It Had To Happen
It always does. Happily humming to herself, JO FOWLER set about finding a place for a picture in her husband's new residence in France, where he now works. You can see what happened. It always does.
(or - Don’t Shoot The Cook, She’s Too Beautiful)
When Mr. Burley, a keen amateur photographer, who hails from Brixton, London, sent us some photographs of his lovely wife, we were so impressed by the discrimination he showed in picking a girl like this to wed, that we sent our own photographer along to provide additional evidence.
We didn’t arrive at the best time. Well, it wasn’t the best time for blonde and beautiful Mrs. Burley, who was choring in the kitchen—no girl likes to be caught in her apron— but it didn’t take us long to realise that there’s no time like the present, and could the lady have looked any lovelier without her apron, anyway? A moot point, that, and one on which we will not linger.
Mrs. Burley, do you always dress in this cute outfit when you’re working in the kitchen—or is it that we just caught you on the wrong day?
Well, no-well, yes—well, I like to look glamorous in my kitchen, particularly on Wednesdays, which are half days, of course.
But today is Thursday—
Is it? Oh, well excuse me a moment while I lift Mrs. Beeton off the biscuit tin.
No, but really, Mrs. Burley — hold that a moment — you really are the cutest kitchen maid we’ve seen in years.
Well, thanks. For that you can stay and have some coffee, if you like.
Would you like to sit on your kitchen table, Mrs. Burley? With pleasure—but may I ask what for?
Because it's always been a crazy idea of ours that there are so many things which photograph better on a kitchen table than cups, saucers and toast-racks, and now we see you there we know it wasn’t such a crazy idea at that.
Well, we finally went away with the feeling that we’d shot off a lot of very attractive photographs, and it wasn’t until we’d gone about five miles in the trolley-bus that we realised we'd left Mrs. Burley to do the washing-up by herself. Never mind. She did it all with such a sweet smile.
T.V. viewer is TONI KAYE, who dresses informally for looking-in!
We haven’t got a clue what's on, but we share with Toni’s many admirers a feeling that, with Toni around, it can’t be anything that matters.
It turned out to be a short piece taken from Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto, and these two pictures illustrate Toni’s concentration—not on the Concerto, which she switched off, but on the Yogi formula of lying diagonally from corner to corner instead of straight from North to South. What does it achieve? Somewhere the answer’s in the relevant book.
Toni’s a cabaret girl and they’ve got a spotlight which makes every inch of her 36"-22"-35" count!
Wanting to anticipate the next look in way-out fashions, TRACY COLLINS opted for stripes worn with careless abandon, pink lace panties and black nylons.
Tracy, constantly seen around Chelsea where she shares an artistic pad with other working girls, isn't going to be left looking dead old-fashioned in a blanket style poncho when fashion hits a new trend. She wants to be first with the next look.
Tell you what, we go for those undone stripes.
With what clinical appraisal one can sum up their market potential. Swinging all the way.
If it’s true that gentlemen prefer blondes—we’re definitely open-minded on that point—it must be blondes like Margo who sway the issue.
Well, in black frills, not only is her fairness emphasised to the point where susceptible types are willing to carry a torch for blondes forever, but so are her long and lovely legs.
Anyone not in favour of Margo as an irresistible representative of beautiful blondes? In that case, you're sold on brunettes, but that, of course, doesn’t noticeably weaken Margo’s representative qualifications. It can't—she’s too beautiful.
It was quite by chance that APRIL SOMERS found some odd knickers. Odd is used in the bizarre sense and not because one leg was longer than the other.
They were what mother wore years ago.
"Oh well, anything for a laugh," said April, trying them on.
Well, fancy that, she thought, fancy anyone wearing them for serious. But they did, as mother subsequently told her, and they were considered ravishingly sexy and provocative.
"You could have fooled me", said April.
"Ask your dad, then," giggled mother.
"You saucy thing," said April to dad.
The funny thing was, April lounged around all day in them, and wore them for work the next day. They were just the job. April is a steeplejack.
Doorways are just doorways, but one doorway plus one pretty girl make quite a picture
We won’t introduce the doorway, but the girl is CATHY ALLEN, who lives in Hounslow, Middlesex, and she’s the one who really puts the decoration in the picture. Cathy is a 20-year-old receptionist, and she likes her job because she likes meeting people. That, brother, must be more than mutual!
With the door, half-shut it’s a bit of a squeeze, but we can still see Cathy, and that’s what matters.
There was nothing but sunshine and perfect peace around when DEBORAH STEPHENS first sat down to her picnic. They say that after seven years even the best of husbands (or wives) are inclined to get an itch, but only seven short minutes had gone by on this occasion when an itch attacked our Debbie.
She’d just got herself comfortably settled on her tummy— without lying on the strawberry jam sandwiches—when she found herself idly scratching her leg. Debbie has a very nice leg, but she doesn’t often also have an itch.
Initially, let’s face it, she wasn’t all that bothered. She was, in fact, scratching her leg fairly absent-mindedly, until quite suddenly the cause of the itch actually bit her.
