The 1970s were a bold, loud decade—filled with innovative fashion, daring ideas, and some of the strangest products ever to hit the shelves. From cars that could explode to shampoo you might mistake for a snack, not everything was a success. Ever wonder what went hilariously wrong? Let’s rewind and uncover the most unforgettable failures of the ’70s.

Take the Bell Picturephone. In the 1960s, Bell Telephone (now AT&T) had big dreams for the future of communication. At the 1964 World’s Fair, they unveiled the Picturephone Mod 1—a prototype that let you see the person you were talking to, straight out of sci-fi. A few were used during that decade, giving people a glimpse of video calls. By 1970, Bell launched the first commercial version. But here’s the catch: it cost a staggering $160 per month—over $1,200 in today’s money—before per-minute call charges. And it was designed for one-on-one conversations only. No group chats or conference calls. They tried again with Model 2, targeting businesses in the ’80s, and in 1992 introduced the VideoPhone 2000 for homes. None caught on. Ironically, in 2019, two Model 2 units sold at auction for over $7,500. Finally, a win—50 years too late.

Then there was Betamax. When Sony launched it in 1975, it seemed like a major victory. It was one of the first home video formats, with stunning picture quality and superb sound—far better than anything people had seen. In fact, the quality was so good that TV stations and production studios kept using Betamax tapes for professional work well into the 2000s. But despite the brilliant technology, Sony made one critical mistake: they kept the technology to themselves. They refused to license Betamax to other electronics companies. That meant fewer manufacturers made Betamax players, and fewer movies were released in that format. Just one year later, in 1976, JVC introduced VHS. Though its quality wasn’t as sharp, JVC was more flexible—they licensed VHS to any company that wanted in. Suddenly, there were more players, more tapes, and more choices for consumers. The result? Betamax’s dominance vanished almost overnight. Its share of the home video market dropped from 100% in 1975 to just 10% by 1988. Despite struggling on for a few more years, the end was inevitable. Betamax lost the format war—not because it wasn’t the best, but because it wasn’t open.

In 1974, Gerber, famous for feeding generations of children, decided it was time to grow up a little. The company came up with what it thought was a groundbreaking idea: baby food for adults. They called it Gerber Singles, aimed at young singles living alone who didn’t want to cook. The concept was all about convenience—ready-to-eat meals in small glass jars, just like baby food. But this time, it was for grown-ups. There was just one problem: nobody wanted it. The foods were pureed meats and vegetables, with the same smooth texture meant for infants, but served to adults who had plenty of other options. Imagine opening a jar of meat paste or mashed peas for dinner. Not exactly appetizing. People were confused, a little disgusted, and unwilling to swap their fast food or sandwiches for something that looked like it belonged on a highchair tray. Gerber had completely misread the market. Adults didn’t want convenience in that form. They wanted taste, texture, and—yes—dignity. Gerber Singles flopped spectacularly and quickly disappeared from store shelves.

In 1972, Downeyflake, known for frozen breakfasts, decided to reinvent the morning meal. Capitalizing on the success of quick and easy products like Pop-Tarts and toaster pastries, they introduced Toaster Eggs. The idea? A frozen egg patty you could pop in your toaster and have ready to eat in minutes. Sounds convenient, right? Well, in theory, maybe. But in reality, these things were more like hockey pucks than food. Round, thick, and strangely dense, they were not visually appealing at all. While the concept of a hot, quick breakfast was acceptable, Toaster Eggs missed the mark in taste, texture, and appearance. People were already skeptical of pre-cooked eggs, and heating them in a toaster made it even weirder. Consumers weren’t impressed, and sales quickly collapsed. By 1975, just three years after its launch, Toaster Eggs were pulled from stores, vanishing almost as quickly as they appeared. It was a bold experiment, but it proved that breakfast innovation needs more than just convenience. It needs taste and familiarity, too.

Then there was Polaroid Polavision. Polaroid was once the queen of instant photography. Their cameras like the SX-70 and OneStep were everywhere in the ’70s, snapping photos and developing them right in your hands. Riding that success, Polaroid decided to leap into the world of home movies. In 1977, they introduced the Polavision system, hoping to compete with Kodak, which already dominated the market with its Super 8 film. Polavision was highly innovative for its time. It used a unique film cartridge that looked like a small video cassette. After shooting, you could develop the footage in minutes using a special tabletop viewer. You could even remove the reel and play it on a standard Super 8 projector—a clever touch. But despite the brilliant technology, the system failed. Why? Well, for starters, the image quality was poor. You had to shoot in very bright light or the results looked dark and washed out. Colors were faded, and unlike Kodak’s Super 8 cameras, Polavision couldn’t record sound at all. That was a major reason for its failure. Sales never took off, and by 1979, Polaroid discontinued the project. These days, you can find Polavision equipment on eBay for as little as $25—proof that not every big idea lasts.

