Here in Seattle, the home of Sin in Linen, we have constant reminders of the early 1960's right in our skyline.
The 1962 World’s Fair was hosted by Seattle, which not only brought us the Monorail that glides through our city, but the Space Needle. Mid-century modern décor was at its height of style and the World’s Fair was seen as a prime opportunity to show the rest of the world the cutting-edge living that Americans could enjoy. And since the Seattle World’s Fair arrived during the heart of the Cold War, we were also eager to display our scientific achievements.
But with great scientific growth also came substantial scientific fears, with the knowledge of possible nuclear warfare looming at the back of everyone’s minds. In the 1961 September issue of LIFE Magazine, President JFK wrote a letter to the public advising people to get fallout shelters. Now, the mothers of America not only had to consider what to feed their family at the end of the day, but what to feed their family at the possible end of all days. It was an era full of explosive energy.
Teenagers were learning to gyrate their hips like Elvis, milkshakes were being shared with two straws, and drive-in movie theaters created a new use of a Chevy’s backseat. Ice clinked in glasses as people stirred up new cocktails and embraced being alive.
To get in the Atomic mood, try this sizzling cocktail wearing an Atomic Dreams Apron. To quote the song “Atomic Cocktail,” When you take one sip you won’t need anymore.
Atomic Cocktail from Esquire
1 ½ ounces Vodka
1 ½ ounces Brandy
1 Tsp Sherry
1 ½ ounces Brut Champagne
Mix the Vodka, Sherry, and Brandy over crushed ice. Stir. Strain into a cocktail glass and add chilled Brut Champagne. Place the glass atop a Atomic Dream tablecloth for an added pop of color.
Today’s Fresh Fantasy
A siren wails loudly in the sky and you know it means one of two things: this is just a drill or your life is in real danger. Caught in the kitchen, midway through baking a dripping cherry pie, you decide to drop everything and rush into the backyard where your fallout shelter awaits. As the heavy door clangs behind you, you pause to catch your breath. Just then, you sense you are not alone. There, sitting on the cot in the corner, is the next door neighbor’s pool boy. Throughout the summer you’d tried not to stare at his broad, tan, shoulders as he works next door, but as he sits shirtless before you it’s impossible not to notice. Sweat glistens against his skin. As he cracks a smile in your direction the siren echoes loudly outside. “I like your apron,” he says while slowly standing. “But I’d like it even more if you were wearing only that apron.”