I mean, what happened to studying Plato, right?

In 1958 LIFE magazine was early to the party with its story about a class being offered at Smith College, the highly respected all-female school in Northampton, Massachusetts. The headline: “College Class in Luggage Lifting.”

That headline, like many of today’s online lists, was meant to provoke a reaction. Smith College wasn’t exactly offering a full-blown course in the proper way to lift a bag, but luggage handling was a real addition of the college’s physical education curriculum.

The LIFE story explained why Smith was suddenly concerned about its students handling luggage the right way:

For years Smith’s physical education department has been teaching posture to its freshman. But when redcap porter service was cut back at the nearby railway stations, the college found that the girls were displaying un-Smithlike sags and sways as they struggled with their suitcases. To preserve both appearances and backs, the college added baggage handling to the course.

Perhaps the most interest aspect of this story, viewed all these years later, is the idea of what “un-Smithlike” behavior constituted in the 1950s. The course also created an irresistible photo opportunity that LIFE sent staff photographer Yale Joel to capitalize on. He took photos in both the gym class itself, and of students applying their knowledge in an out-of-use car of the Boston and Maine Railroad.

The conclusion of the LIFE story is very much of its time, which was a decade before the women’s liberation movement began to hit its stride. One freshman dismissed the need for a baggage-handling course by saying, “A girl who tries can almost always find some man to help her with her luggage.”

Assistant professor Anne Delano led a class on physical education that included instruction on handling luggage, with the motto “Use Your Head and Save Your Back” written out on a chalkboard, 1958.

Yale Joel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Improving back flexibility was part of the physical education program at Smith College designed to make students better able to handle their own luggage, 1958.

Yale Joel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Smith College college practiced the proper method for lifting luggage with bags that contained 12-pound weights, 1958.

Yale Joel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Smith College college practiced the proper method for lifting luggage with bags that contained 12-pound weights, 1958.

Yale Joel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Smith College students posed for a photo for a story about them being taught the best way to handle a suitcase, 1958.

Yale Joel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Undergraduates at Smith College practiced the proper method for handling luggage, a skill they were taught as part of the school’s physical education program, 1958.

Yale Joel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Smith College girls received instruction in the proper way to handle suitcases after redcap service was removed from local train stations, 1958.

Yale Joel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Smith College girls received instruction in the proper way to handle suitcases after redcap service was removed from local train stations, 1958.

Yale Joel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

The post The Strangest College Class Ever appeared first on LIFE.

The film was 1961’s Last Year at Marienbad, directed by Alian Resnais, and its narrative, such it was, centered around a nameless man and woman at a luxury hotel who may or may not have a past together. The film is polarizing enough that it merited both a Criterion Collection edition and also inclusion in a book about the 50 worst films ever. The Criterion Collection edition, even while exalting Last Year at Marienbad, describes the film as a “fever dream” whose plot “has been puzzling appreciative viewers for decades.”

But even if fans didn’t know what the movie meant, they knew that it was stylish (the costumes were done by Coco Chanel), and many women wanted to mimic the hairstyle of lead actress Delphine Seyrig. Here’s what LIFE had to say about the trend in its issue of June 22, 1962.

Not since Veronica Lake’s pageboy bob completely hid one eye from view has a movie hairdo caused such a stir…Cut short and straight with back ends pushed forward under ears and a deep diagonal bang on the forehead, the Marienbad hairdo looks sleek and sophisticated, but appealingly artless at the same time.

Modeling the hot new look for LIFE was none other than socialite and future fashion icon Gloria Vanderbilt. The hairstyle had initially taken off in Europe, and LIFE wrote that Vanderbilt was the first New Yorker to adopt the Marienbad look, “after persuading hairdresser Kenneth to go to the film to study it.”

LIFE staff photographer Paul Schutzer ALSO seems to have also studied the film; the setups for his Vanderbilt photo shoot echo locations from the movie.

And while the film is difficult to understand, the hairstyle was appealingly simple to maintain. Vanderbilt said that while the style requires frequent cutting, in between it could be kept in place “merely by running a comb through it.” The story concluded that “women of all ages, types and places have begun to demand the short cut, glad of a fashionable excuse to give up overly teased bouffant hair for a comfortable, easy-to-keep summer style.”

