I Wore 70s Male Attire For a Week — Here’s How It Actually Felt

I’m Kayla, and I love trying clothes with a story. So I spent a full week wearing 70s male outfits. Real pants. Real shirts. Real shoes. Not costumes from a party store. I mixed true vintage with modern pieces that feel right.

You know what? It was fun. It was also hot. And loud. And kind of magic.

Why the 70s?

The shapes are bold. The collars are huge. Colors look warm and rich. Think Soul Train, Saturday Night Fever, that cousin with the gold chain. I wanted that swagger. But I also wanted to see if I could wear it on a normal Tuesday without feeling silly. Scrolling through the image archives at Super70s felt like leafing through a retro yearbook and gave me all the confidence I needed to commit.
For a concise breakdown of the key looks guys actually wore back then, I skimmed this guide to 70s men’s fashion, and it became my blueprint.

Let me explain what I wore, where I wore it, and what happened.

Outfit 1: The Leisure Suit That Smiles Back

  • Brown polyester leisure suit jacket (Botany 500, vintage, size 38R)
  • Matching pants, high waist
  • Cream disco shirt with brown paisley print (Towncraft)
  • Gold rope chain, 4 mm
  • Ray-Ban RB3025 gold aviators, 58 mm
  • Black platform loafers (Stacy Adams, 1.75-inch heel)

I wore this to a friend’s backyard BBQ. The jacket had wide lapels and big patch pockets. The shirt had a long point collar that sat over the lapels, just like the movies. The pants hit high on my waist and made my legs look long.

Pros? The shape was sharp. People smiled the second they saw me. A stranger said, “Bee Gees?” and did a tiny spin. I laughed.

Cons? Polyester runs hot. The fabric felt a bit scratchy. I got static cling near the hem. I used a dryer sheet on the pants, and it helped.

Outfit 2: Bootcuts and Corduroy, AKA Easy Day

  • Levi’s 517 bootcut jeans (faded indigo, 31×32, bought used)
  • Rust corduroy trucker jacket (Levi’s Type 3)
  • Plain white tee (Hanes)
  • Puma Suede Classic sneakers in red
  • Big oval belt buckle with a longhorn

I wore this on a coffee run and to the office. The bootcut shape falls over shoes so nice. It gives a clean line without looking stiff. The cord jacket was warm but not sweaty. The big buckle felt silly when I sat down, then looked great when I stood up. Go figure.

This look got the most “Where’d you get that?” questions. It reads 70s, but it also feels current. No costume vibe, just cool.

Outfit 3: Disco Night Test — Shine and Spin

  • Navy satin shirt with a wild geometric print (Nik-Nik style, modern repro)
  • Wrangler bell-bottoms, high rise
  • Black Chelsea boots with a 2-inch heel (Thursday Boots)
  • Slim black scarf

I wore this to a retro skate night. The shirt moved like water. The pants flared just right, so when I skated, the hem had sway. I felt taller in the boots. I also felt brave. A little glam goes a long way.

The get-up had me flirting with the boundary between playful style and daring reveal—think of it as the fashion equivalent of the cheeky confidence on display in this French photo diary, je montre mon minou, which offers an unfiltered look at how owning your body can spark both liberation and fresh styling ideas.

Downside: the heels got heavy after two hours. My feet yelled at me, but my ego said keep going. I stretched my calves the next day. Worth it.

Outfit 4: Track Vibes for Errands

  • Adidas track jacket, navy with white stripes
  • Light-wash jeans, straight leg
  • White tube socks with stripes
  • Adidas Samba leather sneakers

This was my grocery store look. It felt sporty, clean, and still 70s. A dad in line nodded at my shoes and said, “Old school. Respect.” Small moment. Big grin.

Outfit 5: Movie-Night Mix — Velvet and Denim

  • Black velvet blazer (vintage, slightly worn elbows)
  • Thin cream turtleneck
  • Levi’s 646 bootcut
  • T.U.K. black platform creepers
  • A spritz of Brut cologne (yes, that one)

We watched an old Bond film. The velvet caught the light, and the turtleneck kept it simple. The Brut scent took me straight to my uncle’s holiday parties—green bottle, big energy. One spray is plenty, trust me.

What Worked Great

  • High waists are comfy. They hold you in without pinching.
  • Bootcuts and flares make legs look long.
  • Warm tones—rust, mustard, chocolate—make skin pop.
  • A gold chain plus aviators = instant 70s.
  • Corduroy is your friend in fall. It wears well and feels soft.

What Bugged Me

  • Polyester runs warm and can itch. Anti-static spray helps.
  • Vintage sizing is weird. A “Medium” can fit like a “Small.”
  • Heeled boots look cool but tire feet fast.
  • Wide collars can flip weird under jackets. Press them, and you’re fine.

Fit and Care Tips I Learned

  • Measure, don’t guess. Check waist, rise, inseam, and leg opening.
  • For flares, hem to hit the top of your heel. Too short ruins the look.
  • Wash polyester on cold and hang dry. It stays smooth.
  • Brush corduroy with a soft brush so it doesn’t crush.
  • For old thrift finds, air them out in the sun for a few hours.
  • A little tailoring goes far. I took in one waist 1 inch, and it changed everything.

Real-World Reactions

  • My neighbor said, “You look like Soul Train stepped off the TV.” I took that as a win.
  • My aunt touched the leisure suit sleeve and said, “My prom date wore this fabric.” Then we all laughed.
  • A teen at the skate rink asked where I got my scarf. I said, “It’s just a thin one from a craft store.” He said, “Sick.” Made my night.

Those quick compliments made me wonder where else I could bring this newfound retro swagger and keep the good vibes rolling. If you’re in northern Colorado and want a short-cut guide to bars, dance nights, or themed events that welcome bell-bottoms and bold collars, check the local classifieds at Backpage Loveland—the regularly updated posts help you zero in on meet-ups and venues where showing up in satin and flares is more conversation starter than costume.

These reactions make more sense when you remember how revolutionary the 1970s in fashion really were—everything from fabric tech to gender-bending silhouettes left a mark we still feel now.

Quick Buy List to Start

  • Levi’s 517 or 646 jeans
  • One rust or mustard corduroy jacket
  • A long-collar print shirt (brown or navy base)
  • Gold rope chain (3–4 mm), not too chunky
  • Ray-Ban aviators or any big teardrop shades
  • Puma Suede or Adidas Samba sneakers
  • Black heeled Chelsea boots for going out
  • One wide tie or a big belt buckle for flair

How to Wear It Without Feeling Like a Costume

  • Pair one loud piece with two calm ones. Big collar, plain pants, simple shoes.
  • Keep colors warm and stick to 2–3 per outfit.
  • Let the fit do the talking. High rise, clean line, little flare.
  • If you’re shy, start with sunglasses and a belt buckle.

Would I Wear It Again?

Yes. Not on a 95-degree day, but yes. The 70s look made me stand taller. It also made people smile, which counts. I’ll keep the bootcuts in heavy rotation, and I’ll mix the leisure jacket with a white tee and sneakers.

And if I want to feel brave? I’ll bring back the satin shirt and the little scarf. Sometimes you need clothes that cheer for you before you even walk in. For another take on spending seven days in vintage swagger, this firsthand account dives into how it really feels to rock 70s male attire for a full week.

Gifts for Boomers I Actually Gave (And They Still Use)

I’m Kayla Sox. I shop a lot for my folks and their friends. Real people. Born in the mid-50s. They like things that work and don’t make them feel silly. Same.
Need more inspo? This comprehensive guide on gifts for baby boomers lays out even more tried-and-true winners if you’re still hunting.
Want the straight list without my long stories? You'll find it in the full Super70s gift rundown where I first pulled everything together.

Here’s what I bought, what stuck, and what flopped a bit. You know what? Some of these surprised me.

The Reader That Saved My Mom’s Eyes: Kindle Paperwhite

I gave my mom a Kindle Paperwhite two years ago. She reads at night in bed. Big font helps. The light is soft. The battery lasts days. Weeks if she forgets to charge, which happens. She took it to the beach too. It handled a splash.

  • What I love: Big text, no glare, easy tap pages.
  • What bugged us: Setup took me 20 minutes. The touch screen misses taps now and then.

Quick note: I turned off ads. Worth it for her.

Photos Without “How Do I Open That?”: Aura Carver Frame

I send new grandkid photos to my aunt’s Aura frame from my phone. No fuss. It sits on her kitchen counter and pulls new pics over Wi-Fi. She smiles, then calls me to tell me which one made her cry. Good tears.

  • Good stuff: Bright screen, auto-dims at night, easy app.
  • Not-so-good: Needs Wi-Fi. Crops a few images weird. I redo them sometimes.

