Lover of historical London, 21-year-old PENNY BAXTER has an ambition to do parachute jumps, but before she can get sky-high on this account she has to get down to studying art for a year in Florence. She's only just gone and can’t wait to get back!
There are various ways of preparing yourself for an audition. Neatly is the way JANE MERCER does it, with a bandeau round her blonde hair and a white collar and dark tie round her neck. It may not count for much if it’s an audition for a circus act, but it does help if it’s for reading poetry.
A delightfully charming west country girl called Monica Penelope Furbanke, but actually she wasn’t half as delightful as CYNTHIA MAYO, who is not only a disc fan but is top of our pops.
Going around the Continental countries and touring all over Britain, blonde CAROL HANS just makes for any cameraman's dream, carolling along in leggy style.
Well, she can sing a bit, you know. She sings as she walks. She's been all over everywhere, singing all the way.
She's so easy on the ear and she's magical on the eye. It comes from being a lovely baby and growing up into a lovely girl. There are people who can't find anything right with the world.
They're nutheads.
Winner of beauty contests is JOY HARRIS, and an unrivalled joy to behold in her bikini.
We'd have photographed her in it if she'd had it with her.
What happened to it, then?
Well, it was like this. Joy hung it out to dry and a wind blew up and carried it away, both top and bottom. It landed at the feet of a young man emerging from a chemist's shop with headache pills. He'd had a headache ever since his last disagreement with his girlfriend Rosie. Rosie had used a croquet mallet. He thought the bikini was a gift from the gods and that Rosie would be enchanted with it. But it was an itsy-bitsy bikini and Rosie was by no means an itsy-bitsy girl, and all the time she was in it she kept falling out of it. It was ever so embarrassing.
To stay in it and to look unrivalled, a girl needs the same vitalistics as Joy. 36-23-36.
Everything was lovely and sunny and calm. LILI REUTER was lovely and sunny and calm herself.
Then the tide came in. Fast and sneaky.
Splash.
Talk about wet. Dress, stockings and legs. Lili muttered French words she never realised she knew, especially as she's a Bavarian. Still, it was a French tide somewhere near St. Malo and it made her so wet that Lili sat resignedly down in it. She turned into a lovely young soak, like. Wet all over she was in the end. French blokes ventured near, asking her if she needed a towel, and Lili threw wet sand at them.
Larky it was.
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.
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.
Gamesmanship, as all you sporty fiends know, is the art of making sure the other feller keeps to the rules while you elasticate them. If you still lose it’s something to do with the fact that you’re a dead loss at games anyway, and it would be advisable to go round the world on a pogo-stick and not get mixed up with sport of any kind.
This is the way gamesmanship was applied when JANE RENNIE, brunette, met CHERIE SCOTT, blonde, in a local version of talkative Hide-and-Seek.
“Oh look, I can’t see.”
“Ah, ma Cherie, you’re not supposed to. You find out where I am by concentrating on the direction of my voice. How do you like my striped shorts?”
“Oh, they’re sweet. I think you’re over there by the dish-washer. What do you think of my Carnaby-street hoopla trousers?”
“Divine. Missed me. Were they terribly expensive?”
“I’ll have to forego seventeen lunches. Look, I wish you wouldn’t keep dodging in and out of the pantry. Am I warm yet?”
“You’ll catch me soon.”
“Oh, excuse me, I seem to be suddenly handicapped.”
“I’m afraid, Cherie dear, that your Carnaby-street hooplas are more of a handicap than a decoration.”
“Did you—?”
“No, honestly, Cherie, they just fell down.”
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?
Ravishing dolly CHRISTINE PORTER thought it was never going to happen, the date with her boyfriend. He hadn't rung or sent a note or anything. Then a boy on a bike arrived and said Handsome asked could she make the Knights' Castle at ten o'clock. The Knights' Castle is ah Arthurian disco.
"Ten o'clock? That's late," said Christine.
"Yes, well, he went down a pothole," said the boy, "and took a long time coming up."
"I'll kill him," said Christine, and spent an hour at her dressing table making herself look absolutely beautiful. That's enough to slay any feller, especially one on a late date.
If you're over forty, you'll no doubt have acquired experience, sophistication and an ability to recognise a door-to-door salesman who's offering you a bargain and one who's having you on.
Even so, you'll not be the girl you were at twenty. You may look more beautiful—having captured that undeniably curvaceous look which no true woman likes to be without, but some of the spring will have gone. And you're gladder each day to get your corset off each night, if we may coin the phrase.
Therefore, vigorous physical jerks are not for you. They're much more for young housewives like LESLIE PETERS and JANE RENNIE, pictured here in a vibrating skipping routine that went slightly haywire.
Jane is the one who fell flat on her back. Leslie is the one still on her feet. They're both extremely modern housewives with such an extremely modern urge to keep slim, trim and vital that falling about all over the place all seems a repercussive part of their dynamic physical jerks.
Well, that’s what the efficiency experts tell you. But efficiency experts are all bred from computers and know nothing of the pleasures of a filing system that is all haywire or the joys of flinging papers this way and that as you rip the cabinet to pieces looking for last year’s price list.
But complementary to this is a shorthand-typist who remains cool, calm and collected all through the rainstorm of carbon copies and brings you a chocolate biscuit with your coffee.
Shorthand-typist looking very cool on a humid day is MARGARET COATES who works in a Cardiff office. She doesn’t always look like this, of course, unless she’s got the place to herself. She just knows that on a humid day there's an obvious way of remaining cool, calm and collected.
It makes a change from other days when chaos prevails and she finds a near-demented boss has put her into the filing cabinet with all the other impedimenta.
No model has hit the glamour headlines with greater impact than lovely JUNE PALMER, one of our consistent top pops. June is the perfect answer to the fallacy that gentlemen prefer blondes.
June, a London girl, is a full-time model and loves every minute she spends in front of a camera. She is, in fact, a perfect pin-up in every way.
West German student ANGELIKA FAKELBERG is having a very intense time at the moment, swotting for nothing but exams.
It's all reference books and brain work.
You wouldn't think, would you, that anyone as pretty as Angelika would need to worry about brains, but the world being what it is a girl these days needs them as she's never needed them before.
That's what comes of equality and having to show men you're as good as they are. It's not enough now to have intuition and the beguiling aptitude for making men go on their knees when they offer diamond bracelets, you've got to beat them to their knees in other ways.
It’s getting awful
