal bath from 1940s beauty experts. They're strikingly similar.

...The next clue to relaxation is a tepid bath with a dash of your favorite bath oil, salts, or bubbling bath added. Swab your face with cold cream and into the tub with you. Rest your head back, close your eyes, apply eye pads of cotton dipped in alcohol and witch hazel, and rest for at least 10 minutes - before you even think of scrubbing…

Now remove the eyepads, take your bath-brush and work up a grand lather with pure, mild soap. Let the water out of the tub and refill again with clean, cool water for your refreshing rinse.

“Be Lovely If He Comes On Furlough" by Antoinette Donnelly
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, October 31, 1944

A bath should be a nerve tonic and a beautifying treatment as well as a matter of cleanliness. A morning bath is to invigorate and awaken, while a bedtime bath is to induce sleep…

BEDTIME BATH - Hot, of course, and add bath salts - pine essence will help draw out that achy feeling. (2) Pat Three-Purpose Cream into your face to let it do its good work while the steam opens the pores. (3) Into the water. Lie back, with eyes closed. (4) Wash leisurely - avoid hurried movements. Have a lazy soak afterwards, with eyes closed and cotton-wool soaked in witch hazel resting on them. (5) Dry with gentle massage movements. (6) Cleanse face, rinse with cold water, then re-apply cream if you wish it to remain on overnight.

“Make the Most of Your Bath!” by Barbara Lynn
The Coaticook Observer And Stanstead, June 14, 1940

Isn't it interesting how they both mention treating the face with cold cream during the bath? Both writers also recommend spending a little time just soaking with cotton pads treated with witch hazel on the eyes. (And what's the witch hazel thing about anyway?) The idea of applying cold cream at the beginning of the bath and rinsing it off afterward is actually right in keeping, too, with the brief description of bathing in the 1946 grooming routine I've been adopting:

Coat yourself thoroughly with a susdy lather, and don't spare the elbow grease. Rinse well, doing face separately with water from the faucet.

So it's cold cream twice a day now for me... once in the a.m. (which is helpful in feeling wide awake - without a shower) and once in the p.m. during my bath. I am cutting myself a little bit of slack at this point when it comes to shampooing and conditioning my hair and shaving my legs and underarms. After I've finished washing up, I drain the tub and take a brief cool-ish shower in order to give myself a little time to do the kinds of things not attended to on a daily basis in the '40s routine. I may very well get to a place someday when I'm happily washing my hair once a week, but that's certainly not going to happen overnight!

And I'm not sure whether I'll do the nightly baths on Friday and Saturday nights. With those super sweaty morning walks on Saturdays and Sundays, it's really tough not to be able to jump in the shower when I get home. Could I do both? Sure, but that seems a little wasteful on the water/soap/shampoo/conditioner front.

One thing I am loving is the sensation of being squeaky clean when I crawl into bed. (I'm also grateful to have lost enough weight to fit a bit more comfortably in my bathtub!) And you know how you can kind of get into a rut when it comes to the things you hit in the shower --- well, I've probably given my legs and feet a better scrubbing in the last few days than they've had in a long time! My skin feels softer and better exfoliated than it usually does.

Just a few more chores and it'll be time to draw this evening's bath. Sweet dreams!

Week Thirty-six: The Mission

Eeesh! How did it already get to be Wednesday? I'm sorry for the delay in new posts. Kitten was suffering from a virus and I've been pulling some Auntie overtime. But I'm back in my own little nest this evening and looking forward to some quality time with my iron. So how about a new vintage beauty mission? It's been a few weeks and I'm itching to add something new to my routine...

Fitness
I'm going to add a few more "limbering and stretching exercises" to my pre-bed fitness routine. The first is from a July 1940 edition of the St. Petersburg [Florida] Times and is especially designed for reducing fatty tissue in the hip area:

10. If you are bothered by this special beauty sorrow stand erect, steady yourself by holding to the back of a chair, swing the leg in wide circles. Lift the foot as high as you can. You will be aware of a strong muscle pull from knees to hips…

Two more exercises are from a charming article in a February 1940 edition of The Evening Independent. The author, a syndicated woman's page columnist, suggests that women living in a cold climate go in for skiing or skating to attain the new "stretched look." Tennis and swimming were suggested for women living in a warm climate. If money is tight or time is short, not to fear! Here are some exercises designed to mimic these sports. Anybody up for a game of imaginary tennis?