Socialite Gloria Vanderbilt modeled a new hairdo inspired by the 1961 film Last Year at Marienbad.

Paul Schutzer/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Socialite Gloria Vanderbilt modeled a new hairdo inspired by the 1961 film Last Year at Marienbad.

Paul Schutzer/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Socialite Gloria Vanderbilt modeled a new hairdo inspired by the 1961 film Last Year at Marienbad.

Paul Schutzer/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Socialite Gloria Vanderbilt modeled a new hairdo inspired by the 1961 film Last Year at Marienbad.

Paul Schutzer/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Socialite Gloria Vanderbilt modeled a new hairdo inspired by the 1961 film Last Year at Marienbad.

Paul Schutzer/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Socialite Gloria Vanderbilt modeled a new hairdo inspired by the 1961 film Last Year at Marienbad.

Paul Schutzer/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Socialite Gloria Vanderbilt modeled a new hairdo inspired by the 1961 film Last Year at Marienbad.

Paul Schutzer/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Socialite Gloria Vanderbilt modeled a new hairdo inspired by the 1961 film Last Year at Marienbad.

Paul Schutzer/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Socialite Gloria Vanderbilt modeled a new hairdo inspired by the 1961 film Last Year at Marienbad.

Paul Schutzer/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Socialite Gloria Vanderbilt modeled a new hairdo inspired by the 1961 film Last Year at Marienbad.

Paul Schutzer/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Socialite Gloria Vanderbilt modeled a new hairdo inspired by the 1961 film Last Year at Marienbad.

Paul Schutzer/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Socialite Gloria Vanderbilt modeled a new hairdo inspired by the 1961 film Last Year at Marienbad.

Paul Schutzer/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Socialite Gloria Vanderbilt modeled a new hairdo inspired by the 1961 film Last Year at Marienbad.

Paul Schutzer/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Socialite Gloria Vanderbilt modeled a new hairdo inspired by the 1961 film Last Year at Marienbad.

Paul Schutzer/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

The post The Marienbad Cut: Gloria Vanderbilt Models A French Movie Hairdo appeared first on LIFE.

Another one of the “experiments” in the issue featured Joy and Stan Potts, a couple who had what the magazine termed a “frontier partnership.”

Here’s how that partnership worked, as described by LIFE:

For three months each year they disappear into the Idaho Primitive Area where, as a team, they operate a commercial hunting camp. To do this they leave behind their three girls, ages 11, 12 and 17, who willingly—and successfully—remain entirely on their own at the alfalfa ranch the Pottses run in Nevada during the rest of the year.

Joy Potts said leaving the children on their own for so long benefited the kids as well as the parents. The kids, she said, learned to be independent. And running the camp together with her husband was good for their relationship. “Marriages get down in the dumps because people sort of ignore each other,” Joy told LIFE. “I know I am an important person to Stan.”

As for Stan, he told LIFE that the key to a happy marriage was sharing in everything—including the inevitable failures. “Then you know how it all works, that it’s not any one person’s fault,” he said. He added that if he were running the camp on his own, “It would be a lot more lonely and a lot harder without Joy, that’s for sure.”

The story was photographed by John Dominis, and he visited the Potts’ camp during Thanksgiving, when their daughters had come to visit. Their holiday dinner, which also included the hunters at the camp, looks as welcoming as it was rustic.

The Potts’ “frontier partnership” was an enduring one. In 2021 Stan and Joy were recognized by the Hall of Fame of the Idaho Outfitters and Guides Association, Salmon River Chapter. Later that same year Joy died at age 87, survived by her husband of 67 years. Her obituary included a delightful detail on how Joy and Stan first met, while she was Mackay, Idaho visiting family: “During that first conversation, she told him she milked cows, and he was hooked.” 

Joy and Stan Potts shared a light moment during Thanksgiving dinner at the hunting camp they ran in Idaho, 1972.

John Dominis/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Joy and Stan Potts leave their alfalfa farm and children three months a year to brave the frontier wilderness in Idaho. Here they and their daughters, on the left side of the table, enjoy a Thanksgiving feast, joined by hunters at the camp, 1972.