Which of these failed ’70s products do you remember using or seeing yourself? The Sansui Quadraphonic Sound System. In the early ’70s, home audio was a big deal. Most people were still using two-speaker stereo setups, but Sansui had a vision for something more immersive—something that could bring music to life from all directions. Enter the Sansui Quadraphonic Sound System. Released in 1972, this four-channel audio system promised to revolutionize home listening by delivering sound from front, back, left, and right. It was a completely new experience compared to traditional stereo. At $200 then—about $1,200 in today’s money—it wasn’t cheap, but it was revolutionary. Sansui wasn’t alone for long. Other audio companies quickly followed with their own quadraphonic setups. Some even came with joysticks, letting users steer sound around the room for a fully customized listening experience. Big-name artists loved it. Aerosmith, Eric Clapton, The Eagles, and others released special albums mixed specifically for quadraphonic playback. But while the tech was exciting, the average consumer wasn’t ready to upgrade their entire setup for two extra speakers. Adoption was slow, and by 1978, the quadraphonic dream quietly faded. The music industry soon embraced digital recording instead. Today, working Sansui quad receivers still fetch around $200 as nostalgic pieces of audio history.

Clairol Yogurt Shampoo. In the late ’70s, natural ingredients were all the rage. People wanted cleaner, healthier lifestyles, and that trend extended to beauty products. Suddenly, products with honey, lemon, aloe, and herbal extracts were everywhere. So Clairol decided to jump on the bandwagon with something a little more dairy. In 1979, they launched Yogurt Shampoo, betting that what’s good for the body must be great for hair, too. The packaging leaned heavily into the natural vibe—soft colors, pictures of yogurt, and text that made it look more like a snack than a shampoo. And that’s where things started to go wrong. Consumers were confused. Really confused. Some thought it was actual yogurt. Others weren’t sure whether to put it on their hair or in a bowl with fruit. Believe it or not, there were reports of people trying to eat it. Despite Clairol’s good intentions, Yogurt Shampoo was a marketing flop. To make matters worse, the product itself wasn’t exceptional in performance. It was pulled from shelves in no time. These days, it’s remembered as a bizarre footnote in shampoo history rather than a beauty breakthrough—proof that going too natural can backfire, especially in a bottle.

LaserDisc. Long before DVDs took over living rooms, there was LaserDisc—a shiny, oversized disc that looked like a giant CD. First introduced in 1978, it was a bold step forward in home entertainment. It offered sharper video and cleaner sound than the bulky VHS tapes most people used. At the time, it seemed like the future of movie watching had finally arrived. But despite its technical merits, LaserDisc came with some major drawbacks. First, you couldn’t record on it. That was a big deal back then because VHS tapes let you easily record shows from TV. LaserDiscs were playback-only, with no flexibility. They weren’t cheap either. Players and discs cost significantly more than VHS, making them hard to justify for the average consumer. The format persisted through the ’80s and even tried a comeback in the ’90s. Movie buffs loved it for its quality and early access to director commentaries and special features. But once DVD arrived with better quality, lower prices, and recording options, the game was completely over.

World Football League. In 1974, a new and bold competitor entered the field against the NFL: the World Football League, or WFL. With big dreams and even bigger promises, the WFL sought to create an international football empire that would rival and perhaps replace the NFL. But as it turned out, ambition doesn’t always equal success. The league launched with 13 teams across the U.S., including one in Honolulu, Hawaii. The name “World Football League” gave it an international flair, but in reality, it never expanded beyond U.S. borders. Despite the flashy start, things fell apart quickly. Attendance was poor, money ran out, and many players didn’t get paid on time. Even sports stars lured away from the NFL with promises of huge contracts found themselves caught in financial chaos. The WFL barely completed its first season in 1974. The second season in 1975 was cut short when the league collapsed midway. In less than two years, the dream of global football domination was over.

Swing Bike. In 1975, a new and crazy way to get around appeared on the streets: the Swing Bike. Designed and patented by Ralph Belden just a year earlier, it wasn’t your ordinary bike. What made it special? It had two steering points—one in the front like a normal bike, and another in the back right under the seat. That meant you could steer both wheels independently, allowing for wild, twisting maneuvers no regular bike could do. The Swing Bike was all about showmanship, not function. It wasn’t built for commuting or long distances. It was a stunt bike, meant to turn heads and draw attention. Riders could swerve in S-shapes, or even keep one wheel on the sidewalk and the other in the street, pulling off tricks that looked like a circus act. But despite its cool factor, it was far from easy to control. The dual steering made it unstable for beginners, and many riders took spills. That wobbliness and safety risk kept it from becoming widely popular. After just a few years on the market, Swing Bike production ended in 1978.

