Other things,though,have certainly disappeared. When I was on the cash register,there was one order so common I never needed to add up the three prices. It was a copy of Sydney’sThe Daily Mirror,a serve of Vincent’s powders,and a packet of Winfield Blue cigarettes. That third item was advertised by Paul Hogan with the slogan “Anyhow,have a Winfield”,to which he should have added “Anyhow,it will probably give you cancer”.
After selecting the required brand of cigarette from the vending stacks above where I was standing – they stretched the whole length of the counter,offering maybe 40 brands – I’d announce,“That will be $2.74”,or something like that,I can’t quite remember. But I never had to add it up. Next customer? Same order,same price.
In the years following,Vincent’s was banned,alongside its competitor Bex,due to a side-hustle of killing people. ThenThe Mirror went bust,alongside its competitorThe Sun. And people stopped buying so many cigarettes,on account that you could no longer buy a pack for $2.74,and still have a newspaper and headache powder thrown in.
The other thing that disappeared,well almost,was the printed pornographic magazine. In retrospect,its reign was short-lived – the three decades between the dismantling of strict censorship in early 1970s Australia and the wave of digital filth unleashed by internet in the late 1990s. During this period,most newsagencies – including my father’s – owed much of their profits to what were euphemistically called “top shelf magazines”,even though they were normally on brazen display. To the extent I had a privileged adolescence (we had a pool!),I’m embarrassed to admit I owe it all toPenthouse,Hustler andEscort.
I have one more example of a product that has mostly disappeared:the “partwork”. When I worked for my dad,our customers were big fans of what were really reference books,but delivered in weekly or monthly instalments. In a way,it was the opposite of all that pornography. This was about self-improvement. For a couple of dollars,and then a bit extra for the “folders” or “binders”,you could build up what was essentially an encyclopedia about World War Two,or Classical Music (by the ’80s,a free CD with every copy),or the Amazing World of Nature.
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It’s true that most of my adolescence was spent selling overpriced birthday cards,cigarettes,and frankly appalling pornography,but I take pleasure in this one thing:the partworks. I’m pretty sure the last five heads of the Canberra public service owe much of their knowledge to me,and the partworks I sold their parents. All in our family business.
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