A very GROOVY Christmas: Aussie Celebrations 60s & 70s style

Slip on your stubbies, crank up the cassette player, and pour yourself a glass of warm Tang, because we’re about to time-travel back to an era when Christmas was simpler, sweatier, and arguably more fun.

If last year’s Merry Boomer Christmas got you all misty-eyed about tinsel and transistor radios, then get ready — this year we’re diving straight into the backyard pools and burnt turkeys of the 1960s and 1970s.

It was the age of lava lamps, Kingswoods, and the great Aussie backyard — and when Christmas Day came around, we did it our own way. No snow. No ugly jumpers. Just heat, ham, and the occasional cicada chorus.

So settle in — here’s what a very groovy Christmas looked like, back when bell bottoms were cool, and prawns were peeled by hand.

The toys we got (and loved)

Back before Santa had online ordering and next-day delivery, presents came with elbow grease and maybe a bit of rust.

In the 60s, Barbie made her Aussie debut, Tonka trucks were built like tanks, and every second kid unwrapped a hula hoop. Fast forward to the 70s, and Stretch Armstrong, Etch-a-Sketch, and Matchbox cars ruled the living room floor.

And if you were really lucky? A brand-new dragster bike with ape-hanger handlebars and banana seat, ready to tear up the cul-de-sac.

The feast (hot food on a hot day)

There was a time when we thought sweating through a roast turkey and plum pudding in 38° heat was just part of the tradition. Nanas soldiered on in the kitchen while Dads hovered near the beer fridge.

But change was brewing — by the 70s, seafood started sneaking onto the table (hello, prawns), and backyard BBQs with cold chook and pasta salad became the new Christmas normal.

Dessert? Pavlova, trifle, and mum’s “experimental” fruitcake that doubled as a doorstop.

The neighbourhood vibes

Everyone knew the neighbours — and by Boxing Day, you’d already eaten one of their rum balls.

Backyard cricket was non-negotiable. Slip-n-slides made from garbage bags and washing detergent were elite-level entertainment. And if your street had more than one house with lights on the roof, you were basically living in the Hollywood of the suburbs.

Tinsel was strung across every possible surface — including the dashboard of Dad’s Holden. And no one minded the heat. You just whacked on some zinc, thongs, and got on with it.

The TV (three channels and still nothing on)

Before Netflix, before even the VCR, we survived on a diet of Christmas Day re-runs, Bing Crosby specials, and the Queen’s Speech. The Magic Circle Club, Adventure Island, and later, Countdown and Young Talent Time gave us something to argue over once Monopoly got too heated.

And somehow, it was enough.

The fashion was… a choice

The 60s gave us beehives, petticoats, and floral dresses. The 70s turned the dial up to flares, crochet tops, and anything orange, brown, or avocado green.

Dads wore terry-towelling hats and socks with sandals. Mums were in kaftans, trying not to sweat off their Avon. And every kid had zinc on their nose and a weird haircut courtesy of the kitchen scissors.

Decorations & all that jazz

Remember the silver tinsel Christmas tree? Or the foil ceiling streamers that looked like fire hazards but really set the mood? Cotton wool snow on the windows… in the middle of an Aussie summer.

We made do — and made magic — with cardboard, glitter, and imagination.

Headlines & history

Some Christmases were unforgettable — for reasons we wish they weren’t. Harold Holt’s disappearance in ’67. Cyclone Tracy tearing through Darwin on Christmas Eve ’74. And yet, through it all, families gathered. We pressed on. We made memories — some funny, some painful, all deeply human.

And what did it all mean?

It wasn’t really about the toys (though the Matchbox car collection was legit). Or the feast. Or even the foil decorations.

It was about family and connection.

Piling into the car to visit Nan. Falling asleep on the couch mid-trifle. Mum and Dad working hard to give us the best they could.

This Christmas, as you crack open a cold one, listen to a bit of ABBA, and fall asleep in front of the telly — take a moment to remember those groovy, golden years.

Merry Christmas, legends! Here’s to making more memories.