11. Simply hold a pie pan or other round, shallow pan in your right hand high above your head and look toward the ceiling as if you were watching for a high ball to come across an imaginary net. As the imaginary ball comes closer, jump a foot off the floor and hit it with the pan, driving it back across the imaginary net to an imaginary opponent. Drop arm to side, count to four slowly, then raise arm, jump and strike at the ball again. Repeat 10 times.

Reverse, holding pan in left hand and make believe that you are a left-handed tennis player. Incidentally, since jumping up and down is a simple exercise which reduces the thighs and hips, an imaginary tennis game a day may serve a double purpose.

12. The breast stroke exercise is also recommended. Lie across a single bed so that arms and legs are not supported by the bed. Keeping head up with neck straight, stretch arms forward with palms facing each other. Now fling arms wide apart, turning palms in the opposite direction. Do this slowly and deliberately. Repeat 20 times.

Reducing
In an effort to rev up the protein content in my dinners - and eliminate those late night temptations! - I'm going to continue limiting the portion size of the prepared, pre-packaged foods and add a serving of a bean dish of one sort or another. My dinner plate (and lunch on the weekends) will now look something like this: 1/3 my once-typical serving of prepared foods + 1 serving of vegetables + 1 serving of beans. And since it's summer, I'm all about cold bean dishes. There's a Moroccan lentil salad I used to be nuts about and haven't made in forever. A restaurant here in the city makes a chickpea/tomato/parsley salad that I've been dying to replicate. I think I've found a recipe online that should be close. I'm going to give it a try tonight after my ironing is finished. The flavors should be perfectly meshed by suppertime tomorrow night. I ought to be able to whip up a big dish of one of these salads once a week and having a serving from it every day!

Grooming
Well, this reforming frump has finished the 1946 morning grooming routine and lived to tell the tale... so this week I'm tackling the evening grooming routine:

Out of your clothes and into the tub -

1. Coat yourself thoroughly with a susdy lather, and don't spare the elbow grease. Rinse well, doing face separately with water from the faucet.

It's a good thing I've been cleaning my bathroom on a weekly basis --- my tub is ready for a good, hot bath. Every night, no less! Can I survive the shift from Shower Land?

Beauty and the Bath

Have you ever noticed that food becomes much more interesting the minute you've barred yourself from snacking?

From the minute the clock struck 8:00 last night, I could think of nothing but the snacks I'd like to be eating. (Even though there are probably many nights when I'm not snacking at that hour!) And with a kitchen full of new groceries, there was plenty to tempt the palate. I ended up turning in early just to banish those awful cravings. Well, wouldn't you know, I managed to survive the night. For years, I've indulged every whim when it comes to eating, so to put even the slightest of boundaries on food feels harsh and twisting --- but I'm sure that feeling won't last forever.

I survived my walks as well. 35 minutes - that's three laps 'round the track at the park - on both Saturday and Sunday. I'm glad I broke out the baseball cap, because it was already a sunny 89 degrees by the time I got to the park this morning. I may give some thought to walking on the weekend before I eat my breakfast and do my morning chores. Maybe even before I shower for the day...

This evening's 1945 dinner menu:

Browned Potatoes
Asparagus Salad
Enriched Bread
Fresh Fruit Cup, Three

My first decision as I prepared to begin washing my face in the mornings? Whether to do it in the shower or in the sink. This would have been a moot point for most women in the 1940s as showers were just beginning to gain in popularity. The grooming routine does recommend that the face be washed in the evening after taking a bath. With that in mind - and in order to give my face the attention it deserves - I decided to wash my face in the sink after my morning shower. Besides, the skin's already been steamed. The pores are open. It should be an ideal time for cleansing. Next, I had to decide on a soap. I've been using a bar of Ivory soap scented with lavender in the shower. But my face has always been sensitive to fragranced things, so it was off to the drugstore to hunt up something mild and fragrance free. What a disappointment not to see almost any of the brands I'd been admiring in vintage magazines! No Lux, no Woodbury's, no Palmolive (at least not in the face soap aisle!) --- I ended up taking home some unscented Ivory.