John Dominis/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Joy and Stan Potts would leave their alfalfa farm and children three months a year to run an Idaho hunting camp. Here Joy (second from right) handed out sandwiches to a hunting party before they set out, 1972.

John Dominis/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Joy Potts carried water from a stream to use for cooking and cleaning at the Idaho hunting camp that she and her husband ran, 1972.

John Dominis/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Joy Potts took a bath in water heated from a stove at the Idaho hunting camp that she and her husband Stan ran, 1972.

John Dominis/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Stan Potts chopped firewood at the hunting camp run by him and his wife Joy, 1972.

John Dominis/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Joy and Stan Potts, 1972.

John Dominis/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Joy and Stan Potts would leave their three daughters, ages 11, 12 and 17, at the family alfalfa farm for months at a time while they went off to run their hunting camp.

John Dominis/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

The post A Joyful Thanksgiving and a “Marriage Experiment” appeared first on LIFE.

But the concept of a day spa was just coming into being when LIFE magazine devoted several pages in its June 4, 1952 issue to a new business called Pamper House, which was located at 5th avenue and 48th street in Manhattan.

These were the rules of the Pamper House, as described in LIFE’s story:

At this unique club, in which a yearly membership costs $1, members can take a shower, wash their hair, give themselves a manicure or a home permanent, freshen their make-up, change their clothes or just drop in to read or watch television in the modern lounge, or to rest in the quiet alcove. Each visit to Pamper House costs 25¢. A dime is the fee for almost every service or item. Five trained beauticians are on hand to give free advice about hair styling and make-up, and to help customers help themselves.

LIFE staff photographer Nina Leen documented what went on at the Pamper House. Perhaps the most interesting novelty there was a perfume vending machine in which women could pay a dime for a spritz of Chanel No. 5.

To the modern eye Pamper House looks like the first draft of a concept that has since been much refined over the years. There is plenty to recommend it, starting with the basic idea of a private enclave for women to have their needs attended to. It’s easy to envy the women who stop by for a nap after lunch. But what stands out about the Pamper House is how much members had to do for themselves. One photograph shows a member doing her own nails, with no manicurist in sight. In another photo a woman irons her own blouse—she basically looks like she’s doing housework. A modern version of Pamper House would have a lot more pampering.

Pamper House was founded by Tanya Pitt, a former French model. LIFE reported that the business at Pamper House was brisk, and that she had plans to add locations both around New York and across the country.

But that doesn’t seem to have happened. Internet searches for Ms. Pitt or Pamper House yield little more than reports about the launch of her venture, which happened to be located just a couple blocks from the old Time-Life Building and many other media outlets.

Even if Pamper House didn’t become a lasting brand, the basic impulse behind the venture was right on. We were on our way to a world where “treat yo self” has become a catch phrase. America is now home to more than 20,000 spas. In short, there are descendants of Pamper House all across the country.

Members of the Pamper House in midtown Manhattan applied cosmetics in the club’s make-up nooks, 1952.

Nina Leen/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

At the Pamper House in New York, some women stopped by for a quick nap after lunch, 1952.

Nina Leen/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Women relaxed at Pamper House, a midtown Manhattan club that catered to working women and suburban housewives, 1952.

Nina Leen/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

This vending machine at the Pamper House in midtown Manhattan dispensed perfume at a nickel per spray, 1952.

Nina Leen/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Using the hair dryers at Pamper House in New York City cost ten cents for fifteen minutes, 1952.

Nina Leen/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Members of the Pamper House in midtown Manhattan paid ten cents to use the shower, plus another ten cents if they needed a towel, 1952.

Nina Leen/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A member of the Pamper House in Rockefeller Center, NYC, got her hair done by one of the staff beauticians, 1952.

Nina Leen/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Members of the Pamper House in midtown Manhattan enjoyed a snack while their hair was setting, 1952.

Nina Leen/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Two members of the Pamper House in Rockefeller Center in New York enjoyed a conversation, 1952.

Nina Leen/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A member of the Pamper House in Rockefeller Center in New York stopped by to iron her own blouse, 1952.

