Mod Party

Published March 3, 2013 by Sandee

pink cigarette case

You are cordially invited to my 1960s “Les Baxter” party.  Yeah I know, I know — just work with me here…

When I was a kid this is what adulthood looked like to me.  I’m prompted by Twinkly Sparkles’ post on what it was like to be a kid in the 1960s imagining what being a grown up was like. My mom is light with long hair that she wore in the style of a lot of the white women on TV back then.  My dad and mom went to parties of my dad’s artist friends and there would be pictures.

My party is slightly based on that but mostly based on media images and a few of the dirty magazines I “happened” on back then.

So guys put on your smoking jackets.  Cigars and pipes welcome!  We won’t protest in self-righteous health-awareness.  You’ll get none of that “Oh my God that stinks!” at my party.  Girls – yeah I said it – GIRLS – this is pre “women’s liberation” era – bring your cigarette holders and pink-filtered cigarettes, but no lighters.  The boys at the party will eagerly light your cigarettes on the terrace overlooking the Hudson.  Black women, wear your newly liberating afros, but you have to wear head bands, mini–skirts and Nancy Sinatra go-go boots.  Wear your grooviest bouffants and pale peach-colored lipsticks – re-apply after eating the fondue.

Martinis abound, the plain ones with no fruit, chocolate, peppermint or marshmallows– blech!  Drink up, smoke, swap wives and have an orgy in the blue room – no condoms.  Next week you’re all invited to the Cheetah Club on 53rd and Broadway!

This wasn’t the sixties but I’m going to play it at my party:

We actually had this album at home:

55 comments on “Mod Party

  • Hi Sandée!
    I love when everyone smokes and men light my cigarette (that I no longer smoke.) I love buffant hair-do’s and always wear lipstick, even in the worst of times.

    Sorry I’ve been being such a dick-blogger/friend/lover.


  • Those times were awesome (from what I recall sneaking peeks from the hallway) Yes, I’m coming too and now I just have to get my hair piece fixed and my silver mini-dress cleaned 🙂

    • False eyelashes for sure! Love it — those are a definite staple accessory of that time. That Brasil 66 song is from Austin Powers. But my family had that album. My mom listened to it all the time. I almost didn’t want to post it because of its association with the movie — but it is also a part of my past as well.

  • Count me in! I’m gonna get my hair teased and styled for extra volume. I’ll be wearing my fishnet stockings and my best polyester mini dress with the mock belt. Maybe that’s not dressy enough? Okay, I’ll wear that baby blue taffeta sleeveless shift I have hanging in my closet. If there’s dancing, which I’m sure there will be, I’ll be showing off my moves.
    Sandee, this is gonna be one hip party!! Thanks for the invite!!

    Do you need me to bring an appetizer?

    • I knew I could count on you — especially since we’re the same age! We can do that dance where they flailed their arms up over their heads! And I think Swedish meatballs would be groovy!

  • Auntie Sandee,
    I’ll be there in my best John Steed outfit, trading my fedora for a melon hat.
    Can you hear my British accent? Much obliged.
    Le Mod Clown

    • I’m so glad you can appreciate these songs Jessica! I swear I listen to them alllll the time, which is what motivated me to write this post. And your son — he’s one cool dude for digging these tunes.

  • This is my kind of party, Sandee. I’ll be the one with the blonde upsweep hairdo (black and white polka-dot in my hair), mini ruffle dress and go-go boots. My cig holder will be black and white and I take my martinis just a little dirty. 🙂

    • Ahaha! Your description of what you’re wearing — the cig holder — shoot — this makes me really want to have a mod party! The good ‘ol days, when the dirty martini was one in only a couple of choices you had as opposed to today when it’s just plain gotten out of hand!

    • With that cute Vidal Sasson-like hair cut, you’d fit in all too well I’m afraid — I don’t think you could escape being part of us “fab people”! I could see you now in the cutest pink mini-dress looking too sassy…

  • Thanks for the link, Sandee!

    I would love to Samba all night at your party. I will look for some appropriate vintage wear. I will also inhale others’ cigarette smoke, thus staying true to not smoking, yet enjoying a vicarious indulgence.

    It sounds like your parents were more hip than mine. I think this is because mine are (were, in the case if my father) a. white and b. European and c. probably older than yours (my dad was born in 1921! can you believe it?).

    They tried to be hip and it was Detroit and all, but they really only made it to something as lame as the Ray Coniff Singers on vinyl. This is about as square as you can get. It’s sad. I can’t even believe I’m admitting it….

    Thanks again. I do so enjoy all the cool shit that can go on with blogging.


    • Katherine! I have you to thank for inspiring me to post this. Because we had some of the same experience with what we thought adulthood would be like from that vantage point, I wondered how similar that experience might be. Okay now Ray Coniff, I think I’d have to pass on him — but we could make an exception…

    • Ahahaha! Mod is short for modern — in the 60s they used the term to imply hipness. I know — you don’t hear that phrase anymore these days unless someone has been in a time warp!

  • There was a bit of a revival in the 80’s for 60’s stuff…Bebe …Mary Quant etc Done the whole Carnaby Street thing and moved on. So can I come as a hippie instead? Then I can just leave the cage we all call a bra home and look kinda… sorta normal!! Yippee!! LMAO

  • Enjoyed groovin’ to your words and style baby!
    Found you via Le Clown’s last post.
    After reading a bit here (so far) I’m hooked. subscribed to you and checking out your book selection.
    Bust up at this post. Am also a child of the 60’s, mom had the bleach streaked bouffant, parents with bridge parties, ciggies and martini glasses everywhere.
    Dad was a psychiatrist and in the military as well during the 60’s. You know how they partied.
    No wonder I spend my days now practicing acceptance. Rule 62 helps.

    Thank you for the trip down memory lane

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