I don’t know who these young ladies are nor where the single frame was taken. Looks like they might have had plans for something special that evening.
Me? The rest of the roll was of rescue workers dragging for a drowning victim. I never knew what I was going to be doing from one minute to another.
You can click on the photo to make it larger if that’ll help you identify who the girls are.
I remember those curlers! I wonder if they were orange juice cans? We had to use them for awhile, if you remember–because our big hair look couldn’t be achieved with any of the rollers on the market.
After our hair was dry, we brushed it out, teased it to dizzying heights, and sprayed it till it was stiff.
Such were the styles of the sixties!
Looks like Sally Lorberg driving her Firebird. Not sure who the passenger is.
Ouch! Brush rollers! Filled with prickly bristles that stuck and scratched your scalp. Held in place by equally painful plastic ‘picks’ which gouged into your scalp. Then we baked our heads under a hotter-than-purgatory hood type dryer. Just a few short years later, we were ironing our hair to remove any trace of waves or curls. It’s a wonder any of us ‘boomer women’ have any hair left, after we tortured it for so many years!
It is indeed Sally Loberg (no ‘r’ Terry), a classmate and friend from ’68 with whom I’ve lost touch. She lived a block away and loved that car. It was a bit nicer than my ’55 Chevy, but one couldn’t put a six-pack between the grill and hood on the Firebird. Useless for cooling beer while running Broadway to Wimpy’s and back.
Silly Boys . . .
The passenger is Diane Fisher.
Right, anyone?
It looks like Diane to me, Charlotte.
Terry Darter, Brad and I went on our first official date with you and Diane.