An absolute dolly of a girl is MICHELLE DOLAN, who lives in Bradford, Yorkshire. Goes around with sparks in her eyes, lighting up like the Aurora Borealis at ail the funny things of life.
She's nineteen, measures 37-21-34 and works as a window-dresser. That's kind of Creative. She also likes to do a spot of modelling in her spare time. That's kind of artistic. Well, it is to us. We asked her what her favourite hobby was.
“Boyfriends” said Michelle.
Model from America is SANDY WALLACE.
Born in New England, she has a pad in Miami and commutes regularly from there to London.
Incredible, this casual flipping across the Atlantic when not so long ago it was an adventure for some girls to row from one side of the Hyde Park Serpentine to the other. And if any of them got splashed on the way they'd turn back.
Now Sandy high-flies from Miami to London about once a month without even thinking about it, if you discount the cost. Notice her American legs? Good for a lot of walking, you'd think, but down on the ground Sandy drives a car. Seems an awful waste of lovely legs, what?
It isn't often that a dental receptionist finds herself featured in the Press unless she's responsible for something unfortunate, like setting the surgery on fire.
With JANE BREWERTON, sweet seventeen, it happened in the nicest way. She won the Girl of The Month contest in the Yorkshire Evening Post and from then on, the national Press evinced interest.
We weren't exactly in a slowcoach mood and we caught Jane still in a delicious tizzy and falling over the furniture. She's a natural blonde with blue eyes and trimly curvy figure of 36-22-34. And we hope to see a lot more of her if we don't get lost on the Yorkshire moors.
Not so long ago NINA SWALLOW was living in Middlesex, a few miles from London. The scene was tailor-made for her, for Nina is a devotee of the theatre and everything that goes to make up the living, breathing atmosphere of a big city.
Then she had a chance to take a job in Australia. She thought well, we’re all only young once, and off she went to try a change of atmosphere and a change of scenery.
She's doing fine. She's a swinging Pommie.
They don't half follow her around on the beaches down under.
Photographer's receptionist MICHELLE LORRAINE is just the kind of girl you like to clap your peepers on when you call to make an appointment for a passport photograph. She makes you feel you'd rather hare a dinner date than a holiday.
Did we mention food? It wasn't out of place. Michelle is just the maid to bring glamour to a kitchen. Imagine a five-course meal and Michelle as well. Don't disturb. We're having coffee.
Or was she pushed?
Well, according to our currently top-pop pinup. ROSANNE STUART, she just fell in. It didn’t matter all that much because she was going to have a bath, anyway, and she had to get wet sooner or later.
She was just sitting on the edge of the bath and looking rather fetching in that position when before you could say "I wouldn’t sit so near the water if I were you, suppose you fell in with all your clothes on?” She fell in.
There was no panic, however.
It's always the way, it’s lovely once you’re in. You look lovely too.
We’ll pop out into the garden and put the line-up.
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.”
