It's a very fine difference, indeed, between one fashion and another. In floating skirt and frills, TONI SEARLE deliciously illustrates how fine is yesterday's fashion.
Looking extremely summery, Toni matched the colourful environment of the countryside near her home in Kent. If Kent is the garden of England, Toni is one of its more enchanting blooms.
Weekdays she's a typist. Weekends she's a dream.
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.
To be a really good model, you not only have to be a pretty type — you have to be a pretty tough type. That’s what MAUREEN HUCKER found when a recent assignment took her out into the country and it began to rain.
"Do we stop?” she asked the cameraman, and the cameraman, all wrapped up in raincoat, hat and umbrella, thought she was fooling. "Stop?” he said. “What for?”
“Because it’s raining and I’m wet,” said Maureen, and the cameraman said I’m all right, Jack, why should I worry?
“Oh, gosh," said Maureen, “these pictures could be called Girl and a Shower, and you,” she added under her breath, “are the shower, you rotter.”
Very frisky indeed were the passing breezes on the day MARION McCRECOR took a trip into the country, catching her just at the crucial moment of climbing the fence.
Ah, well, it’s fun to be alive and what’s a fence or a frisky breeze when you're young enough to take both in your stride?
ANNE MATTINGLEY is a firm believer in fresh air. So, of course, the first thing she docs when she tumbles out of bed in the morning is to sit on the doorstep and do her breathing exercises.
After she's touched her toes a few times she feels a new girl. What was wrong with the old one? Nothing, as far as we can see. Everything looks in fine shape, at 37-23-38.
A work of art more often than not is something they put on a pedestal or hang on a wall and is frequently called a museum piece. There’s the Mona Lisa and the Venus de Milo and MAGGIE McCULLY, only don’t try hanging Maggie on a wall, even at a Bond Street gallery, or you’ll find yourself in a six-foot frame and with a bump on your head that’ll fit a half-pint skid-lid.
Of course, if you’re a lover of art and subject to fragilistic trembling’s in the presence of the Mona Lisa or the Venus de Milo, you won’t be without palpitations in the presence of Maggie, either. As the epitome of all that is inspiring about the modern girl,
Maggie is even better than a work of art.
She lives and breathes and loves a sleigh ride.
A well-polished car with all that gleaming chromium and the rest of the gear is just right as a subject for glossy photography, but if you need to gild the lily how about adding ANNETTE FRENCH to the picture?
You might be inclined to suggest the car is superfluous in that case, even if it’s a supercharged model, and in turn we’d be inclined to agree with you. For if you’re looking for the photogenic dream, what’s a chromium-plated bumper compared with a natural beauty like Annette?
No, come on. Tearaway (said the panting jockey), get weaving or you’ll have me in dead trouble with Lady Sylvia. I tipped her you’d win by five lengths and here you are not even trying—swelp me if I don’t nobble you myself next time out. You couldn’t blame the gee-gee, really. The jockey just lost all sense of proportion when he gazed into the green eyes of SYLVIA MARTIN, 20-year-old bachelor-girl-about-town, who loves a flutter on the horses and believes anything a jockey tells her about the nags. Sylvia has lost the equivalent of a shirt more times than she cares to remember.
In case any of you think the height of bliss is only experienced by those riding a rocking-horse on the top of the Eiffel Tower, then there are those among you who haven’t seen Sylvia waving her horse home at Epsom. She dances, jigs, cavorts, yells, shrieks, and generally lets her enthusiasm take such hold of her that she becomes the most entrancing spectacle of the day.
Sorry we couldn’t show you her cheering her last flutter home, but we did catch her looking extremely entrancing in the domestic setting of a London flat.
Sylvia’s ambition, as distinct from her hobby, is the theatre—she wants desperately to break into the real, live genuine circuit—but she won’t put her shirt on it, she couldn’t bear to lose on that one.
Irish model JILL SUMMERS has a lovely negligee and a beautiful perm, but currently she’s concentrating on the effect of her new black nylons. Jill thinks they make quite a contrast to her white frills—but how do they look to you? No postcards, please—just whistles.
Sweet and charming MAUREEN PIKE was admiring the vista in her Hertfordshire countryside when a round man with a square camera bumped into her. "So sorry!" he said, but there were no hard feelings on either side and Maureen, in fact, was delighted. She loves being in front of a camera. And at 5' 7' you can see how prettily she filled his lens.
If it’s true that gentlemen prefer blondes—we’re definitely open-minded on that point—it must be blondes like Margo who sway the issue.
Well, in black frills, not only is her fairness emphasised to the point where susceptible types are willing to carry a torch for blondes forever, but so are her long and lovely legs.
Anyone not in favour of Margo as an irresistible representative of beautiful blondes? In that case, you're sold on brunettes, but that, of course, doesn’t noticeably weaken Margo’s representative qualifications. It can't—she’s too beautiful.
WELL, if you’re as pretty as PAMELA BEESTON, with the best years of your life still in front of you, you’d sing too, wouldn’t you?
Pamela is a shorthand-typist of Co. Durham, whose current hobbies are dancing and pop music, and these, together with her charm, her attractiveness and her statistics of 36-24-36 make her just about as representative of today’s modern girl as she could be.
The young senoritas of Spain or the chic young madams of France have nothing-absolutely nothing-on ours. Pamela’s pretty proof of that!
There was nothing but sunshine and perfect peace around when DEBORAH STEPHENS first sat down to her picnic. They say that after seven years even the best of husbands (or wives) are inclined to get an itch, but only seven short minutes had gone by on this occasion when an itch attacked our Debbie.
She’d just got herself comfortably settled on her tummy— without lying on the strawberry jam sandwiches—when she found herself idly scratching her leg. Debbie has a very nice leg, but she doesn’t often also have an itch.
Initially, let’s face it, she wasn’t all that bothered. She was, in fact, scratching her leg fairly absent-mindedly, until quite suddenly the cause of the itch actually bit her.
“Help!” yelled Debbie. “It’s ants with long fangs!”
No help in the form of, say, an anteater being around at the time, Debbie panicked and dived headfirst under the picnic tablecloth, where she waved two shapely legs very wildly in the air—until a sense of dignity overcame a sense of flustered retreat. Whereupon Debbie sat up. Who won the day, Debbie or the ants?
“I won,” said Debbie, “I’m sitting on them, and if every ant isn’t as flat as a pancake then my eight stone two pounds counts for absolutely nothing.”
After spending quite a while seeing as much as she could see in America, blonde RUTH BENNET made tracks for home, and home is Britain. We don’t know exactly how Ruth looked before she went to the States, but she certainly looks a gorgeous doll now she’s back.
For those who want to know how she’s shaped up to the American way of life, Ruth’s current statistics are 37-23-36.
It’s a fallacy that fellers don’t make passes at girls in glasses—when girls in glasses are as attractive as LORRAINE BURGE. Lorraine works in an income tax department, where all the girls naturally have very taking ways. We’ll pay up with pleasure when our demand comes from Lorraine.
