Jenny Hurst

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Oh, Blow!

Life being full of fantasies, it's not going to sound all that unusual to you to hear that this nice girl, JENNY HURST, has a most uncommon hobby.

Jenny, in fact, likes to do glass-blowing in her spare time.

In her initial enthusiasm and impetuosity, her most overworked expression was, "Oh, blow!" as the expanding section either took a turn for the bizarre or collapsed into a shambles.

But she's a lot better at it now and can blow some lovely glass vases and things. Her real job is as a demonstrator in a London store, she's a honey blonde, has blue eyes, stands 5 feet 5 inches in her stockinged feet and has a figure of 36-24-36.

Louise Burton

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Drama Student

One of our newest pin-up favourites is LOUISE BURTON, who lives in Brighton, Sussex. The Prince Regent would have invited Louise to all his festive occasions in the Pavilion.

Louise is a drama student. She's keen to go on the stage. We're keen to see her on the stage. Well, actually, we don't mind where we see her just as long as we do. Day by day Louise commutes to and from her drama school and she's so popular with the male students that if she misses a class they go all moody and start doing Hamlet.

Moody soliloquies, of course, are the life and breath of every male student in every drama school. That's better than jumping off a bridge.

Marrianne Sand

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The Mini Strikes Again

Once more the mini in its brevity strikes the eye with an impact that almost hurts.

The girl is MARRIANNE SAND, a blue-eyed blonde from London. She's twenty-three, a dancer and an absolute dream. She likes suntan, champagne and messing about with boats.

She wears her jeans when she's sailing. The only time she wore a mini all the competing yachtsmen fell overboard.

Outside of boats Marrianne is lovely to have around, because she's not just a pretty face, you know. She can cook, make conversation and pass an opinion.

In other words, if you've got a girl friend who is only a pretty face, try one who can activate your intelligence.

I don't want my intelligence activated, said Fred, I just want a pretty face.

There's no one who needs a pretty face more than you do, Fred.

Vicky Ashley

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Making a Move

It wasn’t our idea to get up and go. We were in one of those groovy night clubs full of sensationally-clad birds accompanied by all that’s brightest in the way of fashionable male escortage.

Fashionable male escortage—as far as London is concerned—is something made up of the grooviest young men circulating the scene. The scene, of course, is any place in town where these breath-taking birds and their laughing boys congregate.

We were right in the throes of an incurable infatuation for a girl called VICKY ASHLEY, who was having a dizzier effect on our eyes than the revolving light. Was she gorgeous or was she not? She was. We asked a waiter to take her our card.

“Hold it, priceless,” he growled, “do I look like a waiter in me Spanish shawl and me string beads? Like me toreador boot in yer eye, would yer?”

We made a jolly little riposte to show him all we wanted was to drink wine with Miss Ashley, at which he called over a couple of laughing boys. We had to make a move. We didn’t realise people could take such quick offence.

As we left. Miss Ashley was looking lovelier than ever, and no wonder—she’s the newest and most photogenic model in town.

Barbara Welsh

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Golfing Marvel

What a life. All hot sun, green links and a perishing little white ball. Right, thought BARBARA WELSH, this is it, then. I did a 94 on the first hole last week, and if I can take eighteen putts today instead of twenty I'll do a 92.

And with that she hauled her clubs out of the car boot and went and attacked everything in sight — tees, bunkers, natural hazards and that perishing little white ball. In her mini she looked a marvel.

Barbara has never been a girl to let anything beat her, although there was one time when she got wrapped around by a wayward garden hose and flung into the asparagus bed.

She isn't going to let the frustrations of golf mess her about. But she could improve her grip a bit. For a right-handed girl she's got the most complicated left-handed grip.

This is Barbara lining up her putt. Why don't more girls in minis play golf?

Because, said Barbara, that perishing little white ball makes all girls want to scream.

Incidentally, she's eighteen and an ex-Tiller girl, and even if her golf could be improved, she still looks a lovely marvel at the game.

Anne Scott

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Outdoor Hazards

There's nothing wrong with the great outdoors that you can't cure by staying indoors. Cor, what a draught.

But sometimes circumstances force you out and keep you there. Like when TV personality ANNE SCOTT took an outdoor modelling assignment and couldn't ethically back out. And when she found she was modelling lingerie in a temperature that called for a fur coat, she knew what outdoor hazards really were.

Talk about how to look glamorous with shivers rocketing up and down your spine. What a petrifying carry-on.

"I think I'd rather be a non-combatant mercenary,” said Anne.

"What's a non-combatant mercenary?” asked Fred.

"Well,” said Anne, "you get a fabulous wage but you don't have to do any fighting. You sit in the lady officers' mess drinking hot soup and looking terribly cute in a pretty uniform.”

"Mini-skirted?” asked Fred.

"Naturally," said Anne.

"Okay," said Fred, "I'll join the same lot and sit in the lady officers' mess with you.”

"But bring your own soup," said Anne.

Patsy Rowlands

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How We Do It

How do we do what?

How do we find such adorable girls? Fellers keep on asking us that. They suspect we go out with a kind of adorable-girl divining rod, and that if we'd only lend them this rod for a week-end they wouldn't half be grateful.

It's all done by kindness, really. Adorable girls ring us up and make enquiries about modelling and we're so kind to them that they can't resist coming along to sit for us.

Like PATSY ROWLANDS, for instance. Our photographer was ever so nice to her. What a sweetie, thought Patsy. Actually, Patsy is so sweet herself she can't help looking for the best in others. She's another girl who works in an office, but most of her spare time is spent painting, sketching and horse-riding.

She's eighteen, is five feet six and measures 36-23-36.

