Her day-to-day forte may be shorthand-typing, but seen at home there’s no doubt SUSANNE FERRIER does a great deal to make the decor look bright and right. It’s just that any home needs a pretty girl around to make the decor worthwhile—a lawn mower or a sewing machine don’t give the same effect at all.
Country girl JULIE MARSDEN likes the rural life in the quiet, unspoilt environment of the Cotswolds. She's married to an American and neither she nor hubby yearn for the clash of trams, the howl of sirens and the creaking of high-rise concrete.
They like their country cottage, and enjoy walks down the lane to the whispering woodlands, where they first met. Julie was picking bluebells and he was wondering whether he was lost. It was mutual enchantment at first sight, like.
Some film stars can't stand it unless they've got six birds or six fellers always ready and willing, but Julie reckons romance isn't dead yet if you can appreciate the simple life.
There was Sir James in his deerstalking outfit and there at the gate was a beautiful bird. In his deerstalking gear Sir James naturally never went after birds, as it wasn't ethical except when he was wearing his grouse get-up.
However, any man would be a fool to commit himself to ethics as inelastic as that.
"Gad," he muttered, "a young dear is as good as an old doe any day, never mind if me suit is inappropriate."
He doffed his hat and bowed. The beautiful bird looked up, Sir James heard a swish of wings and there she was, flying away.
Some birds always fly away when aristocracy gets too close. You can't trust those pent-up deerstalkers. LOUISE BURTON is just such a bird, and Sir James didn't need his binoculars to see she was a beautiful one.
Louise lives in Brighton, spends the summers on the beach and her holidays in Spain. The matadors out there don't half give the bulls what for when Louise is around.
"Cor, what a life," panted Ferdinand, "I wish she'd go away."
MARGARET CARMICHAEL is an ice-skating star but this was one time when she'd hung up her skates to spend a quiet week-end relaxing at home. Margaret is nineteen, is a petite young lovely at 5' 1” and measures 35-23-36.
On ice Margaret is a flashing figure of grace and speed, and she doesn't look so bad reading a book in front of the fireplace, either!
But if there's one thing that can get her off the carpet it's a phone call from a boyfriend who wants to know if she'll go skating with him at the local ice rink. What's more enjoyable than a busman's holiday on ice?
Today it is not sufficient for the well-dressed girl merely to clothe herself expensively from head to toe. Today it is not even remotely inspiring to go into any shop and casually order six different outfits a la the latest look from Paris.
Today the well-dressed girl only considers herself well-dressed if she looks not like everyone else but like her friends. Eventually this is bound to produce the same result, with one girl’s friends looking like every other girl’s friends. But at the moment only the brave, bold and beautiful wear the kinky, kooky garments so beloved of the kinky, kooky designers.
One very nice girl we know JANET PAYNE is absolutely crazy about everything kooky, and adores high boots and colourful leg-gear and crazy chapeaux. Janet works in a Newcastle departmental store, and as she commutes to and fro on the buses is a delight to the eye of every conductor.
Glasgow secretary JANE PAUL has always been our idea of a girl in form, and latterly she’s been just beautiful.
With vitalistics of 38-22-36, she’s a natural for stunning the eye of every man lucky enough to get her in focus. Some men get so eye-smitten they start falling about or lurching sideways. We men are so impressionable, you know, that sometimes we think corking charmers like Jane are unfair to us. Either they shouldn’t be so corking or they should dress in tents. We mean wear tents.
Even then, think how lovely Jane in a tent would be like on a camping site in Pogo-Pogo, wherever that is.
Garter-clad CHERRY LENNOX is letting nothing, not even summer holidays, divert her from her swotting, for Cherry dearly wants to graduate with honours from her university.
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?
Soccer fans are in several different categories these days.
There are the berserk.
There are the faithful.
There are the lovely.
One of the lovely ones is ROZ STUART. And her favourite footballers are fans of hers just as much as she's a fan of theirs. The trouble is, as the centre-forward said, how does a feller keep his mind on football when Roz is sitting in a favoured position on the trainer's bench and wearing a sweater as well?
It's a nice problem.
There’s nothing about a typewriter that isn’t familiar to SYLVIA MARTIN, for Sylvia has seen many of her friends tapping away on one. So, she bought one. She had an idea for the most fabulous novel. All about a girl who finds a formula for turning uranium into gold. So, while the idea was hot she began tapping. And you can see what froze the idea eventually. It was the backache she got. Isn’t she a doll?
Up in the Scottish Highlands they play all those Scottish games, and one of our favourite pin-up girls, RUTH CAVENDISH, is quite good at tossing the caber, providing the caber is scaled down to the size of a walking-stick. "A girl," says Ruth, "should be noted for her charm and subtlety, not her muscles. Who wants muscles?" She was having a grand game doing the Highland Fling not far from the local loch, and then a Scottish terrier joined in and made off with most of her clothes, Ruth having taken them off to give herself more freedom of movement.
It was a new kind of game looking for that terrier, who was finding her terylene skirt tastier than a tin of dog meat. Still, Ruth made a lovely picture while it was all going on.
Hello—yes?
What happened?
What, what?
Where did you get to?
I never went anywhere.
No, I mean last night.
Yes, I do too. I never went anywhere.
Oh, thanks very much, very complimentary I must say. I fix to meet you at Willi's Wunder Bar and you decide not to turn up. Well, at least you're not making excuses, at least you're giving it to me straight.
I am so glad you like it straight. When did we decide to meet at Willi’s?
When we were at Fritzi's.
Who is this I am talking to, please?
Otto. Don't say you've forgotten me already, Helga.
Alas, Otto, this is not Helga, this is Renate. I am sorry you have the wrong number but if you would like to make your request on a postcard I will send you an autographed photograph. Otto who?
Otto Ombert and I am now about to drop dead from mortification.
Have a nice funeral.
(Otto’s wrong number was RENATE USADEL, German model and starlet, and you couldn’t really blame him.)
Just in case you thought it was papier mâché, NANCY COLLINS wants to emphasise her petticoat is genuine nylon, and every frill is guaranteed to billow.
Around the fascinating street markets of London wander the seekers after the old and the ancient.
Among those with a keen eye for the genuine is MOLLY SHANNON. Whenever Molly can spare time from her job as a shorthand-typist she pops into the market throngs. Actually, Molly stands out in a throng. So, do most blue-eyed blondes with vitalistics of 36-24-37.
At seventeen she's already an expert on antique rings. She collects them and has bought the most fascinating ones for a song. So if you're dying to ingratiate yourself with her, and you'd be a hopeless case of fragility if you weren't, you couldn’t do better than give her a ring.
It has to be a ring of antique splendour, of course. Don't try and foist a fake on her. She'll never wear it.
They were waiting for their passports to be stamped, CAROL ANN LEDSAM and SANDRA MORRIS. A woman poked her head out and said, "Get undressed.” The girls thought it a bit odd to get undressed for passport-stamping, but helped each other until they both looked very chic in their undies. And then they found they were on the wrong floor, and they were nearly pulled into a sauna bath instead of receiving their passports.