A small thing: I set it to shuffle old photos, not just new ones. Feels like a time machine.

Calls That Just Work: Echo Show 8

My dad is hard of hearing. Face calls help. The Echo Show 8 lets him say, “Alexa, call Kayla,” and boom—there I am. The screen is clear. The speaker is loud. We even do dinner check-ins while he stirs chili.

  • Pros: Hands-free calling, nice sound, simple weather and timers.
  • Cons: Privacy worries. I turned the camera shutter on when not in use. Also, an update moved buttons once. He didn’t love that.

But it keeps him close. That counts.

Lost Keys, Found Fast: Tile Pro and AirTag

This one is a split. My mom has an iPhone, so I put an Apple AirTag on her keys. My dad uses Android, so he got a Tile Pro. Both beep loud enough for the hallway. Both saved us from the “Where are my keys?” drama.

  • AirTag: Works great with iPhone. The “Find My” arrow is slick.
  • Tile Pro: Works on both iPhone and Android and has a nice ring volume.

Downsides? Batteries need swapping once a year. Not hard, but easy to forget. I set a calendar note.

Simple, Loud, Big Buttons: Jitterbug Flip2

My neighbor, Mrs. L, wanted a phone that didn’t feel like homework. I got her the Jitterbug Flip2. Big buttons, bright screen, and a giant “Urgent Response” button. She likes the voice dial too.

  • Why it’s great: Easy, clear, and loud.
  • Catch: You need a plan with Lively. Not free. But the support team actually answered when we called. Rare.

If the person in your life says, “I just want a phone,” this is it.

Pain Help Without The Fancy Spa: Theragun Mini

I have a bad shoulder from, well, life. I used the Theragun Mini, then handed it to my dad after he trimmed hedges. He said, “Wow, that gets in there.” It did. It’s small, fits in a drawer, and hits tight spots well.

  • I like: Strong punch, tiny size, charges fast.
  • I don’t: It’s a bit loud. And too strong for some spots. Go slow.

We use it after yard work. Five minutes helps.

Kitchen Helpers That Don’t Judge: OXO Good Grips Jar Opener + Kuhn Rikon Can Opener

Grip can fade with age. Pride can stick, though. So I wrapped these as a “kitchen upgrade.” The OXO jar opener bites the lid. The Kuhn Rikon can opener cuts smooth and clean.

  • Wins: Less wrist pain, no sharp edges, easy rinse.
  • Minor gripe: They take up space in the drawer. Worth it.

These got cheers during chili night. Small wins matter.

For Garden Joy: Felco F2 Pruners

My dad treats tools like friends. He loves the Felco F2 pruners. They’re sharp, solid, and you can replace the parts. He oils them after use. Old-school pride.

  • Strong points: Clean cuts, comfy handles, lasts years.
  • Weak points: Pricey. Needs a quick wipe and oil now and then.

If you’re looking for something that feels high-end but won’t blow the budget, check out this list of affordable luxury holiday gifts for boomers—every pick comes in under $100.

He calls them his “Sunday scissors.” Cute.

Simple TV That Stops the Remote Wars: Roku Streaming Stick 4K

We kept losing track of which remote did what. I plugged a Roku Streaming Stick into the TV and set up the buttons for volume and power. Now my mom opens Netflix with one click. Done.

  • Good: Clear menu, one remote, quick load.
  • Not great: The tiny remote loves to hide in couch cushions. We added a bright case.

Now movie night starts fast, not with sighs.

Warm But Not Heavy: Sunbeam Heated Throw

Winter hits and my mom curls up with the Sunbeam heated throw. It warms fast and shuts off on its own. She reads, I bring tea, we call it cozy hour.

  • Love: Soft, warms even, easy dial.
  • Meh: Cords. They always tangle. Wash with care.

Still worth it. Her cat steals it, by the way.

Old Memories, New Life: Legacybox Kit

I sent a old box of slides from my grandpa to Legacybox. They sent back digital files and a thumb drive. My aunt watched on her TV and cried happy. We found a photo of her first car. A red one. Big moment.

  • Sweet: Simple mail-in, clear files, family night gold.
  • Sour: It’s not cheap. And it takes a few weeks.

Plan ahead for birthdays or Mother’s Day. Big hit.

If you want to spark even more nostalgia, a quick browse through Super70s will remind them of the music, TV shows, and quirky gadgets they grew up with.
For pure fun, send them this challenge about wearing 70s male attire for a week—it’s a hilarious read that always gets my dad talking about his bell-bottom days.

A Boring Gift That Helps: Omron Upper Arm Blood Pressure Monitor

I know, not fun. But useful. I bought an Omron for my uncle after his doctor asked for home checks. Big numbers, one button start, cuff that fits right.

  • Good: Clear screen, steady readings, stores results.
  • Note: Numbers can cause worry. We made a plan with his doctor first.

Now health talks feel calmer. Data helps.

Quick Gift Pairings That Worked

  • For readers: Kindle + soft book light bookmark
  • For gardeners: Felco F2 + kneeling pad
  • For the chilly: Heated throw + herbal tea sampler

Simple pairs feel thoughtful.

What Flopped (So You Don’t Repeat My Mistake)

  • Fancy coffee warmer: My dad forgot to use it.
  • Smart scale: Too many numbers. Stress went up.
  • Super complex tablet: Sat in a drawer. We went back to a Flip phone.

Sometimes “more features” means more dust.

Final Take

Boomers don’t need tech for tech’s sake. They want gear that feels kind. Clear, sturdy, and not bossy. I look for big text, easy buttons, and things that don’t nag. If it brings comfort, saves time, or sparks a memory, it wins.

On the “still young at heart” front, a few of my parents’ friends have been curious about how today’s social apps can add a little playful spark to their empty-nest routine. If your favorite boomer is tech-savvy enough to dabble in Snapchat and wants a no-nonsense rundown of its spicier side, point them toward this straightforward Snap Chaudasse guide—it walks newbies through finding adult-only Snap accounts, setting privacy controls, and staying safe while exploring, so they can flirt or just satisfy curiosity without feeling lost. Additionally, if they’re in the Sacramento area and would rather stick to classic classifieds than download another new app, the revamped Backpage Elk Grove personals lists local companions, casual meet-up opportunities, and event invites—perfect

Rings, Smoke, and Goosebumps: My Take on Wrestlers from the ’70s

Here’s the thing. I didn’t just read about the 70s guys. I chased their tapes, wore out my VCR, and sat with family on the couch while the room smelled like popcorn and old carpet. I watched Bruno, Dusty, Harley, and Andre throw down in those slow, heavy matches that felt like thunder rolling in. You know what? They still hit.

How I watched them (and still do)

My dad saved old VHS tapes from the local video shop. I’d rewind the same bouts till the tape got wavy. Later, I found more on the WWE classics library and old DVDs from Highspots. Sometimes I saw grainy stuff from Japan and AWA on a friend’s hard drive. It wasn’t fancy. But it felt real.
Lately, when I need a quick nostalgia jolt, I pull up this short clip on YouTube that captures the atmosphere perfectly.

If you want to tumble even deeper into that decade’s atmosphere—stats, ticket stubs, pop culture, and all—take a spin through Super70s and feel the time-capsule glow.
For a play-by-play breakdown of the most unforgettable bouts, my long-form recap lives right over here.

The feel of the era

Small arenas. A haze over the ring. Loud, honest fans. The territory system made every town feel like its own world. Belts meant something. A handshake could sell a main event. The pace was slower than now, sure, but the stories had weight. If a guy bled, the whole place went quiet.

The big names I felt in my chest

  • Bruno Sammartino: At Madison Square Garden, the crowd sounded like a storm. His lock-ups looked like work, not play. Bruno vs. Superstar Billy Graham in 1977? I swear the noise got in my bones. If you’ve never seen that showdown, the 8/29/77 MSG event is streaming on Peacock in full. Pros: power, heart, a true champ feel. Cons: some matches ran long, with a lot of holds.

  • “Superstar” Billy Graham: The look, the tie-dye, the strut. He talked like a preacher and flexed like a statue. He made the heel role look cool. Pros: promo master, style for days. Cons: ring work could be simple, but the swagger covered it. I even put his loud style to the test for seven days—here's how the experiment felt.

  • Dusty Rhodes: The “son of a plumber” made me tear up more than once. That lisp didn’t hide a thing; it made him human. Dusty could sell pain like a movie. Pros: best talker of the decade. Cons: some finishes felt messy; the brawls could get wild and slow.

  • Harley Race: Tough as old leather. Every slam had snap. He gave and took pain without blinking. Harley vs. Terry Funk in 1977? Grit you can taste. Pros: big-match aura, nasty suplexes. Cons: not flashy; if you want flips, look elsewhere.