Nina Leen/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A member of the Pamper House in Rockefeller Center, NYC, gave herself a manicure, 1952.

Nina Leen/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A member of the Pamper House in Rockefeller Center, NYC, washed her hair in the shampoo booth, 1952.

Nina Leen/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Using the lockers at Pamper House in New York City cost ten cents a day, 1952.

Nina Leen/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Tanya Pitt, a French former model, was the founder of the Pamper House in midtown Manhattan, 1952.

Nina Leen/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

The post Pamper House: America As It Was Learning to Treat Itself appeared first on LIFE.

In 1950, eight years before Alaska officially joined the union, LIFE took its readers to the what was then America’s northernmost territory—a chilly and remote part of Minnesota known as Northwest Angle. This patch of land seems like it should really be part of Canada—it does connect with the rest of The Gopher State by land and has physical borders with Manitoba and Ontario. Northwest Angle is only part of the U.S. because people got confused while the details of the U.S.-Canada border were being negotiated.

If you’ve never heard of the Northwest Angle, you’re not alone. LIFE began its 1950 story by explaining just what this place was, and what life was like there:

Jutting out like a tiny bell tower at the top of Minnesota is a strip of woodland-and-lake wilderness called the Northwest Angle. … Its inhabitants, cut off from the rest of the U.S. by the 1,500-square mile Lake of the Woods, are an isolated, frontier people. For a brief period during the summer they live in a paradise of thick green forests and deep blue lakes. They hunt, fish, eat wild berries and trap for lynx. But when the long winter sets in, they live in an inhospitable land which is more like Siberia than the U.S. Blizzards roar down out of the North. The temperature drops to 50 degrees below zero, cold enough to split the logs of a cabin. Even on warmer days it seldom gets to more than 20 below zero.

In 1950 this isolated piece of America was out there in more ways than one. “The Angle has no telephones, roads, telegraph, movies, churches or doctors,” LIFE wrote. “The log homes have neither running water nor plumbing. The main meat dish is venison.”

The frontier aspects of the Northwest Angle were a large part of its appeal to residents, most of whom were living there by choice. They had vacationed there during the summer and fallen in love with the place.

The photos by George Silk capture the unique way of life in Northwest Angle. Women made their own butter in hand-cranked churns, and gathered for quilting bees for amusement. Residents traveled in horse-drawn sleighs to collect firewood. Kids amused themselves by playing tag in the deep snow. One man described as a “hermit” spent his winters reading the Congressional Record.

The winters drove most residents indoors. The attitude of the locals, LIFE wrote, was “They don’t particularly like the winters, but they don’t dislike them either.”

The reward for enduring the winter, as they saw it, came when the snow thawed, the geese returned, and the Northwest Angle became an outdoor paradise. LIFE wrote, “Then the citizens of the Angle tell each other that there is no other place on earth where they could enjoy so good a life at so little cost.”

Men cross a frozen lake in a horse-drawn sleigh while on a firewood-gathering expedition. Because the Northwest Angle has no roads, gathering firewood can actually be easier when the lake is frozen..

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Twelve-year old David Colson of Northwest Angle, Minnesota, photographed after walking home two miles from school, 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Two boys and a girl hid up to their necks in a snowdrift, nibbling at the snow.while playing a game of tag in Northwest Angle, Minnesota, 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Scenes of wintertime in remote Northwest Angle, Minnesota, 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Twevle-year-old David Colson rode a cow to get water from a hole drilled through ice in the lake in Northwest Angle, Minn., 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Mrs. Joe Risser of Northwest Angle, Minn., carried in wash that had frozen on the line, 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Mrs. Edison Risser used a hand-operated butter-making machine like virtually every other family did in Northwest Angle, Minnesota, 1950.

