That Electrolux is a Model L (not an E)
and it's from 1969.
I remember the first time I saw one in this color - we were visiting a rather snooty aunt in South Carolina who really loved to put on the dog - this brand name and that, this country club and that one, fur coats in July, her obnoxious daughter who twirled the baton and rode horses ... you get the picture.
Anyway, she was going on about all her recent acquisitions, bragging as usual, and managed to slip into her prattling conversation "our new Deluxe Electrolux" about a half-dozen times.
Well, of course I was curious about that "Deluxe Electrolux" so I went snooping. I found it in short order, in a large hallway walk-in closet. I snorted when I saw it was the "Economy Electrolux" Model L and NOT the "Deluxe Electrolux" Model 1205! And it did not have the power nozzle or cord winder, just the most bare-bones straight-suction model with a halo!
That was so typical of her. One of my favorite stories about my dad is one time when we were visiting my paternal grandparents in North Carolina when I was about 9 or 10. Mama and Daddy were taking a nap in the front bedroom next to the TV room. Aunt Francis sashayed in, awakened them and coyly purred, "Would y'all please excuse me while I change mah clothes?"
My dad shot back, "Why don't you change your ways while you're at it!"
The two of them never got along at all - my dad is a person of simple, country-boy tastes and ways; Aunt Francis (deceased) was a "high-fallutin, putting on airs" member of the genteel South Carolina high-society set who loathed her "Tobacco Road" roots.
She really was a big phony -- strutted about with all the southern blue-blood royalty but she did not belong to, or come from, that class at all. She was just "poor hillbilly white trash." She got her money and counterfeit blue blood compliments of Her Hubby (whom in true southern form she always called "Daddy"), one of my dad's older brothers, who was a big executive for the McCormick Spice Company. (also deceased) Whenever he'd visit us, he'd come bearing cases of industrial-size jars of spices (which my mom, strictly being a "salt and pepper" cook, never used!)
I don't think my dad and Aunt Francis ever got along, to the day she took her last pseudo-aristocratic breath!