  • Ric Flair (young Flair): Still finding the “Nature Boy” groove, but slick even then. He bumped like a pinball. Early Flair vs. Ricky Steamboat in the late 70s had sparks already. Pros: pace, selling, style. Cons: not peak Flair yet.

  • Andre the Giant: Seeing him walk to the ring felt like watching a mountain move. I once saw an old match with Blackjack Mulligan where the ring ropes shook from just their tie-up. Pros: presence like no one else. Cons: later in the decade he slowed, but the aura stayed.

  • Nick Bockwinkel: Smooth as a suit. Talked like a lawyer, wrestled like a chess player. Bockwinkel vs. Verne Gagne in 1978 felt classy and mean at once. Pros: brains and timing. Cons: can feel “technical” if you want chaos.

  • Stan Hansen: Wild cowboy energy. Stiff shots that made me wince. His 1976 run against Bruno? Brutal and real. Pros: raw power, chaos. Cons: not pretty; more storm than dance.

Matches I still rewatch

  • Bruno Sammartino vs. Superstar Billy Graham (MSG, 1977)
  • Stan Hansen vs. Bruno Sammartino (1976, the famous rough one)
  • Harley Race vs. Terry Funk (1977, NWA title change era)
  • Nick Bockwinkel vs. Verne Gagne (AWA, 1978)
  • Ric Flair vs. Ricky Steamboat (Mid-Atlantic TV, 1979)

They’re slower than modern sets. But the crowd reactions are the tell. You can feel the heat through the screen.

What didn’t age well

Some angles crossed lines. A few promos used words we don’t use now. Blood showed up a lot, and not in a safe way. Time limits and chinlocks could drag. If you love high spots every minute, you may get restless. I get it.

What I loved anyway

  • Selling and pacing: A headlock meant something. A near-fall felt like a cliff edge.
  • Promos: Dusty, Graham, Bockwinkel—three very different voices, all sticky in your head.
  • Stakes: Titles felt heavy. Town-to-town feuds felt personal.

Little moments that stuck with me

I remember a Bruno comeback where the camera shook from stomps. I remember Dusty calling out “hard times” and my uncle nodding like he’d lived it. I remember Harley spiking a guy and the crowd going quiet, like a church gasp. And I remember Andre smiling at a kid in the front row, and the whole section melting.

Where I watch now

Most of what I revisit sits on the WWE library on Peacock, and old DVD sets in a shoebox. I also flip through old Pro Wrestling Illustrated mags I grabbed at flea markets. The paper feels soft and smells like a basement, which, weirdly, adds charm.

If those late-night nostalgia sessions ever leave you wanting some grown-up conversation beyond the squared circle, check out this roundup of adults-only, totally free hookup apps—it lays out which platforms are busiest and gives direct download links so you can start chatting without dropping a dime.

True story: last summer I road-tripped to Waterloo, Iowa for the George Tragos/Lou Thesz Hall of Fame weekend. If you ever swing through neighboring Cedar Falls and want the kind of downtime that’s a little more adult than a headlock, Backpage Cedar Falls lists local companions and discreet meet-up spots so you can keep the night exciting long after the final bell.

Who this era fits

  • New fans who like story first, moves second
  • Old-school heads who miss the slow burn
  • Parents showing kids why grandpa yelled at the TV
  • Anyone who wants to hear a crowd, not just see one
  • Anyone hunting for a crowd-pleasing throwback present can peek at these gifts for boomers that still get mileage

Quick lingo, plain talk

  • Face = good guy. Heel = bad guy.
  • Promo = talk to sell a fight.
  • Work stiff = hits look and sometimes feel real.
  • Territory = local group before one big company ran everything.

My verdict

Wrestlers from the 70s get 4.5 out of 5 from me. The matches can be slow. Some bits aged rough. But the heart? Huge. The sound of those crowds? Goosebumps. If you give them time, they give you stories you can feel in your chest.

Honestly, I still press play on Bruno vs. Graham when I need to remember why I love wrestling. And when Dusty says he’s got hard times, I believe him—every single time.

I Watched a Ton of 70s Horror. Here’s What Still Haunts Me.

I’m Kayla, and I grew up on creaky couches, late-night TV, and a stack of old tapes from my uncle’s shelf. Horror from the 70s hit me first and hardest. It’s bare. It’s sweaty. It feels real. You know what? It still makes me check the dark corners when I walk down the hall.

Why the 70s Still Get Under My Skin

These movies move slow, but not dull. The quiet builds. The sound stings. You feel the room. There’s grit in the picture and in the stories. I can smell dust, hear a fan whir, and then—bam—one sharp scare. Not ten. One. And it lands. If you want to dig even deeper into the terror that lingers, my full breakdown goes scene by scene through the nightmares that refuse to die.
When I want to plunge even deeper into the era’s cracked vinyl and celluloid shadows, I scroll through Super70s for a quick hit of period trivia that makes every rewatch feel fresher and creepier.

Do I love them? Yes. Do some parts age rough? Also yes. But that’s part of the charm, like a vinyl record with a scratch that makes the song yours.

The Exorcist (1973): The Sound Is the Scare

I watched this in my mom’s living room with the lights low. I said I was fine. I was not fine. The fear isn’t just the “pea soup” scene, though that’s the one people toss around. It’s the hush. The soft rumble in the walls. The cold breath in the air. The hospital test scene rattled me more than the bedroom.

It’s heavy with faith, doubt, and plain human fear. I felt small, like the world had rooms I didn’t know about. It still chills me when the house goes quiet and the wind taps the window like a nail.

Halloween (1978): Suburbs, But Scary

I saw Halloween on a tiny TV with that tinny theme on loop. The camera glides down a street that looks nice and safe. Then it doesn’t. Michael has no rush. He just stands there, like a bad thought you can’t shake.

There isn’t much blood. That surprised me. It’s more about space, shadows, and that piano line finding your nerves, one note at a time. Jamie Lee Curtis sells real fear, not movie fear. I leaned forward and forgot to eat my popcorn.
Meanwhile, the decade’s horror waters were also stirred by Spielberg’s great white, and I loved revisiting its legacy in this reflective piece on “Jaws” turning 50.

The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974): Hot, Loud, and Mean

I watched this at a friend’s farmhouse, which was a mistake. The film feels hot—like the sun is angry. The camera shakes. The sound is a grind, like a saw chewing metal. People remember it as a gore fest, but it’s not. It’s the noise and sweat. It’s that dinner scene that doesn’t end when you want it to end.
Its dirt-cheap ingenuity still echoes today, and Time’s look at modern micro-budget terror like Skinamarink shows just how far a few dollars and a warped imagination can go.

I hate cruelty in movies, and I still like this one. That sounds odd, I know. But it’s raw craft. It’s a scream that got recorded. The same decade also birthed larger-than-life performers who strutted into wrestling rings with equal parts showmanship and menace, reminding me that 70s spectacle wasn’t limited to horror alone.

Suspiria (1977): A Candy-Colored Nightmare

This one is all color and pulse. The music pounds like a weird heartbeat. Walls glow. Doors hate you. The story feels like a dream that makes sense until you try to tell it out loud. I watched it and thought, “I’m inside a fairy tale, but the fairy has teeth.” It’s art you can feel in your gut.

Alien (1979): A Haunted House, But in Space

Ridley Scott makes space feel damp and used. The ship hums low, like a beast asleep. When it wakes, you know. The creature design looks alive—slick, sharp, wrong—and the effects are hands-on, not fake screens. Ripley is tough without trying to look tough. I held my breath in those narrow halls and didn’t know it till my chest hurt.

Dawn of the Dead (1978): Fun, Then It Hurts

A mall full of zombies should be silly. And it is, sometimes. The blue faces, the weird clomp of their walk—I laughed. Then it hit me why the mall feels right for them. We wander the same way, hands out, wanting stuff. Tom Savini’s gore is wild and smart, but it’s the mood shift that stays. You giggle, then you go quiet.

Black Christmas (1974): Cold Calls, Colder House

Winter horror has its own bite. This one uses silence like a weapon. The camera peeks from dark places, and the phone calls scrape at your nerves. The ending doesn’t tuck you in. I watched it near a frosty window, and every crack sounded like a whisper that knew my name.

The Wicker Man (1973): Sunlight Can Lie

This one tricked me. It’s bright. People sing. There are flowers and smiles. But the island feels wrong, like a grin that goes too wide. The last scene—yeah, that one—left me numb. I walked around the kitchen for ten minutes, not sure where to put my hands.

