online community focused on sharing and reminiscing about video, audio, and images that stir our memories of the past – old television, theme songs, commercials, print advertisements, the sights and sounds you remember
The idea was great: give Barbie a haircut, style her hair, curl it, and somehow keep the fun going without ruining the doll forever. Of course, commercials always made these toys look effortless. At home, I’m guessing it depended on patience, steady hands, and whether Barbie’s hair ended up looking salon-ready or like she had just lost a fight with a brush.
But here’s what I really want to know: Did you have Barbie Cut ’n Curl? Did it actually work the way the commercial showed?
And even better, did any of you start by cutting and styling Barbie’s hair and later end up becoming a hair stylist, barber, or working in cosmetology? Sometimes those childhood toys really did point us toward what we’d do later in life.
The Swing Wing was a wonderfully weird 1960s toy introduced by Transogram Games in 1965. It was worn on your head like a little cap, with a long ribbon or tail attached. The idea was to whip your head and neck back and forth until the tail spun around like a helicopter. Think Hula Hoop, but for your head.
The commercials made it look like pure kid fun: boys and girls swinging, twisting, dancing, and making the Swing Wing fly around them. But watching it now, you can almost hear every chiropractor in America screaming.
It was supposed to be Transogram’s answer to the Hula Hoop craze, with company hopes that it might become the next big toy sensation. It didn’t.
That’s probably why people remember it now more as a “what were they thinking?” toy than a classic. It had the perfect 1960s formula: bright colors, a catchy commercial, kids moving around like crazy, and absolutely no adult in the room asking, “Should children be violently snapping their necks for fun?”
Looking back, the Swing Wing is peak retro toy madness. Simple idea, great commercial, questionable safety, and the kind of thing that makes you wonder how any of us made it out of childhood with our heads still attached
It was great the first day you got the track, but the fun didn’t stop there. A new car didn’t cost all that much, even for a kid, and suddenly the whole race changed. One new car meant new matchups, new winners, new arguments, and another reason to reset the track and try again.
Hot Wheels were introduced by Mattel in 1968, created to compete with Matchbox, but they had a completely different attitude. Matchbox cars looked more like regular cars you’d see on the road. Hot Wheels looked like something a kid dreamed up: wild colors, big wheels, racing stripes, spoilers, flames, and hot rod styling. The first line is remembered as the “Original 16” or “Sweet 16.”
And they were fast. That was the magic. Mattel built them with low-friction wheels and axles, wider hard-plastic tires, and a suspension design that helped them fly down those orange plastic tracks smoother than other little cars of the time. The Strong National Museum of Play notes that Mattel engineers wanted them to “zoom,” using thick plastic mag wheels, minimal-friction axles, and torsion-bar suspension.
Then came the tracks. If you got a new setup, like the one with the Super Charger, it worked with the track you already had. That was the genius of it. You didn’t have to start over. You just added on. A curve here, a loop there, a launcher, a jump, and suddenly your living room floor became Daytona, Indy, and a demolition derby all at once.
Looking back, Hot Wheels were a great value because every piece made the whole thing better. One car could change the race. One track set could change the whole afternoon. And for a kid, that little orange track and one fast car were enough to make the whole room feel like a speedway.
Baby Secret was another one of those innocent-looking dolls until it talked, or worse, whispered. Back then, our breakfast cereal was promoted by clowns, our chaaawwwwclit milk was sold to us by a scary dummy, and somehow, nobody thought any of this was strange.
Mattel’s Baby Secret came out in the mid-1960s and looked sweet enough at first. She had a baby face, rooted hair, a soft body, and moving lips, but the big gimmick was the pull-string voice box. Unlike other talking dolls that spoke out loud, Baby Secret whispered her little phrases, like she was sharing something just with you. Cute idea in the daytime, maybe. At night in a dark bedroom? That’s a whole different story.
I know she was supposed to make kids feel like she was telling them a private little secret, but a whispering doll beside the bed sounds like the kind of thing today’s kids would need therapy for. We just called it Christmas morning.
Creepy puppets, talking dolls, ventriloquist dummies, clowns selling cereal, and commercials that got stuck in our heads for the next 50 years. Maybe we weren’t tougher back then, maybe we were just too busy watching cartoons to realize half our toys and commercials were nightmare fuel.
