In high school, we experimented with a mixture of baby oil and iodine. It burned in a cut and greased us up.
I never tanned. I burned, then peeled and lastly freckles appeared. This was my ritual. At the end of summer, the only tan I sported was under my watch, but you had to look closely.
Before hitting the beach with friends, my sister and I would go out the second floor bathroom window and step onto a black tarred, flat roof.
It was 200 degrees, but sitting on a beach lounger with cold cokes and a transistor radio made the experience better.
We ran an extension cord from the bathroom to two large box fans. It was much better baking with a breeze.
I tried all the tanning lotions. Some smelled like banana or coconut oil. Sadly, I found out that I was allergic to coco butter. I broke out in prickly hives everywhere, while getting sunburn. I itched and hurt at the same time.
My favorite lotion was Coppertone. It came in a brown squeeze bottle with a dog pulling down a child’s bathing trunks. I wonder if the bottle changed.
I smelled great but I didn’t tan. Go figure, I was baking in a large solar oven but never looked like a Thanksgiving turkey.