Jacki Owen

Boots and Minis

They can work themselves into frenzies trying to wrap the dollies in maxi-skirts, but they won’t get any help from us.

Nor from JACKI OWEN, except in the line of duty.

Jacki is a fashion model and all right, maybe she does have to glide down the catwalk all covered up in a maxi, but she hasn’t bought one for herself yet.

Perhaps, says Jacki, it’s all right for the skinny ones who look better with their legs covered up, but I’m not skinny and I think I’ve got rather nice legs, don’t you?

Divine is a better word.

Thank you. Well, then, says Jackie, what would you do?

We’d keep making life a lovely eyeful for our fellow-men.

Oh, go on, says Jackie, I’m not as inspiring as that.

You are to us, you gorgeous thing.

Joy Bamforth

Go-Go Girl

Okay, so you like your girlfriend to be quiet, dreamy and aesthetic, so that she can earn a mountain of lolly as a professor of philosophy. Then when you get married you can stay at home with your feet up. Sounds just like being dead.

Ever thought about clueing up with a swinger, have you? The difference it can make to your life is staggering. Suddenly you're living, you've got a go-go girl and all is joyful music and cool discotheques.

JOY BAMFORTH of Yorkshire is a go-go girl. At seventeen life never stops, it's a whizz, a caper and a delight. Mini-skirts are made for legs and boots for dancing. A go-go girl like Joy is an inspiration but you'll never keep up with her if you're over thirty.

If you're over thirty you get headaches.

Susan Douglas

Where Are The Elements

It doesn't matter all that much where they are, if they aren’t with us now they will be any moment. They've got a habit of not leaving us alone for too long, and since SUSAN DOUGLAS is well aware of this, she’s gotten herself self well equipped to cope with them.

Apropos the wind and the rain, of course. Susan is just the girl we wouldn’t mind being cast adrift with in a boat to the fair isles of sunshine and coconuts and nobody else.

Marilyn Ward

See the Manageress

If you like shopping with your girlfriend, particularly when she’s after a bargain in a boutique, you can get very good service in the boutique run by MARILYN WARD.

Ask for the manageress and Marilyn will appear. You’ll be so captivated that five minutes later your girlfriend will slosh you and say, “In case you’ve forgotten, Romeo, you’re with me.”

Susan Whiddon

Plymouth Is The Place

Plymouth is where SUSAN WHIDDON resides, so Plymouth is the place for any feller who wants to play the part of a devoted fan and pop flowers into her letterbox once a week.

Susan and her hubby came down from the North to live in Plymouth, and the place perked up no end when she arrived. It’s a fair and attractive city in any case. It's even better looking now.

Susan likes reading, dancing and sunning herself in her bikini. Her husband likes Susan. What a sound and sensible feller.

Kim Scott

Flying Tonight ?

Joe Binglewood is so lucky he ought to be prohibited. He was coming out of the shop eating his fish and chips when he stepped on the foot of a tall picturesque dolly who was in the ravishing category.

Which is to say she was all long legs and curves. Joe was full of chips and it took him six swallows before he could start apologising.

"It's quite all right," said KIM SCOTT, "it's only my foot and I'm sure the numbness will have gone by next week"

Joe had never trodden on the foot of such a lovely bird as Kim, which just shows how lucky he really is. Kim is an air stewardess with the most vibrant personality. It sort of makes you quiver, unless you go in for bicycles and your mother won't let you meet girls. In which case the pleasure of flying tonight with a girl like Kim and having her top up your coffee cup, is something you ought to talk seriously about to your mum.

Kim is our idea of how to fly from London to Pompala in transported fragility. The more you see of her the weaker you get.

Where's Pompala, by the way?

Who cares?

Sara Wolfe

Where Will All The Dollies Go ?

If the sixties are remembered for anything, it'll be for the emergence of the mini-skirted dollies.

Girls have always played a characteristically confusing part in the lives of boys. Boys find no complications up to the age of about 15. Up to that age the girls are around but the boys ignore them.

This makes the girls furious. So, when the boys reach 16 and upwards, when they then become aware there's something corkingly fascinating about girls, the girls pay them out by making life so confusing and complicated for them that life is never quite the same again for the muscular sex.

The emergence of the mini-skirted dollies really put the lid on the traumatic effects. Many a boy just reeled about mumbling, "Oh, my grandmother, I can't even put my head out of the window without losing my eyesight."

SARA WOLFE is a brilliant example of a London dolly making life chronically traumatic for highly susceptible boys. She works in an advertising agency. She wears the loveliest minis.

But now that the midi and the maxi are gradually taking over, where will all our dishy dollies go to? Girls in midis or maxis aren't dollies anymore, they're just followers of undolly fashion. Perhaps the boys won't get such eyestrain, but oh, woe.