The soap and water does make my face feel clean, but it also feels a little taut. I can't tell yet whether that's the soap itself or the toning effect of the cold water splashed on at the end. Judging from the articles in magazines and newspapers of the period, women in the '40s were also concerned then about the drying effect of soap. Beauty experts seem to have universally advised the daily use of cold cream to re-moisten the skin, but soap was still deemed the best cleanser available: "Nothing can cleanse the skin so satisfactorily as soap and water, leaving the face fresh and glowing." A warm water rinse was essential, though, as cold water wasn't thought to thoroughly remove soap residue. Check out this darling article I found in the women's column of the April 18, 1943 edition of the St. Petersburg Times:

Beauty and the Bath
by Betty Clarke

Dear Housewives:

There's no excuse girls for looking fagged out and weary when papa comes home from work! It's just as much your duty to give his eyes something to feast on as it is to have his dinner on the table.

Even though time seems to be on your rationed list now that you're cook, cleaning woman, laundress, and gardener yourself, you still must sandwich in a few minutes for nothing but beauty...

[The author goes on to extol all the merits of a late afternoon bath.]

While you're running the tub, you can do so much. First be sure to tuck your curls high on your head or they will get wet and stringy. Then take care of your complexion by lathering your face with a deep pore-cleansing soap delicately scented with lavender. The next step is skin lubrication - smooth on a night cream generously and let it soak in as you soak in the tub...

And now back to your face. Remove every speck of cream that hasn't been absorbed and dash on a refreshing skin lotion. Then, your make-up.

Do you remember last winter when I realized that I really ought to start wearing a bathrobe and slippers around my apartment in the morning? That streaking about in my nightclothes probably wasn't very vintage-minded? That's been a hard habit to break. Until yesterday. As I stepped out of the shower, dried myself off, ran a brush through my hair --- I found myself reaching for a bathrobe. I didn't want to stand there over the sink washing my hair and trying to keep a towel wrapped around me at the same time. I guess when you spend even a few extra minutes tending to yourself in the morning, that robe or housecoat really comes in handy.

A Wardrobe Question

I'm up to my ears in gingerbread this evening, but I wanted to pop in and share some of the things I've been pondering lately as I stir my Malt-O-Meal and tidy up my living room. For starters, the schedule in my 1945 housekeeping manual doesn't tell me when the housewife could shower (or bathe) and dress herself. Did she head down to the kitchen fully washed and dressed and ready to be seen by early morning callers, or was she wearing a robe with her hair still in curlers? If we were to judge by advertisements from the era, I'd say they were fully dressed at the breakfast table. In real life, though, was that really the case?

For myself, I've found that it seems to make more sense for me to get showered and dressed (and to have the bedroom straightened up) before I begin preparing breakfast. That way, if I have something that's going to take a long time - like Stewed Apricots or Prunes - I can get those started before getting dressed and have plenty to do while they're bubbling away on the back burner. Plus, I'm just not able to summon any kind of appetite as soon as I get out of bed in the morning. Definitely need some time to rustle that up! Since I have to head to work by 7:15 or so, I might as well be fully dressed as I go about my early morning chores.

Was it an age thing? Were older women more likely to be dressed for the day before leaving the bedroom? Were mothers - who also had to get the kids up and dressed - more likely to spend the early morning in bathrobe and slippers? Where do housecoats fit in? Here are some wonderful photos of '40s housewives in morning garb courtesy of the Library of Congress. The captions were written by the photographers.

Sheffield, Alabama. Mrs. Hall prepares breakfast for her husband before he leaves for work at the aluminum plant. (June 1942)

Washington, D.C. Lynn Massman, wife of a student at the Naval Air Station, eating breakfast while her eight-weeks-old son takes a nap. (December 1943)

Cincinnati, Ohio. Mrs. Cochran, the wife of a Greyhound bus driver, giving the children Sunday breakfast. (September 1943)

Frankford, Pennsylvania. Although she's one of America's vital production workers eight hours each day, fifty-five-year-old Eva Smuda still finds plenty of time to devote to home and family. Before the rest of the household is up, she has breakfast on the stove. (March 1942)

I was super excited when I found some Wheatena at one of the local grocery stores on my way home from work today. I've been looking all over for something wheat-y in the hot cereal section. And just in the nick of time, too, as I spy Cooked Whole-wheat Cereal coming up on the menu. The next item on my scavenger list: maple sugar. My breakfast this morning was building-blocks basic:

Grapefruit Juice

Cooked Farina and Barley Cereal

You know, I don't mind the lumps in my cereal very much when they happen, but I'm finding it's become a point of pride or something to make lump-free cereal. What's happening to me?!?