Roaring Twenties
/Four beautiful Berlin debs taking off the roaring twenties, make a very pretty picture indeed.
Four beautiful Berlin debs taking off the roaring twenties, make a very pretty picture indeed.
In the days when the West was won, it used to be boots and saddles and the sound of the bugles as the U.S. Cavalry came charging up to save the pioneers from being skewered to their waggon wheels by flaming arrows of fire or something.
That's all gone now. The pioneers have all struck oil and the Red Indians are doing their own thing, which is watching Geronimo on the telly.
Today for boots and saddles you can read boots and minis.
SANDRA MORRELL, winner of beauty contests, is all for boots and minis.
We're all for Sandra, she can look scintillating just lounging about.
HELENE GIBBS, arrived in London some several months ago. She didn't expect to make her fortune overnight, but did hope she'd be able to earn enough lolly to pay the rent of her little flat in Camden Town and keep her in food and clothing.
A dancer, Helene thought London's theatres and night clubs wouldn't actually be short of scintillating exponents of this art, and it was with surprise and delight that she found her talents accepted.
Now she's dancing nightly in cabaret. The lolly is lovely, so are the audiences.
At five feet six, with measurements of 37-24-36, Helene is lovely too, especially when photographed in the environs of leafy Hampstead.
It’s not the parasol that counts, it’s the girl. The girl is ANNETTE WILSON, the parasol is just some little thing she bought in a Local store when they were selling off during the summer rain. The truth is, in rain or shine, with or without parasol, Annette is a curvy, shapely pin-up, and if you met her on the beach or on a foggy day in London you’d find the day would look suddenly brighter. There are girls and girls—most of them undeniably attractive (for such is the way the modern misses are growing up these days)—and of many girls Annette can be counted among the tops. She’s a honey-blonde and measures 36"-23"-36".
Annette is a Scot and once she played the bagpipes. Some nearby Irishman complained so Annette hasn’t played them since.
Annette likes dancing, theatres, horse-riding. She is a dancer herself and has the long, graceful legs that make the best dancers so efficient and so eye-catching.
Annette also likes food. Growing girls mostly do. She favours no particular kind of cooking and can enjoy French, Italian, Spanish or Scottish dishes with equal relish. With a palate as cosmopolitan as that the capitals of Europe— and she’s been to most of them—can offer her all their own particular recipes with happy confidence that she’ll do them justice.
One of the leading lights of London at the moment is HELEN JONES. She's a genuine swinger. Wherever there's something going on that's at all worthwhile, you can bet your psychedelic pink shirt that Helen will be conspicuously ravishing.
She's a model with a big London agency and appeared in the film 'Love Variations'. That was a genuine swinger too.
Helen is twenty-one, lives in North London and is a music lover. She adores both classical and underground music.
Underground? You mean on a tube train?
"Great tombstones," said Helen "how long have you been dead?"
That, of course, proves that if you don't speak the language of the swingers you might as well spend your time in museums.
Ah well, you can always sort out a nice, sympathetic mummy to talk to.
Tall, bi-lingual, pro-debutante VANDA VANE-DOTSON is not among those photogenic girls who can’t resist the lure of becoming all willowy and glossy in the London fashion world.
For Vanda a flat in London is not to be compared with a Georgian house in the Sussex countryside. Let those who have to launch themselves into the traffic do so. Vanda opts for an open-air environment, where she’s got all the room she needs for horse-riding and whizzing around in her sports car. Speaking of cars, it isn’t every girl who can alight from a friend’s model and get a tight skirt caught in a tight door.
As Vanda said at the time, “It’s never like this with a horse. You can fall off a horse, certainly, and you can even rip your jodhpur’s, but nothing like this can happen to you.’’
Perhaps she’s right. But there’s a first time for everything, you know.
Boutiques are still in. Boutiques are where the teenagers congregate on Saturdays, filling the place with exuberant cries of “Oh Danny, just cast your optics at this crepe two-piece—isn’t it just the sharpest thing for dancing the hornpipe?” They don’t all talk like that, but it’s ear-binding to hear those that do.
MARILYN WARD hears it all the time. She runs a boutique in Bournemouth and if you want to see how she looks in a couple of the most delightful outfits available here’s your chance.
We can’t describe them, we don’t have the designer’s highly involved details, but since seeing’s believing don't ask for descriptions.
When a zip runs it really runs, and when is a mini not a mini?
When it’s worn as a shirt. We don’t know if you prefer Marilyn or the dresses, we like them like crazy all together.