Nicola Taylor

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Better and Better

Some models go off and get married, others get new jobs abroad and don't come back, and a few give everything up in favour of farming.

A very select minority keep at it and get better and better.

Like NICOLA TAYLOR, an always beautiful Hampshire model. Nicola gets better and better all the time. Don’t ask us how she does it so that you can pass the hints on to your wives or girlfriends, as it must be Nicola's own secret and probably wouldn't work with Nellie, anyway.

Now that summer's here you'll frequently find Nicola sunning herself on a beach at Bournemouth and getting a lovely golden tan nearly all over.

Pauline Hazel

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The Reason Why

It's scintillating modern dollies like PAULINE HAZEL who add up to the reason why life is so fantastically eye-catching for fellers.

Pauline is a secretary who likes to model a little in her spare time, and does she look corking or doesn't she as a pin-up ?

She does.

Pauline is twenty. She's all symmetrical at 36-23-36 and she's got gorgeous legs as well. And she's a high-flier. Literally. She takes flying lessons at week-ends, and is currently the girl we'd most like to be up in the clouds with.

And her ambition is to eventually own and fly her own plane.

Marvellous.

To think that a few years ago you'd give a girl a ball of wool and tell her to knit tea-cosies — if she wanted something to do. It's different today. Try it on with any of them now and next thing you know you're having to fight a duel with her — using knitting needles. After she's poked you six times in the pinny you give in.

It gets nice and friendly then.

It's the reason why the world goes round.

Marie Graham

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Housewife in Two Minds

One of our favourite ideas of what a charming housewife should look like is MARIE GRAHAM.

Lately Marie has been in two minds. About her legs. Which are rather eye-catching. Are they to be sheathed in tights or stockings? Gad, that is a problem. Shall stocking-tops once more prevail or not?

And Marie can't get any real help from asking well-known experts like the milkman. All he says is, "Well, come round to the dairy and me and me mates will have a look."

"Honest, you aren't half cheeky," says Marie.

"Ah, well, it makes me bottle tops go round," he says.

Eve Law

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A Dolly out of Doors

A genuine modern dolly is EVE LAW of Bournemouth, and a secretary bird into the bargain.

They don't come more swinging than Eve in her mini. She's a dedicated follower of the Pop scene and what she doesn't know about discs you could tell to Aunt Ethel without confusing her.

There's a lot of serious work to get through in her secretarial job but once the day is over its discotheque time and Eve is swinging. Long-legged at five feet seven she's so much a joy to the eye that there isn't a feller in Bournemouth who wants to go off and join the Foreign Legion.

Nicki Denell

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Disco Dolly

It's music all the way for most young people. For some old people, there hasn't been any music at all since the Charleston went out of fashion. Well, we all have our nostalgic periods, and there are thousands already nostalgic about the Beatles.

"Who are the Beatles?" asked six-year-old Francesca of her young mum and dad, and young mum and dad almost broke down and wept.

For eighteen-year-old NICKI DENELL it's today's music that counts. Nicki spends every evening Go-Go dancing with a mobile discotheque. That's the way to swing it, Fred, never mind what it was like when you were in Italy in 1 944.

Nicki's love of pop is only equalled by her ambition to get into films. She's maybe on the way, for recently she had an audition for a part in a movie to be made in Yorkshire. That'll be handy as well as ecstatic for Nicki—she lives in Leeds.

Joan Paul

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Wanted a Dream Boat

Having got over her passion for collecting vintage cars — they all came apart in her hands — JOAN PAUL decided she'd go in for a dreamboat with an outboard.

You don't have to muck about with sails then or get biffed by the boom or something.

So, she advertised for one and a Greek god turned up. Joan took one look at him, went all dizzy and said "Do you have an outboard?"

"I don't need an outboard to get me going” said the Greek god, "I only need encouragement."

Kathryn Jenkins

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Glamour in the Shop

Shop assistant KATHRYN JENKINS is eighteen and saving up to get married. So, in her spare time she does a little modelling, which helps to give a rosy look to her savings account. She lives in Coventry but when she's married she wants to live in the country.

In the shop where she works there's an atmosphere of glamour, what with it specialising in ladies' lingerie and Kathy being around to serve. Sometimes a blushing young husband will come in with the idea of buying his enchanting young wife something lovely and frilly for her birthday. Kathy will say, “Can I help you, sir?”

He'll twitch a bit and say, “Well er—I thought of buying my wife something rather er er—you know—well, it's her birthday and she looks nice in something rather er er—”

“Of course, sir," Kathy will say with a smile to knock him unconscious, “I'll show you something ever so er er, shall I?” And out come all the goodies.

She's a lovely shop assistant and has a stunning figure of 38 -22 -36.

Rita Johns

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Gone to Ski

The travelling baker, young and extremely personable, knocked at the apartment door in Knightsbridge.

It was opened by Ernestine, a languidly tormenting blonde.

"Who are you?" she said.

"I'm Faversham," he said, "I've got a bakery in Chelsea and I brought Rita a couple of crusty cobs. It's my day for doing my rounds."

"Thrilling." said the blonde, "but you picked the wrong day. Rita's gone to ski."

Faversham was quite upset. He liked baking crusty bread for RITA JOHNS and bringing it to her in person. No wonder. This is Rita and you can see how lovely she is to bring bread or biscuits to. She's secretary to a tycoon and is mad about ski-ing. That's why she was in Zermatt when the baker called.

She's nineteen, measures 36-24-36 and came to London from Newcastle.

Meanwhile, Faversham was pressing his crusty cob loaves on the languidly tormenting blonde, and she wasn't half playing hard to press.