Carrie (1976): High School as a Monster

I don’t rewatch this a lot. It hurts. The gym lights, the looks, the petty laughs—it all builds to that prom. The split-screen shots feel like a panic attack. The final shock made me jump so hard I spilled soda on my socks. Piper Laurie’s stare could cut glass.

Don’t Look Now (1973): Grief in Red

Slow, sad, and tense. The canals, the mist, the little flashes of red—they tease your eyes. It’s less “boo!” and more “what did I just see?” The editing is sharp and strange. I felt uneasy for days, like the movie stayed behind my eyelids.

What Aged Well

  • Practical effects you can touch. Rubber, blood, smoke—your brain buys it.
  • Music that feels human. Small themes. Big mood.
  • The slow build. They trust you to wait, and that makes the hit stronger.

What Didn’t (Yeah, it’s there)

  • Some lines and gender stuff feel dusty. You’ll notice. Even the wardrobe can rub the wrong way; my week-long experiment with 70s male attire proved that nostalgia itches as much as it charms.
  • A few kills drag on or use shock just to shock.
  • Picture grain and mono sound? I love it. You might not. That’s fair.

My Quick Starter Pack

  • Halloween (1978) — Pure, clean fear.
  • Alien (1979) — Space terror with heart.
  • The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974) — Sweat and steel.
  • The Exorcist (1973) — Faith, sound, and dread.
  • Suspiria (1977) — Color and chaos that sings.

If you want extras, try Dawn of the Dead, Black Christmas, and The Wicker Man. Make tea. Keep a blanket. Maybe keep a light on.

Final Take

70s horror feels handmade. It creaks. It breathes. It doesn’t chase you with a thousand cuts; it waits in the hall and lets you come closer. I still love new horror—don’t get me wrong. But when a cold wind slides under the door, I reach for these old ghosts.

Strangely, the only modern scenario that gives me comparable jitters is firing up a dating app and waiting to see who—or what—pops up next; but before I even swipe, I sometimes dive into an old-school classified rabbit hole, and browsing the desert-night personals on Backpage Yucca Valley offers an unfiltered look at who’s seeking company near Joshua Tree—complete with photos, categories, and common-sense precautions so you can decide whether a spontaneous High-Desert meet-up is thrilling or chilling. If you’ve ever felt that same mix of anticipation and dread, my no-fluff Zoosk review lays out whether the service is a meet-cute or a masked menace, guiding you through its pricing, user base, and safety features so you can swipe with confidence instead of screaming.

And every time, that first note of a theme or that tiny whisper of wind says, “Hey, you remember me?” Yes. I do.

I Ate a Big Bag of 70s Candy. Here’s What Still Slaps.

I’m Kayla, and I grew up snagging candy from my older cousins. Last weekend, I grabbed a bunch of 70s candy from a retro shop and ate it all again. I shared some with my kids, and I kept a little stash for me. You know what? Some treats aged great. Some… not so much.

Let me explain.
If you want a second opinion on which chewy, fizzy, or chocolate-covered classics truly endure, peek at this deep dive into the same sugary time capsule for another retro taste-test.

If you’re hungry for even more decade-defining nostalgia, swing by Super70s and soak up the pop-culture vibes that shaped these classic sweets.

Pop Rocks: Tiny Fireworks in My Mouth

I ripped open the strawberry pack and poured it in. Snap, crackle, pop. It felt like a soda had a party on my tongue. I laughed out loud. My kids stared, then asked for more. Curious about how this crackling confection came to be? The whole story pops off on the Pop Rocks Wikipedia page.

  • What I love: the sound, the fizz, the silly mood it brings.
  • What I don’t: the aftertaste is a bit fake, and the blue flavor stains your tongue.

Would I buy it again? Yep. It’s a five-second joy burst.

Lik-M-Aid Fun Dip: Sugar on Sugar, and Then More Sugar

A chalky candy stick. A pouch of colored sugar. Dip, lick, repeat. I made a mess on the table. The grape hit hard. The cherry tasted like summer snow cones. The stick has no taste, yet I kept chewing it like it was a tool I needed for a job.

Fun? Yes. Clean? No. My fingers turned red, and my kid sneezed green dust. Still, it made us all giggle.

Bottle Caps: Soda Flavors Without the Soda

These little coins taste like root beer, cola, and orange soda. The root beer one was best. The texture is chalky, like Smarties with more attitude. Great for a movie night when you want sweet, not sticky.

Downside: they dry out your mouth, so keep water nearby. I got one stuck to a molar and did that weird tongue wiggle to pry it off. Cute? Not really.

Marathon Bar (RIP): The Sticky Legend

I found a copy of the old Marathon bar, like the UK Curly Wurly. It’s a long braid of caramel under chocolate. It smells rich, and it pulls like warm taffy. I loved it as a kid, until it got glued to my braces. This time, it still hit. Slow, chewy, cozy.

But it melts fast and strings everywhere. Eat it at home, not in your car. Trust me.
Shopping for a nostalgic surprise? Check out this list of boomer-approved gifts that actually get used for even more throwback crowd-pleasers.

Razzles: First It’s Candy, Then It’s Gum… Sort Of

I popped a lemon one. Sweet at first. Then it turned to gum, but the gum went stiff in a minute. It’s a cute trick. The taste is bright. The chew is short-lived. My jaw got tired, and the flavor checked out early.

Fun to try, not a daily thing.

Zotz: Sweet Outside, Fizzy Blast Inside

I bit into a cherry Zotz and boom—sour fizz shot out. I made a face, then laughed. It’s like a prank you pull on yourself. The fizz wakes you up, and the shell has a nice fruit taste.
That jolt of fizz feels a lot like a jump scare from the silver screen—see which flicks still deliver chills in this marathon of 70s horror favorites if you need another blast from the past.

Warning: don’t inhale while biting. I did once and coughed like a cartoon.

Jelly Belly: Tiny Beans, Big Flavor

These started in the mid-70s and they still feel fancy. I mixed buttered popcorn with cherry by mistake. Guess what? Not good. But toasted marshmallow and chocolate pudding together? Yes please. The texture is firm, not too sticky.

Some flavors are wild, and not in a good way (looking at you, buttered popcorn). But the bright ones—pear, watermelon, juicy peach—still shine.

Reese’s Pieces: Peanut Butter Crunch That Travels Well

Crisp shells, smooth peanut butter inside. Less messy than cups. They don’t melt in your hand as fast, which helps if you’re on a walk or stuck in a hot bleacher seat. My only gripe: they can taste a bit waxy if they’re old.

Pick a fresh bag. It matters.

Laffy Taffy: Jokes on the Wrapper, Tricks on Your Teeth

Banana is the star here. I won’t argue about it. It has that fake banana vibe that somehow works. The chew is thick and stretchy. It’s a slow candy. Good for long errands or late-night TV.

The jokes are corny, but I still read them. Be careful if you have dental work. I felt one bite tug a bit too hard, and my heart skipped.

Charms Blow Pops: Two Treats, One Stick

Cherry Blow Pop, and I’m 10 again. Big lick, then bite to hit the gum inside. Good flavor, nice crunch, and it lasts awhile. The gum loses taste fast, though. Also, sticky hands. My kid used a sleeve. I sighed.

Ring Pop: Wear It, Lick It, Try Not to Be Sticky

I put a ring pop on and felt ridiculous in a good way. The jewel shape still makes me smile. Flavor is bold, and you get a lot for the price. But it smears lips and leaves a halo of sugar on your chin if you’re chatting while licking. Learned that on a walk with a neighbor. Oops. If you’re curious about how this wearable candy became a playground fashion statement in 1979, take a peek at its Ring Pop history.

Skittles (Late 70s): Taste the Rainbow, Then Drink Water

Fruit, bright, chewy. I like the lemon and orange, and I’m loyal to red. The chew is firm, maybe too firm if the bag is old. After a handful, I needed water. Still, they’re great for road trips and game nights.

Just like some folks crave “eye candy” that’s more about curves than caramels, you can indulge in a different kind of retro-inspired treat by heading over to this collection of busty beauties with big 70s energy—there you’ll find live chat and photo galleries that deliver an adult-only nostalgia fix with all the sweet visuals you’re after.

What I’d Buy Again

  • Pop Rocks, for quick joy
  • Reese’s Pieces, for easy snacking
  • Jelly Belly (fruit flavors), for variety
  • Bottle Caps (root beer), for movie nights
  • Marathon-style bar, for a slow treat at home

What Can Stay in the Time Capsule

  • Razzles, since the gum fizzles fast
  • Buttered popcorn Jelly Belly, unless you enjoy chaos
  • Ring Pop, only for parties or photos
  • Fun Dip, when I’m okay with sugar dust on everything

Little Tips from a Sugar Vet

  • Check dates. Old candy gets hard, fast.
  • Keep chocolate in a cool spot. Warm car equals chocolate soup.
  • Share the fizzy stuff. It’s fun to watch faces.
  • If you’ve got braces or crowns, be careful with taffy and caramel. I’ve done the panic tongue-check. Not fun.