It goes without saying that Sara in a maxi would be a different girl. You'd never see her legs and young boys would wonder if she'd got any.

Nancy Sinatra

Here Come Those Boots

That was the day.

Down the steps from the airliner they came, polished, gleaming and pointing. Encased in them were the shapely legs of NANCY SINATRA, and by the time they reached ground level the photographers were already putting their elbows in the other feller's eye. Word having got around that Nancy had arrived in London, loud were the cries of “Come on, Nancy, walk right over me, baby—I want to show your boot marks to my best friends

Ooh-oh.

Serve the fool right. He should have known it was going to hurt.

Nancy took it all in her stride. What a girl. What boots.

Ooh-oh.

Heather Brown

Heather For Luck

There's a saying that if you wear a sprig of heather it will bring you luck. If you wear a sprig of Scottish heather, it's said you'll never have the misfortune to fall into Loch Ness and be eaten by the monster.

Now then. HEATHER BROWN was on holiday in Scotland and she and her boyfriend were out in a boat. He was wearing a sprig of local heather. He fell in. Heather rescued him. "There you are," he panted wetly, "what luck, it didn't eat me."

"It wasn't there," said Heather, "this is Loch Lomond."

"Never mind," he said, "you're my best bit of real luck, if you hadn't been around you couldn't have pulled me out."

Heather giggled.

Jenny Price

Lovely & Learned

Anyone can be an egghead. All you need is the right kind of brain and a fixation on philosophy or economics or the kings of ancient Thebes. In that way, you not only become an egghead but because of your great learning you’re an old fogey before you’re thirty. You can’t talk about anything except logarithms or Theseus or Queen Nefertiti.

Cardiff student unlikely to ever turn into an egghead or a fogey is JENNY PRICE. She’s simply too dishy. There are female eggheads who wander around museums looking at Egyptian mummies, but that’s not for Jenny. She’s going to be a cool, elegant, indispensable, photogenic secretary.

Thank goodness for that.

LuLu

Yoo-Hoo, Lulu

They ran the Derby at Epsom not so long ago and everyone got quite worked up. The runners went so fast that the only way of finding out how many were in the race was to count the legs and divide by four.

 One of the Epsom visitors was international singing star LULU.

 The cameramen caught her on the rail in her K.O. hot pants. Lulu just projected a lovely smile and they all said, "Good on you. Lulu, you're even more photogenic than the gee-gees."

 "I bet you say that to all the girls," said Lulu.

Tamie Scott

A Very Sporty Bird

Tamie is a secretary and the love of her life, apart from rugged men with a sense of humour, is her zippy little sports car, in which she whizzes around the Hampshire countryside with a great deal of nerve, verve and expertise.

No novice at the wheel is Tamie.

“You don't only need a sense of humour," said one rugged gentleman, “you need to know how to keep your head on round all the bends. It's all fast gear changes with Tamie, and that's racing stuff, boyo. Let her go, gal."

Tamie works in an office in Bournemouth and arrives every Monday morning looking glowing from all the fresh air of the week-end.

Kathy Jenkins

Well To Cut a Mini-Story Short

Yes, we don't want to go on at length about the mini-wear of KATHY JENKINS We just want to give you the brief details.

Kathy is a devoted fan of the mini and she was modelling her latest outfits in the green and brown woodland glade when a rabbit dashed by, followed a few seconds later by another.

“What was all that about?" asked Kathy.

“What a question," said the photographer. "Well, first of all I'd better tell you about the birds and the bees."

So, he began to expound, but he hadn’t got very far before everything went all dark. Kathy had hit him over the head with a small tree.

A girl just doesn't like being made a fool of.

Jackie Murray & Nancy Crawford

Facing the Fact

The fact of the matter is this long underwear is back in vogue after being lost in the midst of the crazy twenties, and JACKIE MURRAY, left, and NANCY CRAWFORD, right, decided there was nothing to do about it but get into the swing of the fashion themselves.

Sally Peters

In the Middle of the Jungle

This is a wild nature story

Well then, dead in the middle of the jungle was an Edwardian town house of three storeys. All around it was concrete. It was about half-a-mile from Chelsea and you couldn't see the rest of London for all the bricks. In the charming bedsit on the top floor was an exotic orchid., blooming away despite the jungle.

You could have swiped us semi-conscious with a gardenia window-box when we met the orchid. She was SALLY PETERS. She had never been in a jungle before, she had come from a quiet country town to work as a secretary in London. The hoots of the taxis were like the roars of lions, but Sally was blooming all the same. Well, she had coped with whistling wolves for years, so roaring lions were no problem.

"I could eat them for breakfast," she said.

The first lion-eating orchid of all time.