“Help!” yelled Debbie. “It’s ants with long fangs!”
No help in the form of, say, an anteater being around at the time, Debbie panicked and dived headfirst under the picnic tablecloth, where she waved two shapely legs very wildly in the air—until a sense of dignity overcame a sense of flustered retreat. Whereupon Debbie sat up. Who won the day, Debbie or the ants?
“I won,” said Debbie, “I’m sitting on them, and if every ant isn’t as flat as a pancake then my eight stone two pounds counts for absolutely nothing.”
Considering the millions of girls who are all representative of the absolute fascination of their kind today, it might be difficult for people like geologists and back-room boffins to decide which girl is more representative of our times than all the others.
It's not difficult for us.
We pick DAWN GRAYSON.
Glorious auburn hair, great big eyes, a laugh like the gurgle of a mountain stream and legs so photogenic you can hardly focus proper. That's Dawn. You’ve never seen her before?
Where have you been? Down a gold mine?
Dancer ANNABEL LANE has another passion besides choreography.
She's got lots of chess mates and can whack them all by concentrated dedication. One high-domed egghead who rather fancied himself got checkmated in six moves. When asked what it felt like to be annihilated he replied, "Dreamy, my dear—what a brain she's got to go with her measurements."
Annabel's measurements are all curvy.
One day a family moved into the empty house across the street from Percy, and from then on Percy spent his time peeping through his letter-box to see what he could see of the young lady there.
Her name was CRYSTALL DAWSON, and as far as Percy was concerned, she was the cutest-looking girl who’d ever lived opposite, and after five minutes he was nuts about her. Then his mother caught up with him and yanked him into the back room.
“ Aw, mum,” said Percy (who was thirteen and growing fast), “ be a sport, mum. Lemme have another dekko, mum.”
“ Percy,” said his mum, “ I have enough trouble with your father’s weakness for a pretty face. I’m not having the same trouble with you.”
Oblivious of her young admirer opposite, Crystall was getting the house in order and waiting for the rest of her clothes to arrive.
Crystall’s a typist, but would rather be a fashion model. Percy, a deadhead on careers, just thought she was a smasher.
Crystall is 5' 4", and measures 36"-24"-36". Figures to Percy just mean homework. Homework? There’s a clue there somewhere!
Tea is served and even coffee-drinkers can’t resist this!
Finally, of course, there's the afternoon must for every girl, irrespective of age or measurements — a nice cuppa.
Three lumps, please.
Keeping the fireside looking a lot more attractive than if she weren’t there is dark-eyed JEAN BELVIN.
The usual fireside adornment, apart from the tongs and the toasting fork, is a fat cat or a plump Pekinese. While we’re not prepared to make an issue of this with animal-lovers, the preference most people would have would favour Jean, and the cat would have to make do inside the coal-scuttle.
Removal of the plump Pekinese might be a little more difficult. You might even get bitten. But if you want to make room for an adornment as pretty as Jean muzzle the pup before you grab him.
In case you didn’t know, Jean is a receptionist who looks extremely chic in frilly black nylon. We know there's no connection, but we just thought we’d mention it. Ambition is to be a model pin-up!
Jean figures that her measurements of 36"-24"-36" keep her looking slick—and they don't give her any worry about what not to eat.
Don't bother to answer that question. We’ll take it as read. It’s obviously a foregone conclusion that JAN SIMS has the bonniest legs and the brightest smile.
Jan’s a tall—5' 9"—and shapely—35"-25"-37"— brunette from Glasgow. If you think she’s a professional model, you’re wrong. She’s an ‘Hello-girl’, and modelling is just a hobby. (Is that so? Then what’s she doing with legs like these?)
Preferably, of course, we’d like to have her at this end, but we'd probably have to fight an awful lot of Scots to get her over the border. They’re all mad about this kind of number themselves.
It's fun being married. JOANNE MARTIN says you needn't take too much notice of those odd people who tell you it's kaput, she says they don't know what it's all about, they're too busy going in and out of foggy hallucinations.
To be vitally interesting to your husband, says Joanne, you need first of all to look lovely to come home to, so that when he comes into the kitchen to see what's cooking he can't help thinking he'd like to eat you yourself.
Joanne, with her long, honey-blonde hair and her undeniable curves, is indeed a dish. She makes marriage lots and lots of fun, and sometimes in the evenings the television isn't an absolute social necessity at all.
Remember, says Joanne, that when hubby says, "Let's switch this rubbish off and play poker," you've proved you know how to be vitally interesting.
"Then you need good cards, "says Joanne, "or you're in for a yell of a time "
Architecture as a profession is not closed to the fair sex, and if you thought it was its time our ANGELA gave you reason to re-orientate your thinking. Our Angela knows a blue-print when she sees one.
Angela can not only apply herself practically to architecture, she can also get down to the job of blowing up the fire as gracefully as any full-time housewife, and certainly looks a lot better at it than we do.