Advertisement from the 1930's for Drene Shampoo
At the top of most people's list of best film memories must surely be the moment when Mrs. Van Hopper stubs her cigarette out in her jar of, as Daphne Du Maurier so coyly puts it, cold cream. Every woman knew instinctively what it was; the shop girls, Pond's Vanishing Cream, and the office girls, Yardley English Complexion Cream. And was the prospective new Mrs. de Winter really such a shy little thing that she did not charm Maxim with perhaps a little too much of a dab behind the ears of her unsuspecting Employers' Evening in Paris on the tennis courts? Did Celia Johnson really just visit the Chemists' Shop in the film, "Brief Encounter", just to buy a new toothbrush? Was it possible that she did, in fact, buy some Californian Poppy, or would it have been Attar of Roses, to splash generously on her hanky, and also to rather furtively stow away in her handbag a Tryst lipstick, before meeting up with Trevor Howard on Crewe Station? Who would deny that it could just have been true that Bette Davis was able to traverse the ship's decks so endlessly with Paul Henreid in "Now Voyager", because she had applied Zam Buck Foot Ointment that very same morning?
Today, all these subtle ruses of advertising products available from every Chemists, are only too plainly obvious in TV programmes, but for yesterday's 'teen agers and parents, most of the nudging to buy this or that item from the Chemist Shop, was achieved through films at the Cinema. Children, too, were not forgotten, when they knew only too well that the native Warrior's son, lying almost dying, would certainly be cured by the White captive's concoction or pills that they happened to have on them, and thus be freed.
It becomes immediately apparent to anyone taking a prescription to the chemists today, that the main concerns of the General Public seem to be, judging from the goods on display, either headaches or sore throats, coughs or colds. It is quite true to say that fashions occur in ailments as in other aspects of life. Yet 40 years ago, the key words were, "Build Yourself Up!". By this it was assumed the customer would need daily inner cleansing, plus large frequent spoons of Malt, or tablespoonsful of Scott's Emulsion, with a picture of a fisherman in Sou'Wester and Waders, holding up a very large cod, on the bottle. The ruby red bottles of Parrish's Chemical Food lined the fore front of the shelves in most Chemists, well away from the curious containers of substances with their names written on them in abbreviated Latin terms:- Boric, Casp, or Tass., and gracefully shaped vessels of queer coloured - well! - was it really only plain water? The fact is, the magic still firmly remains today, and even the smell of chemists, which so delighted Celia Johnson in "Brief Encounter", still remains.
Everyone knew, during the war, for instance, that Beecham's Pills were Worth A Guinea A Box, and who would not recall, on the way home on the 5.40 train, that Virol was the item to buy the next day the chemists opened, having seen the solemn promise on the tin advertisement on the Railway Station that it Builds Good Teeth And Bones, next to the enamelled splendour of the advertisement for Stephen's Blue Black Ink, with its significant splash??
To a greater extent in times gone by, the benefits of various remedies for minor medical conditions and beauty preparations, were suggested in the films, and then portrayed in magazines and newspapers. From there, they found their way into the Chemists' Shop. The film star image was the aim of most women, who bought Drene - The Shampoo of the Stars; Max Factor Rita Hayworth Pan Stik, and Coty Golden Glow Palm Beach face powder. There was quite an obsession with one's liver, too, and pills and salts, sparkling and otherwise, abounded, and so did various sparkling salts to aid rheumatism.
The men were also included in this constant pressure to buy. Razor Blades, Hair Oils and creams, Shaving Soaps, and, for the more daring among them, Shaving Foams and soaps with quite pungent odours, were the order of the day. Brylcreem finally surfaced as the most in demand, so much so that it actually became very scarce to obtain. It could not have been because of all those Airmen, supposedly snapping it up by the jar load. A quite normal sight in almost every dance hall in the country, were ranks of young men, their hair parted in the middle, and to upstage a phrase, well plastered down.
Gradually, however, television replaced the cinema, and the image of the star-struck teenager faded completely. They became more independent and less gullible to suggestions of advertisements. Their education improved, and this led them to being more discerning in their needs. They no longer swallowed whole the advice handed out by their parents, to follow this or that health regime, and so the contents of the Chemists shop went into a decline, from which it has, perhaps sadly, never recovered. "Street Cred" is now the 'in' thing, with trends in clothes and footwear replacing the various health remedies of yester year. Even those of us who are old enough to remember, view rather bemusedly the startling make-up styles of 40's films and when we see the smart packaging on today's Chemists' counters, would not really wish ourselves back in the bewildering array of lotions, ointments, elixirs, soothing balms, Carnation Corn Pads, with a picture of a tramp on every box, and other antidotes, for conditions, real or imagined. Even the District Nurse on her pedal bicycle has disappeared along with the rest, and we are left only with our fond recollections.
Rosemary Goulding
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