Before we leave the realm of sugar highs, here’s a bonus tip for anyone whose sweet tooth turns into a craving for real-life adventure after the candy bowl is empty: if you find yourself around Michigan’s Novi area and want a grown-up outing that’s as exciting as tearing into a fresh sleeve of Pop Rocks, browse the local listings on Backpage Novi—you’ll discover a curated lineup of companions and nightlife options that can turn your retro candy run into an unforgettable night on the town.

Final Bite

70s candy still brings big mood. The textures are bold. The flavors are loud. Some pieces feel like a prank. Some feel like a hug. I didn’t love every bite, but I loved the time we had eating them together. Isn’t that the point?

Now I’m curious—are you team Pop Rocks or team Reese’s Pieces? I know my answer. But I’ll keep a Fun Dip stick around, just in case.

I Spent a Month With 70s Playboy Playmates — Here’s How It Felt

I’m Kayla, and yes, I actually sat with a stack of 1970s Playboy mags and the big coffee table book, Playboy: The Complete Centerfolds. I found the mags at a flea market. Ten bucks for the lot. The hardback I borrowed from a friend who keeps it under his stereo, like it’s a vinyl sleeve. (For the blow-by-blow version, my month-long journal with the ’70s Playmates lives here.)

I didn’t rush. I made tea. I put on Fleetwood Mac. And then I read, page by page. Not skimming—reading.

The vibe check: warm light, soft hair, big confidence

The photos from the 70s don’t feel cold. The light is warm. Skin tones look golden. The sets are playful: shag rugs, wood paneling, plants everywhere. Sometimes a pool. Sometimes a ski lodge. It has mood.

You can tell the look mattered. Hair is a big deal. Natural waves. Long bangs. Brows that look like brows. Not too carved. Not too fake.

I kept seeing the same photo names pop up: Pompeo Posar, Richard Fegley, David Chan, Ken Marcus. That told me the style here wasn’t random. It was a house look, and it holds together. Like a good album, not just a hit single.

Real standouts I can’t forget

These are the women who stuck with me. Not just for the centerfold, but the way they felt on the page—the little data sheets, the smile, the posture, the pace of the set. (If you want to see who opened the decade, the full roster of 1970 Playmates is a fun starting point.)

  • Liv Lindeland (Playmate of the Year 1972): Cool, clean, and Norwegian. She looks like winter sun—bright but calm.
  • Marilyn Cole (Playmate of the Year 1973): British glamour with steel in the eyes. Poised, not precious.
  • Cyndi Wood (Playmate of the Year 1974): Feathered hair, glossy style. You can almost hear a disco bassline.
  • Marilyn Lange (Playmate of the Year 1975): Girl-next-door energy but with stadium-level charm. Big smile. Real warmth.
  • Lillian Müller (Playmate of the Year 1976): Angular and chic. A look that works in any decade, which is rare.
  • Patti McGuire (Playmate of the Year 1977): Sporty and bright. Later married Jimmy Connors. I love that note—it adds story.
  • Debra Jo Fondren (Playmate of the Year 1978): The hair is legendary. Huge, but soft. It frames her face like a halo.
  • Monique St. Pierre (Playmate of the Year 1979): Euro gloss with a cool gaze. She felt fashion-forward to me.
  • Candy Loving (January 1979 Playmate): Fresh and friendly. Her name matches her vibe, which sounds silly, but it’s true.
  • Bebe Buell (November 1974 Playmate): A rock-scene thread runs through her pages. She’s got “band on tour” energy.

I know that’s a lot of names. But I wanted you to see what the decade really looked like across the years. It wasn’t one tone. It changed.

Wait, the articles? I read them too

People joke about “reading for the articles,” but, you know what? Some of the writing is strong. The Playboy Interview with Jimmy Carter from 1976 is still shocking. He talked about “lust in his heart.” A sitting politician, saying that in print? Wild.

There’s solid fiction and essays, too. The Playboy Advisor column made me laugh. It’s frank and a little smug, but it’s useful. The ads are a time capsule: Brut cologne, hi-fi systems, long Camaro noses, low Porsche stances, and a lot of smoke. The era’s flair for spectacle even spilled into the squared circle, captured in this ode to ’70s wrestling pageantry. For a wider blast of ’70s nostalgia—including those very ads—take a spin through Super70s, which curates the decade’s quirkiest relics in one place. You can smell the paper and the cologne notes in your head.

What aged well (and what didn’t)

Here’s the thing: some parts shine. Some parts don’t.

What worked for me:

  • Warm, skilled photography with real set design
  • Centerfolds that feel like people, not mannequins
  • The “data sheet” pages—hobbies, music, little quirks
  • Hair and brows that look human, not carved up

What didn’t land:

  • A narrow view of beauty—very thin, very similar skin tones
  • Airbrushing that sands off the edges of real life
  • The male gaze is the boss; it shows

I don’t want to gloss over the harder stuff. The A&E series Secrets of Playboy and other reporting added weight to how I read these pages. It made me think about safety, power, and who got to say “yes” and “no.” The mags don’t show that part, but the world around them existed. I carried that with me.

Thinking about how romance migrates from glossy paper to glowing phones made me curious about modern matchmaking tech. If you’ve entertained the idea of meeting someone online, take two minutes to scan this no-fluff Hinge review—it breaks down what the app gets right (prompts, safety features, real bios) and where it’s still stuck in swipe culture, helping you decide whether to download or dodge. Prefer something more immediate and locally grounded than a polished dating app? Swing by this Backpage Elmira board for a throwback classifieds vibe where real-time listings connect you with nearby singles and casual meet-ups without the algorithmic haze.

How I actually used this stack

I wasn’t just daydreaming. I pulled looks for a photo shoot mood board: soft backlight, houseplants, vinyl textures, high socks, a little satin. I stole a color palette—caramel, moss, cream, and cherry. It works on modern sets. It even works in living rooms. No joke. (I even tried dressing the part for a week—spoiler: collars got huge—and wrote about it in this 70s attire experiment.)

I also clipped a few vintage ads and tucked them into a frame on my bookshelf. A Porsche ad next to a tiny cactus. It makes me smile.

Little details that made me feel there

  • Staples that creak when you fold the center. That sound is so specific.
  • The printing drift—red plates a hair off. It gives photos a hum.
  • Shel Silverstein cartoons show up, and I’m like, oh, right—him!
  • Cover blurbs that tease interviews like they’re movie trailers.

Price, format, and the easy way in

If you want the look without hunting, the big book, Playboy: The Complete Centerfolds, gives you the 70s in one sweep. I spent nights flipping, then going back to the months I liked. My flea market stack was cheap, but single issues in great shape can get pricey. If the covers are rough, the price drops fast. I didn’t mind the wear.

My verdict

Do these magazines nail modern values? No. Do they show careful craft, striking design, and a true sense of time? Yes. Big yes.

If you love vintage style, the 70s Playmates give you tone, lighting, and feel. Take the good—texture, warmth, and human faces—and keep your eyes open about the rest. That’s how I read them. That’s how I’ll keep them—on a low shelf, next to the turntable, where the light is soft and the past sits quiet.

The Women Who Sounded Like Home: My Take on Female Country Singers of the ’70s

You know what? I didn’t plan this. I just pulled a dusty milk crate from my closet and found my mom’s old country records. The sleeves smelled like paper and rain. I cleaned each one, set the needle, and let the ’70s roll back in.

These women didn’t whisper. They told the truth. Sometimes they stood their ground. Sometimes they asked for help. They sounded like kitchens, highways, and little heartbreaks you still feel when the house goes quiet.

Here’s my plain, honest listen.

If you want to go deeper into where these voices came from and how they shaped the decade, you can read the full story behind these country trailblazers.

Dolly Parton — Sparkle with steel

Dolly made pain sound sweet, but not soft. I spun Jolene, then flipped to I Will Always Love You. That pairing still hits like a one-two punch. Her tone is sugar; her phrasing is a scalpel. The band leaves little pockets of space, so her voice can land clean. That takes nerve.

I played Coat of Many Colors while making pancakes. The song feels small and huge at once. It’s a childhood memory that turns into a life rule. I love that. Dolly can smile while she breaks your heart, and you thank her for it.

