Nothing screams "mid-century glamour" quite like smearing medicated camphor-scented paste on your face while maintaining a smile that says, "I have absolutely no idea what is in this jar, but I love it." There is a delightful cognitive dissonance in 1950s advertising where looking like you just lost a fight with a meringue pie is the pinnacle of beauty care. I am particularly fascinated by the promise that this cream is "greaseless" despite looking visibly like industrial lubricant.
