Thank you for watching. To keep more content coming, write “yes” in the comments to let us know you’re still with us. Sauna Hot Pants. Short shorts were a huge trend in the ’70s, but someone had the brilliant idea to take it further and make them inflatable. Enter Sauna Pants—a strange mix of fashion and wishful thinking. These inflatable pants promised a miracle: melt stubborn body fat without moving a muscle. No diet, no exercise. Just relax in your favorite chair, maybe have a cookie, and let the magic happen. The theory was that by trapping heat and making you sweat, these pants targeted problem areas like hips, thighs, and belly. Wear them around the house while watching TV, and supposedly you’d start shrinking within days. It sounded too good to be true—and it was. While many companies rushed to ride the wave and released their own versions, they all failed spectacularly. People quickly realized that profuse sweating doesn’t actually mean fat loss, and wearing inflatable pants at home was neither comfortable nor effective. Plus, if you were a man, you had to hope the only thing disappearing wasn’t something you’d rather keep. Sauna Hot Pants are now a hilarious footnote in the long history of weird weight-loss gimmicks—proof that there really are no shortcuts to fitness.

Twist and Tone. The ’70s weren’t short on bizarre weight-loss inventions, and one of the most memorable was the Twist and Tone. This device promised to help you shed pounds and tone your waist, all while having fun. Unlike traditional exercise, it didn’t involve running, lifting weights, or heavy sweating. No, all you had to do was stand on it and twist your body from side to side. Easy, portable, and supposedly effective. The device looked suspiciously like a rotating kitchen tray—just a round disc that spun in place. You could use it at home, at the office, even while watching TV. Just a few minutes a day and your belly fat would start melting. Or so they claimed. It was marketed as a miracle solution for people who hated real exercise. But here’s the truth: it didn’t work. Sure, it might make you move a little, but it wouldn’t replace cardio or strength training anytime soon. Plus, people felt pretty silly using it—twisting their hips in the middle of the living room like they were stuck in the wrong dance. Despite versions of the Twist and Tone existing since the ’60s, none achieved major success.

Smell-O-Vision revival. The idea of “smell-O-vision” has always seemed like something out of sci-fi. Why just watch a movie when you can smell it too? While the original concept appeared in the ’60s, the ’70s saw some bizarre attempts to bring it back. The goal was to create a fully immersive cinematic experience by pumping scents into theaters or even homes to match what was happening on screen. Imagine the smell of popcorn during a snack bar scene or an ocean breeze during a beach shot. Sounds fun, right? Not exactly. In practice, the technology was primitive and unreliable. Often, smells arrived too early, too late, or not at all. Worse, once released, the odors lingered—and not in a pleasant way. Imagine watching an emotional drama while the room still reeked of pepperoni from two scenes ago. Audiences were distracted rather than delighted, and theater owners weren’t happy about installing extra equipment that didn’t work well. Smell-O-Vision revival attempts quietly faded by the late ’70s. Turns out, people prefer to watch stories unfold with their eyes and ears, not their noses. Today, it’s often remembered as a weird footnote in the long, strange history of movie gimmicks.

8-Track Cleaning Kits. In the ’70s, 8-track tapes were all the rage. Whether you were driving your car or listening to music at home, you probably had a stack of bulky tapes and a player to match. With all that use, companies saw a golden opportunity and rushed to sell 8-track cleaning kits—little packs filled with brushes, sponges, sprays, and promises of better sound and longer tape life. The pitch was simple: keep your tapes clean and they’ll last longer. But in reality, these kits rarely worked as advertised. Some brushes were too rough, sprays too sticky, and often the sponges caused more harm than good. In many cases, the cleaners left residue or scratched the sensitive parts of the tape, speeding up damage instead of preventing it. It didn’t take long for word to spread. People realized these kits were mostly gimmicks, and many stopped using them altogether. By the late ’70s and early ’80s, cassette tapes began to dominate and demand for 8-track accessories quickly faded.

And then there was Qube, Warner Cable’s interactive TV experiment from 1977. Viewers could press buttons on a special remote to vote in live polls, choose camera angles, or influence which music videos aired next—a genuine glimpse of the future, decades before streaming and smart TVs. But the system was expensive to install, glitchy, and frankly confusing for the average family just looking to relax. “Most people found it too complicated—or saw no need for it at all.” By the early ’80s, maintenance costs and low adoption killed Qube for good.

Not every ’70s flop was a failure of technology, though. Some were pure, glorious absurdity. In 1975, ad man Gary Dahl turned a one-cent rock into a $4 phenomenon: the Pet Rock. Wrapped in a cardboard box with air holes and a tongue-in-cheek care manual, it mocked how demanding real pets were. Millions sold in months—until buyers realized they’d literally purchased a rock. The fad collapsed overnight.

And who could forget Clackers? Those acrylic balls on a string were everywhere until they shattered like glass, sending kids to emergency rooms with broken teeth and eye injuries. By the mid-’70s, the U.S. government banned them outright.

So many bold ideas, so many spectacular crashes. Some were ahead of their time; others were just rocks in boxes. Which of these ’70s disasters would you secretly want to try today—and which one are you glad stayed buried in the past?