Loretta Lynn — Kitchen-table truth

Loretta sounded like a woman who had work to do and no time for fuss. Coal Miner’s Daughter feels like a family photo album. The Pill? That one still crackles through the speaker like a match. The groove is spare—kick drum, a little snare, a sly guitar lick—and her voice just grabs you by the collar.

I’ve got a soft spot for her sharp lines. She didn’t flinch. She just said what needed saying, and then some.

Tammy Wynette — The ache that holds you

Tammy’s records are slow burns. Strings, weepy steel, a little choir of backing voices. On ’Til I Can Make It on My Own, she sounds tired but brave. I heard that while washing dishes, and I stopped with soap on my hands. That’s Tammy—she knows where the sore spot lives.

Her vibrato sits at the end of the note, like it needs a place to rest. And it stays with you.

Emmylou Harris — Feather and steel

Pieces of the Sky changed the air in my room. Emmylou floats, but the band’s tight. Fiddle lines weave around her, not over her. Luxury Liner has this brisk gallop; her timing rides the beat like a good horse. I love how her records feel both country and wide-open. Like long roads, no rush, windows down.

She also picks songs like a careful editor. Nothing wasted. Nothing extra.

Linda Ronstadt — The crossover I needed

Some folks say Linda wasn’t “pure” country. I get it. But Heart Like a Wheel has all the bones: steel guitar, steady pocket, clean storytelling. Blue Bayou spun on my system and I swear I could see blue lights in the room. Her power comes from control. She hits the center of the pitch and holds it like a dare.

If you grew up on rock radio, Linda is your bridge to the barn.

Another pop-leaning voice who found a welcome lane in ’70s country was Olivia Newton-John; her Grammy-winning “Let Me Be There” and later hit “Please Mr. Please” proved the jukebox could spin a little softer and still feel country.

Tanya Tucker — A kid with grown-up grit

Delta Dawn at 13? Wild. Tanya’s tone felt rough on purpose, like denim on skin. What’s Your Mama’s Name tells a whole movie in a few verses. The band sits low and steady. It lets her voice swagger. I put that record on while sorting laundry and started dancing with a towel. No shame.

She sounds fearless, even when the story isn’t.

Crystal Gayle — Silk and smoke

Don’t It Make My Brown Eyes Blue is smooth as cafe milk. Her phrasing is gentle; every note glides. This is evening music. Dim lamp, quiet room, slippers on. People call it “crossover,” but I hear craft. The piano carries the song like a hand at your back.

Also, yes, the hair. It’s a whole mood. Listening to Crystal’s velvety delivery always makes me think about other corners of life where a little extra polish and exclusivity set the tone—if that vibe intrigues you, take a peek at this Luxy review to see how a high-end dating app tries to match upscale expectations with concierge-level features, membership tiers, and blunt pros and cons before you decide to swipe in the VIP lane.

Barbara Mandrell — Polished, playful, precise

Barbara’s records are spotless. I mean that in a good way. Sleeping Single in a Double Bed bounces with clean bass and tidy drums. Her timing is pro-level; she hits those syncopations neat, like a drummer who sings. Some folks say too slick. Sometimes I want slick. Candy has a place in the cupboard.

Speaking of sweet nostalgia, I recently found out what ’70s candy still slaps—worth a bite if you’re craving more throwback flavor.

Plus, she could play just about everything. That shows up in the way she phrases.

Anne Murray — Quiet power

Snowbird feels light, but it sticks to your ribs. You Needed Me? I say I don’t like schmaltz. Then I play this and cry in the produce aisle. Her alto is warm and sure. She leaves space. She trusts the song. That’s a skill and a choice.

Jessi Colter — Outlaw with a soft knife

I’m Not Lisa sneaks up on you. The tempo drifts like a slow train, and her voice sits right at the edge of hurt. She lived in the outlaw lane, but this cut’s all heart and piano. I love a song that takes its time. This one does.

Donna Fargo, Lynn Anderson, Dottie West, Sammi Smith — The glue of the era

  • Donna Fargo’s The Happiest Girl in the Whole U.S.A. is sunshine with boots. Don’t overthink it. Smile and sing.
  • Lynn Anderson’s Rose Garden is bright and brisk, with a hook that never quits. Perfect for Sunday chores.
  • Dottie West’s Country Sunshine tastes like its title. Simple chord changes; clean pickin’.
  • Sammi Smith’s Help Me Make It Through the Night drapes the room in velvet. Late-night record. Low lights. Slow sway.

These songs held radio together between the big ballads and the barn burners.

Little studio nerd note (I promise it’s quick)

’70s country didn’t all sound the same. There was the glossy Nashville Sound with strings and choirs. There was the rougher outlaw groove with swung drums, twangy Telecasters, and roomy mixes. These women moved across that line with ease. Some stood on both sides at once. That’s why these records age well.

If you’re itching for a deeper dive into the albums, players, and pop culture flares that shaped that decade, swing by Super70s and lose an afternoon or two.

On the nights when you want to trade your headphones for an actual honky-tonk crowd—and you’re anywhere near the western Chicago suburbs—give Backpage Lisle a quick browse; its up-to-date listings can point you toward country-friendly bars, live-music spots, and kindred spirits who’d rather two-step than doom-scroll.

Pop culture wasn't only about the music, though; this candid account of spending a month with ’70s Playboy Playmates paints the era’s broader vibe in living color.

So, what still lives on my turntable?

When friends ask where to start, I pull these:

  • Dolly Parton — Jolene (for story and sting)
  • Loretta Lynn — Coal Miner’s Daughter (for truth)
  • Emmylou Harris — Pieces of the Sky (for grace)
  • Linda Ronstadt — Heart Like a Wheel (for range)
  • Tammy Wynette — ’Til I Can Make It on My Own (for ache)
  • Crystal Gayle — We Must Believe in Magic (for mood)
  • Tanya Tucker — What’s Your Mama’s Name (for grit)
  • Barbara Mandrell — Moods (for polish)
  • Jessi Colter — I’m Jessi Colter (for that slow-burn piano cut)
  • Lynn Anderson — Rose Garden (for joy)

One side a day is good medicine. Two sides if it rains.

A quick, messy memory

I once played Don’t It Make My Brown Eyes Blue at a backyard cookout. My uncle, who never cries, went quiet by the grill. He said his

I Tried 70s Jewelry Trends. Here’s What Actually Worked On Me

I wasn’t born in a disco, but it sure feels like it when I open my jewelry box. I’ve been on a 70s kick for a while. Big shine. Big stones. Big mood. But do these pieces feel good on a regular day? I wore them. I ran errands. I typed emails. I danced in my kitchen. Here’s the real stuff.
If you’re hunting for a detailed checklist of which pieces survived real-world wear, my field notes live in this companion write-up on 70s jewelry trends that actually worked on me.

If you want a quick crash course in the era’s gleeful excess, Super70s has a rabbit hole’s worth of images and stories that make the jewelry come alive.

Need even more retro inspo? Check out this deep dive into 70s jewellery trends for a colorful tour of the decade’s standout pieces.

The Disco Chain Thing (Yes, It Tangled)

My first 70s moment was a vintage 14k herringbone chain I found at a small shop. It lay flat and looked like liquid gold. It also flipped and kinked if I moved fast. I wore it with a plain white tee and wide jeans. Gorgeous. But I had to store it flat, or it creased. Hair snag? Sometimes. Worth it? For date night, yes.

I also tried a chunky zodiac medallion on a rope chain. Mine says “Cancer,” with a little crab. It’s heavy. It hits my collarbone with a tiny thud when I walk. That sound weirdly made me smile. Like a secret drum.

Small tip I learned the hard way: lotion first, necklace second. Or the chain turns dull fast.

Boho Stones That Feel Like Road Trips

The 70s loved natural stones—turquoise, tiger’s eye, malachite. Same. I wear a small turquoise ring with a sawtooth bezel by a Diné silversmith. I bought it from a gallery that lists the artist. It’s light, smooth, and still bright after years. It goes with everything, even sneakers.

I also tested a tiger’s eye pendant on brown leather. It’s got that silky swirly look. Warm, not flashy. My kid called it “the caramel rock,” which is dead right. It sits nice on the chest and doesn’t bounce around much.

One note: I borrowed a vintage squash blossom necklace for a weekend wedding. Beautiful. Also heavy. Like, shoulder-rolling heavy after an hour. I loved the photos. I did not love the neck ache. If you want that look for a long day, try a smaller naja pendant instead.

For a catalog of the decade’s most iconic stones and silhouettes, this guide to 70s jewellery trends breaks them all down with styling tips.

Puka Shells and Macramé: Beach Brain, City Life

I wore a white puka shell choker for a whole July. It felt soft and cool at first. But sunscreen turned the cord a bit yellow. I rinsed it in the sink. Fine again, but not bright white. With a linen shirt and sandals? A whole mood. With a blazer? Too “I got lost on the way to the pier.”

