Once upon a time, America was a cocktail party throwing nation.

I know because the wonderful world of movies and television tells me so. The vintage films and retro TV shows have not been digitally remastered to remove the images of highballs — at least not yet. Nor have they removed the tinkling of ice which underscored the lounge music, which underscored the conversation.

In this fairy tale land of long ago, there were specific locations — hot spots, if you will — in which one could not only drink (and smoke) but eat a bloody steak and enjoy live entertainment.

On your vintage maps of Forever-Ago America, these spots would be seen as Supper Clubs.

Supper Clubs were fabulous places where the ladies dressed-up and smelled of pretty perfume. The men dressed grand too. As did the children who were lucky enough to attend such an evening meal.

Don’t be shocked, long-ago and far-away in this land, children were allowed in bars, taverns and supper clubs as long as their parents or other adult family members were in attendance.

I know, I was lucky enough to be there.

One of the greatest thrills of going to a supper club was being allowed to play dress-up. More than playing dress-up, really, you were playing grown-up — and the supper club helped.

They gave you kiddie cocktails, in a highball glass, on the rocks, complete with a nifty garnish and a take home souvenir. It might be a paper parasol, or a plastic sword with fruit skewered on it, or, and these were my personal favorites, plastic monkeys which hung off the side of the glass.

Adults got souvenirs too. They were called swizzle sticks. Some were just plastic sticks, others had fancy decorations. All were stamped with either the name of the Supper Club or a maker of the booze used in the drink.

Unlike the boring sani-straws you get in a bar today, swizzle sticks were nifty. You sure could tell how fancy a place was by their swizzle sticks. Plain plastic with just the liquor company was for the lower-rent places, a step up were the fancy offerings from the liquor company, and a step up from those were the plain sticks with the joint’s name on them. But the holy grail of swizzle sticks were the fancy sticks, one of a kind really, with the club’s own unique design and logo.

Swizzle sticks were such a cool thing, folks even had them in their homes — and not the recycled ones taken home as souvenirs, but folks went out and bought plastic and even glass sets of swizzle sticks so that they could properly serve their guests. Containers of swizzle sticks were on every good host and hostess’ bar, along with a proper cocktail shaker, and ice bucket and proper ice serving tongs. I know, because I’ve seen them. (Don’t worry mom and dad, I won’t tell them about your parties!)

Because we didn’t know much about safety, we left the Supper Clubs and parties and drove home — not only drove drunk but sans seatbelts too.

In fact, we transported drunk or at least with a drink in hand as a general rule. We flew drunk, boated drunk, and before those wonders we rode trains and horse-drawn carriages drunk.

And when we traveled, we traveled with companies (and stayed at fine hotels and motels) which had swizzle sticks of their own.

Alcohol was ‘everywhere.’

Even if you weren’t around to visit the Supper Clubs, attend the swank parties, or fly the not-so-sober-skies of yesteryear, you can still see evidence of Alcohol America in vintage advertising.

Forget all about medicines and snakeoils with alcohol in them, just look at the ads recommending liquor for the consumer who — well, who lived.

We romanced women, wooed African Americans, and we even preached that drinking alcohol was good for baby.

(But hey, why shouldn’t beer be good for baby if smoking is?)

Back then, we may have been utterly ignorant regarding alcohol consumption, but it sure makes for fabulous collecting.

The most vivid memories of Halloween are of trick or treating and the costumes we wore.

For those of us growing up in the 60s, 70s and upwards, our costumes often were little more than advertising for television shows and movies. These costumes were simple: A plastic mask with eye cut-outs, two hole punches for nostrils and a slit for the mouth-breathers; and a shift of vinyl &/or flame retardant fabric with the film or TV show’s name printed on the front which we were to wear over our clothes. (God willing, in the colder climates of the midwest it fit over our coats too.)

These costumes may be responsible for the dumbing down of Americans because they required no imagination. Neither by the kids who wore them or the adults at the doors who handed out the candy. Even the coolest of old people could tell one Sweat Hog from another when you had Barbarino written across your vinyl chest. But I digress.

If it made a screen, a costume was made and we Americans raced to stores to buy them. Now we race to auctions and auction sites to buy them. Folks want to buy back their warm and fuzzy memories by getting back ‘their’ childhood costume. Or, if they were, say, stuck being Kate Jackson instead of Farrah Fawcett, they finally get the costume they really wanted to wear.

These retro costumes have what is called in the biz “high crossover appeal” meaning that along with the Halloween collectors you’ll have the entertainment collectors bidding.

This makes vintage and retro Halloween costumes very popular.

But these aren’t the only costumes to buy; nor is buying the costumes themselves the only way to collect Halloween memories.

Many collectors turn to photographs of Halloween trick or treaters to get their costumes. Not only are they easier to store, but many of these photos show imaginative costumes that pre-date or for-go the mass-produced mass media corporate costumes.

There’s also something strangely sweet about looking into what you can see of the faces of trick or treaters past.

We recognize not only the fun of dress-up and the anticipation of free candy, but the freedom silliness brings.

Even if we have to guess what they are…

Maybe because we have to guess what they are.

And it’s not just for the kids — adults join in at Halloween too.

Of course, some of these crossdressing photos have their own crossover appeal as well. *wink*

But then I didn’t say collecting vintage Halloween costumes or photographs of them would be cheap; I said it would be fun. And silly.

Let’s not forget silly.

I personally prefer the photos to the costumes.

I can fit a whole lot more of them into the house. And I love to rescue those antique and vintage photographs.

But then this last photo is of me in the Halloween of ‘69 — and if I had the chance to buy this costume ‘back’, I surely would.