I liked the advertisements when everything was so innocent. For example, instead of those sexist adverts you see left, right and centre, you had the real American Dream (I'm not a Yank, but you get the idea). Father had his pipe, mother had her hair in a bow, the daughter and son skip down the road and the black-spotted dog yelped as he joined them. All while the sun was shining behind them, and everyone passed that family by in a convertible with a smile on their face.
If that doesn't tell you what I love about vintage, then nothing can.