I also tested a macramé bracelet with wooden beads. It was light and earthy. It did catch on a knit sweater sleeve once. I heard the snag and froze like a statue. No harm done, but I learned: smooth clothes work best.

Big Cuffs, Big Names, Big Feelings

I wear a vintage silver cuff shaped like a bone form, from the 70s. It hugs the wrist. It’s bold but clean. I slide it on my left arm, where it fits better. It feels cool at first, then warm. I’ve worn it with a black turtleneck and with a tank. Both work. It does catch on open-weave knits. So I keep it far from crochet.

I also spent a month with a pre-owned Love bracelet. It’s sleek. It locks on. I liked the smooth oval fit, but sleeping in it bugged me. I felt it when I typed too. It looks chic, but it’s a commitment. If you fidget, think twice.

A friend let me try her nail bracelet for a day. It looked amazing in photos. The end pressed into my wrist when I rested my hand on the desk. A beauty, but not my everyday piece.

And the four-leaf clover pendant style from that era? I borrowed a small one from my aunt. Creamy motif, thin chain. It reads “quiet lucky.” Wore it to a coffee meeting. Two compliments in 10 minutes. That never hurts.

Signet Rings, ID Bracelets, and a Little Attitude

I thrifted a stainless ID bracelet that feels very 70s. It’s solid. It clinks on the desk when I write. The sound says “I mean business,” which I like on grumpy Mondays. But it ran big. I had a jeweler remove a link. Now it sits right and doesn’t spin.
Those subtle power accessories paired shockingly well with the flared trousers and printed shirts I tested when I wore 70s male attire for a week, proof that the jewelry and the clothes can vibe together without feeling like a costume.

I wear a small gold signet on my pinky too. Smooth face, no monogram yet. It’s a tiny power move. Not loud, just firm.

Plastic, Mood Rings, and Pure Fun

Let’s talk playful. I wore oversized lucite hoops in amber. They’re light and retro. They don’t pull my lobes down. I also tried a mood ring from a random mall shop. It shifted from blue to green when I made tea. Cute party trick. After washing dishes, it left a faint ring on my finger, so I take it off for water now.

One more: enamel flower pins on a denim jacket. I got two—orange and mustard. They scream 70s in the best way. They also scratch if you toss them in a bag. Keep a soft pouch handy.

What I’d Wear Again vs. What I’d Skip

  • Keep: flat gold chain, small turquoise ring, silver bone cuff, signet pinky ring
  • Keep sometimes: zodiac medallion, puka choker, enamel pins
  • Skip for daily wear: very heavy squash blossom, nail bracelet at a keyboard

How I Style It So It Doesn’t Fight My Clothes

Here’s the thing. One hero piece is enough. I pick one: big cuff or big chain, not both. I mix metals a little, but I repeat one tone so it looks calm. If I go boho with stones, I keep the outfit simple. Jeans. White shirt. Maybe clogs if I’m feeling it.

Storage matters. I lay herringbone chains flat. I use small anti-tarnish strips for silver. I wipe stones with a soft cloth after sweat. Shells get a quick rinse after beach days. Leather cords stay far from perfume.

If you buy Native pieces, buy from the artist or a trusted gallery. It’s respect and it lasts.

Final Thoughts (And a Tiny Confession)

I thought 70s style would feel like a costume. It didn’t. With the right piece, it felt warm, bold, and human. A little glam, a little road dust. You know what? That mix suits real life.

The decade’s flair for fearless display didn’t stop at fashion; it spilled straight into relationships and bedroom culture. If you’re curious about how that “show it off” energy evolved into a consensual kink, this primer on candaulisme unpacks the history, lays out clear consent checkpoints, and offers modern etiquette so you can explore or simply understand the practice safely. Similarly, that anything-goes attitude still pulses through San Francisco’s leather fairs and nightlife—if meeting adventurous locals during the festivities sounds tempting, a quick browse of Backpage Folsom puts curated classifieds, verified profiles, and up-to-the-minute event info right at your fingertips so you can dive in with confidence.

Will I keep wearing the herringbone? Yes, for nights out. The turquoise ring? Daily. The heavy showstoppers? Weddings, photos, good stories.
And if you’re shopping for someone who remembers these styles the first time around, I’ve rounded up gifts for boomers I actually gave—and they still use that balance nostalgia with everyday practicality.

If a piece makes you smile when it swings or shines, that’s your sign. Go simple on the outfit. Let the jewelry talk. And if your chain thunks your collarbone when you walk—well, that’s part of the charm.

I Tried Two 70s Trivia Games. Here’s What Actually Happened

I grew up on my mom’s ABBA records and my dad’s old movie quotes. So yeah, I’m that person who yells “1977!” before the question is even done. Last month, I brought two 70s trivia games to a family cookout: Talking Tables 70s Trivia and Ridley’s 70s Music Quiz. We had grilled corn, a sticky picnic table, and one loud uncle. Perfect test lab, right?

Let me explain what worked, what bugged me, and a few funny moments that still make me grin.

The Box That Got Everyone Talking: Talking Tables 70s Trivia

This one is simple. A neat little deck. Bright colors. No fussy board. You read a card, call your guess, and keep the ones you nail. We played teams because my aunt likes to whisper.
Fans who want to crank the mirror-ball vibe even higher can also check out Talking Tables’ Hit Replay Disco Dipsticks, a sister party game that swaps trivia for quick-fire disco challenges.

The topics are wide: movies, TV, sports, ads, fashion, and a little politics. Not heavy stuff. Think living room and popcorn, not homework.

Here are a few real examples we pulled (from memory, not exact wording):

  • “What year did the first Star Wars hit theaters?” (We shouted 1977 like a choir.)
  • “Who played Rocky Balboa?” (My cousin answered “Sylvester Stallone” with fake punches.)
  • “Which group sang Stayin’ Alive?” (Bee Gees. My mom did the little finger-point dance.)
  • “What car did Burt Reynolds drive in Smokey and the Bandit?” (Black Pontiac Trans Am. My dad clapped. Loud.)
  • “Which ad used the line ‘Choosy moms choose Jif’?” (Jif. My aunt rolled her eyes and grabbed chips.)
  • “What city is tied to Saturday Night Fever?” (Brooklyn. Bonus points for “dance floor.” We gave them anyway.)

I liked how fast it moved. You draw, you guess, you laugh. We played through a whole stack before the burgers even cooled.

What I Loved

  • Fast play. No one got bored waiting.
  • Good mix of easy and “oh wow” questions.
  • The card stock held up, even after my cousin dripped salsa on one. We wiped it off. No smears.

What Bugged Me

  • A few questions felt very U.S.-centric. My friend from Toronto said, “Well, okay then.”
  • Some cards got slightly repetitive. A lot of TV. Less world news.
  • No scoring rules in the box that fit our crew. We made house rules.

Tiny fix: we set a 10-point game. Steal allowed. If you didn’t grow up with vinyl, you got one lifeline per round. That kept Gen Z involved and happy.

The Spin-Off I Brought Too: Ridley’s 70s Music Quiz

Now this one is music only. It comes in a tidy box, like a little gift. The cards look cute. But the tone is sharper. A bit deeper for music nerds.
If that sounds up your alley, Ridley’s 1970s Music Trivia Game is the exact set we passed around the picnic table.

We got cards like:

  • “Which disco hit begins with that iconic ‘ah, ha, ha, ha’ riff?” (Stayin’ Alive again—people danced in their chairs.)
  • “Which Fleetwood Mac album features Dreams?” (Rumours. I said it fast. Then hummed it.)
  • “Who sang American Pie?” (Don McLean.)
  • “Which punk band released London Calling?” (Okay, 1979 album by The Clash. One cousin mixed it up with The Jam. We forgave him.)
  • “What singer did an epic live version of I Will Always Love You in 1974?” (Dolly Parton, folks.)

It’s great for a music night. But the clues can be tricky if your 70s knowledge stops at “ABBA good.”

What I Loved

  • Crisp music focus. Good for fans.
  • The questions feel fair but not baby easy.
  • Cute design that looks nice on a coffee table.

What Bugged Me

  • If your group likes TV and movies more, this set feels narrow.
  • A few song-title cards assume you know deep cuts. Some faces went blank.

We solved that with a quick house rule: hum a tune for one hint. It got silly fast, but it worked.

