Ladies, I heard it the other day. Donovan’s soft voice sang, “Wear Your Love like Heaven” on Youtube. I was taken back to psychedelic posters, mini skirts, and girlfriends crying over the rumor, “Paul is dead”. Here are eight items that might also bring you back to the late 1960’s…

Jean Nate Lotion – Don’t tell my mom, but I’d “borrow” that green bottle with its black top frequently from her shelf in the linen closet. “After Bath Splash” smelled clean and lemony and at twelve, was the height of glamour and sophisticated womanhood. Okay, the bees swarmed around me more when I played softball, but it didn’t matter. I loved it.

Yardley lipstick – I once visited this British-based cosmetics store with my seventh-grade friend Stephanie near Manhattan’s Rockefeller center. We were thirteen and swooned over rosy blushes, black eyeliners, and frosty pink lipsticks. Pictures of Jean Shrimpton, Pattie Boyd, and Twiggy stared back at us with their wide, knowing eyes, and pouty mouths. The smell in these shops was sweet, almost like bubble gum. I still can’t see a certain shade of pink without thinking back to that day in 1968.

Embroidered Bell-bottoms – A family of five teenage sisters lived up the street. To my young mind, they were the height of “far out” with their long, flowing hair and blasé cool. They sat around on summer afternoons embroidering jeans with colorful flowers, birds, and big, bright suns. Incense filled the air. Grace Slick sang, “Don’t You Want Somebody to Love?” The other day I saw a picture of these faded jeans from the 60’s, like a dusty relic from yesteryear. It brought me back to those afternoons.

Peasant blouses – These were usually white, comfortable, and bohemian. My girlfriends would walk around barefoot on warm summer roads wearing these tops, sometimes under denim overalls. We’d carry transistor radios playing WABC from New York with Cousin Brucie and the ever-joking Dan Ingram. Wearing these blouses, my friends and I felt part of the hippie counterculture – rebellious, liberated, and devastatingly hip — even though we were in eighth grade.

Ironing Our Hair (or using round empty orange juice cans) for straightening — Alas, I never had the straight, long tresses other girls grew effortlessly. Mine were too temperamental — flat and boring on cold days, frizzy and out of control on hot. Ironing my hair always scared me. What if I set myself on fire? But sleep on huge, torturous rollers that kept me up all night with the hope of a perfect ‘do? Done. My father would shake his head in horror.

Slathering Johnson’s Baby Oil on at the beach… followed by a fold-out reflector — Good God, what were we thinking? I always wondered why I came away looking like a cooked lobster, instead of the bronzed goddess I was going for. My dermatologist is still thanking me.

“Playboy After Dark” – This TV show would be on in the wee hours while I babysat the kids next door. At fourteen, I’d stare in wonder at this adult world where beautiful women mingled with handsome men atop some penthouse, city lights twinkling outside. They had good musical guests and everybody (including Hef) would end up dancing “The Pony” or “The Hitchhiker.” Sayings like “Groovy” and “Do Your Thing” were thrown about. I couldn’t imagine anything more mod.

Tab and Fresca – These fizzy diet drinks were usually consumed around the pool by moms, while smoking long, thin Virginia Slims cigarettes (“You’ve come a long way, baby.”). I never understood why these older women seemed so fixated on calories and losing weight, but Tab and Fresca sat in the fridge of every mom I babysat for. Sigh. Now I understand.

And then this era ended.

Some say the Manson Murders broke the spell of the sixties. Innocence was lost. And even though the Vietnam War had waged for years, this event chilled the nation. Living a sheltered life, I’d never heard of the brutality that took place one night in August of 1969. In a way, my innocence was lost too.

Half a century later, I’ll see long, straight hair, a bottle of Johnson’s baby oil, or a picture of Fresca and think of that time. I’ll remember borrowing my mom’s Jean Nate and my poor father’s confusion over choosing hair over sleep. Maybe its because we were all happy back then. Maybe because my father was young and still alive. Life was good.

Even today, so many years later I’ll hear, “Wear Your Love Like Heaven” and smile.

Where you a chick in the 1960’s? Comments are always welcome and please share, if so inclined.

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