George Silk/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Postmaster Jake Colson ran the smallest post office in the U.S in a six-by-four-foot corner of Northwest Angle’s general store; only twelve homes received mail up there.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Eli Olson, a reclusive trapper and 34-year resident of Northwest Angle, Minnesota, liked to read the Congressional Record during the winter, 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A women carefully wove a rug during the extremely cold winter months in Northwest Angle, Minnesota, 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Grandfather Oscar Risser whittled while his grandchildren watched during a long winter in Northwest Angle, Minnesota, 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Kids in Northwest Angle, Minnesota, generally took baths once a week, on Saturdays, during the winter.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Quilting bees like this one were a popular winter pastime in Northwest Angle, MInnesota, 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A winter quilting bee in Northwest Angle, Minnesota including a break for a two-hour lunch that featured chicken, baked beans, canned vegetables and pie, 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Newlyweds Sid and Skippy Hanson, ages 23 and 19, struggled to keep their cabin warm enough over the winter in Northwest Angle, Minnesota, 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Two Canadians braved the wind and snow to come into Northwest Angle, Minnesota, to buy provisions, 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A dog made its way through three-and-a-half feet of snow In Northwest Angle, Minnesota, 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A lone lighthouse sat amid a stark frozen landscape during winter in Northwest Angle, Minnesota, 1950.

George Silk/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

The post Wild and Frozen: Minnesota at Its Coldest and Most Remote appeared first on LIFE.

And it was quite a scene: “The audience gasped, applauded and made mental notes of $200 costumes and $2,000 fur coats which would soon be bought to complete a winter wardrobe,” LIFE said. When assessing those prices, keep in mind that one dollar in 1939 is the equivalent of about $23 in 2024.

The customers might not have been daunted by those prices because they came to Neiman Marcus with oil money in their pockets, and also a dose of Lone Star pride. LIFE wrote that the wealthy shoppers of Texas ‘”spurn the labels of the great New York houses. Patriotically they prefer to flaunt the label of their great local store.”

LIFE assigned legendary photographer Alfred Eisenstadt to the Neiman Marcus show. While he did shoot the main event, he made more memorable images when he took models away from the runway and onto the streets of Dallas. A woman modeling a Hattie Carnegie dress in the parking lot of the Pig ‘n Whistle makes the point that these models are definitely not in Paris.

A model walked the runway during a fashion show in Dallas showcasing the fall lines at the Neiman Marcus department store, 1939

Alfred Eisenstaedt/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A woman modeled a dress by designer Hattie Carnegie, Texas, 1939.

Alfred Eisenstaedt/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A woman modeled a dress by designer Hattie Carnegie, Texas, 1939.

Alfred Eisenstaedt/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A woman modeled clothes by Hattie Carnegie in Texas, 1939.

Alfred Eisenstaedt/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A woman modeled clothes by fashion designer Hattie Carnegie in Dallas, October 1939.

Alfred Eisenstaedt/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A woman modeled for a story at the new lines available at the Neiman Marcus department store in Dallas, 1939.

Alfred Eisenstaedt/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A woman modeled sheared beaver mantelet and muff, Dallas, October 1939.

Alfred Eisenstaedt/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A model wore a Russian ermine mantelet trimmed in ermine tails with muff, Dallas, Texas, October 1939.

Alfred Eisenstaedt/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Woman wearing a suit and plaid trouser on sale at Neiman Marcus in Dallas, Texas, October 1939

Alfred Eisenstaedt/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A model wore an elegant gown that was on sale at Neiman Marcus in Dallas, 1939.

Alfred Eisenstaedt/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Model wearing sable fur coat with feathered fur hat by designer John Frederics, 1939.

Alfred Eisenstaedt/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Model wearing Persian lamb hat, for sale at Neiman Marcus for $55 in 1939.

Alfred Eisenstaedt/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A model wore a sweater and trousers on sale at Neiman Marcus, Texas, 1939.

Alfred Eisenstaedt/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A woman modeled harem-hemlined gown at Neiman Marcus in Dallas, Texas, October 1939.

Alfred Eisenstaedt/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A woman modeled lounging pajamas featuring peg-top trousers like jodpurs for sale at Neiman Marcus for $89.50 in 1939.

Alfred Eisenstaedt/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A model wore a $27.75 velvet turban with striped cloth handbag that was for sale at Neiman Marcus store in Dallas, 1939.

Alfred Eisenstaedt/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

The wall plaque outside the original Neiman-Marcus store in Dallas, 1939.

Alfred Eisenstaedt/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

The post A Lone Star Fashion Show, 1939 appeared first on LIFE.