Small Detour: Our Best Surprise Moments

  • My quiet cousin knew the year of The Rumble in the Jungle (1974). He said it like a sports announcer. We cheered.
  • My aunt mixed up Mork & Mindy with Happy Days. Close! We still gave her half credit because Robin Williams made a cameo first.
  • My dad nailed “Jaws was 1975” and then pretended to swim under the table. He’s a grown man.
  • Somebody shouted out Jimmy “Superfly” Snuka when a question about jump-splash legends came up, sparking a quick debate that sent us down memory lane with 70s pro wrestlers.

You know what? Those little wins keep the game warm.

Who Should Buy What

  • For mixed groups and family nights: Talking Tables 70s Trivia. It’s broad and friendly.
  • For music lovers or people who argue over album liners: Ridley’s 70s Music Quiz.

If you’re hosting a 70s party, both together make a full night. For extra inspiration—or a quick crash course so your guests feel primed—browse the trove of decade-defining playlists and factoids at Super70s. Start wide, then slide into music. We did that, and no one even looked at their phone.

A Few Quick Tips That Helped Us

  • Keep teams small. Two or three per side. Everyone gets a turn.
  • Make gentle house rules: steals, one hint per round, or “sing it for a bonus.”
  • Toss in small prizes: a vinyl sticker, a tiny disco ball, or, like us, first pick of the last brownie. Want to sweeten the pot even more? Bring along some 70s candy that still slaps for an instant sugar-fueled bonus round.
  • Play the right soundtrack. We had a 70s mix: Bee Gees, Fleetwood Mac, Al Green, Queen. It set the mood without shouting over us.
  • Need to loop in friends who are miles away? Fire up a webcam so they can shout answers from their sofa—before you do, peek at Camster, a live-cam platform broken down in this Camster review to see how smooth streaming and private rooms work for casual hangouts, trivia nights, or just testing your mic. That rundown covers pricing, safety features, and interface quirks so you know what to expect.

Finally, when talk inevitably drifts to how people actually met up in the disco decade versus today’s swipe culture, you can point the group to Backpage Kyle—an eye-opening walk-through of how modern classified ads evolved and what lessons they offer social butterflies looking to make new connections right now.

Final Take

Both games passed the picnic test: fast, fun, and easy to teach. Talking Tables 70s Trivia is the crowd-pleaser. Ridley’s 70s Music Quiz hits deeper if your group loves songs and stories.

I’ll be real—some cards repeat themes, and a few clues feel very American TV. Still, the laughs win. Also, the salsa stains came off. So we’re calling that five stars for durability.

Next time, I’m bringing a Polaroid and a cheap glitter ball. Because why not?

I Wore 70s Beachwear For A Weekend—Here’s What Actually Works

I spent a sunny weekend testing real 70s beachwear and a few faithful remakes. Think bold stripes, belts on bikinis, crochet, and soft terry cloth. My mom kept old Polaroids, so I had a mood board right there on the fridge. Cute? Yes. Easy? Sometimes. Let me explain.
Before I even dug through thrift bins, I spent an evening scrolling the archives at Super70s.com for era-perfect inspiration—highly recommended. If you’d like the blow-by-blow of exactly what I packed, wore, and washed over those three salty days, my complete weekend diary has the full timeline and photos.

The Belted Bikini That Looks Like a Poster

I found a vintage Jantzen high-waist bikini, bright orange, with a tortoise-look ring and a skinny belt. It’s the exact “Baywatch auntie” vibe. I loved it. Then I moved.

  • The good: The high waist smoothed my middle. The belt gave shape. The top had sturdy cups and real stitching, not flimsy.
  • The weird: That ring gets hot. Like, don’t lie flat on a noon-day towel kind of hot. Also, the belt was cute but pinchy when wet. Does it photograph well? Very. Does it flex while bodyboarding? Not really.

Fit notes: Vintage Jantzen runs tight. I sized up one from my usual and still got a snug waist. The leg line is modest, which I liked for chasing a frisbee.

Care tip: Rinse right after the beach. Salt made the belt stiff till I soaked it.

Crochet Dreams, Wet Reality

I tried a She Made Me crochet halter with matching bottoms (natural cotton, tiny wood beads). It felt like music festival meets seaside. On sand, I felt like a 70s album cover. In water, it stretched a bit and took its sweet time to dry.

  • Lounge score: 10/10. Soft. Pretty. People asked about it nonstop.
  • Swim score: 5/10. Fine for a calm float. Not great for waves. Cotton gets heavy.

If you want that look but plan to swim, layer the crochet top over a plain nylon bikini. I wore a simple black Speedo two-piece under it and got the best of both worlds.

Terry Cloth Is My Secret Weapon

Hang Ten terry shorts (blue with the little feet logo) plus a matching zip hoodie? I could live in that set. It’s plush, it dries you fast, and it gives the right retro surf vibe without trying too hard.

  • The good: Warm after a dip. Pockets for keys and a chapstick. Washes well.
  • The not-so-good: Terry grabs sand. I shook those shorts like maracas.

I paired the set with a Seafolly one-piece that had rainbow side stripes and a low scoop back. The suit felt athletic, and the cut was clean. No tugging. I swam laps at the pier and ate a mango after. No fuss, just fun.

Shoes, Shades, and That Hat

Small things make it sing. I rotated these:

  • Dr. Scholl’s Original wooden sandals: Iconic clack. Cute with terry shorts. Not great on soft sand, though. I kept them for the boardwalk.
  • Salt Water Sandals (tan): Beach friendly. Rinse and they’re good as new. No slip drama.
  • Ray-Ban Round Metal sunglasses: Pure 70s. Light on the nose. Didn’t bounce while I walked.
  • San Diego Hat Company straw sun hat, wide brim: Shade for days. Stayed put with a simple scarf under my chin when the wind kicked up.

Side note: If you’re outfitting a guy for his own retro experiment, this candid report on wearing 70s male attire for a week maps out the surprises.

Also, yes, coconutty sunscreen smells like a memory. I used Coppertone Sport SPF 50 so I wouldn’t fry while fussing with belts and beads.

Fabric Talk, But Make It Simple

  • Nylon/lycra suits (Jantzen remake lines, Seafolly, Speedo): Stretchy, quick to dry, swim ready. Good for real movement.
  • Cotton crochet (She Made Me): Gorgeous texture; slow to dry. Treat it like a cover top, not a race suit.
  • Terry cloth (Hang Ten): Cozy. Great between swims. Just shake, shake, and shake again for sand.

One small note: Any hardware—rings, buckles, zips—heats up in direct sun. I learned that fast with the Jantzen belt.

Sizing and Fit Quirks

Vintage runs small. Like, “I swear I didn’t shrink” small. I measure first: bust, waist, hips. Then I compare to seller notes. For Jantzen and Catalina pieces I tried at my local vintage shop, I went one size up. For Seafolly, true to size worked. For crochet tops, I chose a snug fit so it wouldn’t droop when damp.

What I’d Wear Again Without Thinking

  • The Hang Ten terry set with the rainbow-stripe Seafolly one-piece. Easy, sporty, and happy.
  • The Jantzen belted bikini for a pool day with loungers, not for waves. You know what? It’s a look. I’ll keep it for photos and music days.

The full crochet set? I’ll keep the top as a cover. It shines with a simple black suit under it.

Tiny Things That Made A Big Difference

  • A cotton bandana: Kept hair in place and matched the whole retro mood.
  • A wide, striped beach towel: Thicker than my Turkish one; felt true to the era and comfier on pebbles.
  • Baby powder: Dust on ankles; sand slips right off. Old trick, still works.

Final Thoughts (With Sand Still In My Bag)

70s beachwear is joyful. It’s color, shape, and a bit of drama. Some pieces are more style than sport, sure. I didn’t mind. I want fun. I want stories. The belted bikini gave me one. The crochet set gave me two. The terry shorts? They gave me comfort. And that, somehow, felt the most “summer.”

If the swimwear nostalgia has you wondering about the wilder lounge-lizard side of the decade, someone actually spent an entire month with Playboy Playmates and wrote the whole roller-coaster down—worth a beach-chair read. For a modern, low-effort way to recreate those flirty beach-bar conversations—minus the sand—you can check out this guide to where to find free adult chat online, which rounds up reputable rooms and quick safety tips so you can dip a toe into digital banter before your next actual beach day.

If you’re cruising down the East Coast and want to trade that online banter for face-to-face sparks in a college-town setting, the campus-friendly listings on Backpage Blacksburg showcase local meet-ups, casual hangouts, and last-minute date ideas—perfect for turning retro vibes into real-time memories before the sun sets on your trip.

If you’re building a small 70s kit, start with:

  • One sturdy stripe suit for real swimming
  • One playful piece (belt or crochet) for charm
  • A terry layer you’ll throw on a hundred times

Music, mangoes, and a wide-brim hat help. So does a friend with a Polaroid.