The farmer's boy came whistling over the fields. He was carrying a haystack. He was a strong lad. Then he saw GAIL JOHNSON, an absolutely ravishing, blue-eyed blonde.
Gail thought she was all alone. She did wonder why a distant haystack looked as if it was moving about, but not being an agriculturalist she put it out of her mind.
It was a hot day and just right for gambolling about in undies. Then the haystack stopped moving and a face came out from under it. The face of the farmer's boy. Gail gave him one warning.
"Don't you dare look or I'll fire six rounds into you."
The farmer's boy couldn't help looking. Corks, what a peach, he thought. So, Gail fired six rounds. They thudded into the haystack. The farmer's boy was ever so relieved, any one of those rounds might have injured his appetite and he was looking forward to pork pie for supper.
"Missed me," he said.
Gail reloaded.
The farmer's boy knew when he was well off. He picked up the haystack and ran. He tripped over a furrow and the haystack fell on him.
"Serve him right," said Gail, "shouldn't have such goggle eyes."
Some husbands go off to football matches on Saturday afternoons, but Val's husband stays home to photo-graph her. What a way to make Saturday afternoons full of light and joy. Better than all that mud flying about and somebody bashing you over the head on the way out.
Some husbands have the oddest hobbies, like stripping wallpaper or collecting whizzbangs. (Whizzbangs are fiery blondes whom they hide in the garden shed hoping their wives won't notice).
Well, now, isn't it lovely that VALERIE HOOTON has a husband with the most ravishing hobby? His hobby is Valerie. What a smashing feller. What a hubby, what a hobby.
Val's ambitions, apart from maintaining her position as hubby's hobby, are to travel extensively and to learn to ski. Imagine all that lovely snow and sun, and Val as well.
Val has a hobby of her own. Frank Sinatra. Only on records, of course. And she likes eating out. That's not a hobby, however, that's a way of life.
Housewives have stopped being mere wielders of brooms. Now they're sexy and glamorous, like Val. Before she was married Val used to be a secretary. Now she's a housewife, a mother and an absolute doll. Naturally, you'd all like to have a hobby just like Val, but you need to be tall, dark and handsome, of course.
In fact, we’re absolutely positive that ROSANNE STUART is just the girl we’d most like to get lost in the woods with. Well, she used to be a really keen girl guide and knows all the best ways of tracking through the bracken.
No, it’s all right, we don’t want to get out.
We like being lost.
The lingerie look is one that certainly suits JULIE SCOTT. As for colour, you can take your choice of black or white. Julie herself prefers to put the accent on sophistication in black.
But, being delightful to know as well as lovely to look at, Julie compromises in black with a touch of white.
Personally, we think the colour is immaterial— it’s the design that counts. Julie’s original design is blueprinted at 36"-24"-36".
Irish from top to toe is BRIDGET McKENNA. Bridget is from Dublin, and there aren't any dollies more Irish than those from that city.
However, there's a great big world always waiting to put out the carpet for green-eyed Irish shapes, so for the time being Bridget is taking a look at London.
London is taking a look at her in return. It's a fair exchange, except that a lot of old buildings and bridges can't always be equated with a curvy Irish shape of 37-24-36. But Bridget is settling for that.
“Now just to settle an argument readers, which do you think are the most attractive? You know, we sisters have terrible rows over which is best.”
“Like I was saying, some prefer white, others prefer black.
“But the best way is to put it to the readers.
“Black stockings, black underwear, black suspenders, or flesh coloured nylons, garters and white undies?"
“I'm sure we can safely leave it to you though, can’t we? ‘Over to You’ Your vote will decide."
Petite ANN WILLIAMS it only 5' 3” but every inch is brimming full of talent for Ann is a pop singer all set to make herself easy on the ear of every disc fan. Ann knew what she wanted to be when she was only two, for at that age she was singing to customers in shops, where her mother sat her on the counter while she searched for pink hair ribbon— or should we say pink ribbon for fair hair?
Fashions aren't going to make any difference. The 1970's are still going to be remembered for the impact made on life by the dolly girls. The reason for this, Hutchinson, is that by 1951 girls had awakened to the realisation that the bikini had masterminded them into superiority.
After the advent of the bikini, boys no longer wanted to grow up and be engine- drivers. They just wanted to grow up so that they could have a bikini girl all their own. From the bikini girl there graduated the dolly girl who dominated the 1960 s. And she came to stay.
We know a gorgeous one called JUDY RUSSELL, who lives in London and is going to remain brilliantly im- pactive whether she's in a mini or a midi. We're not too sure ourselves. If all that lovely dolly girl disappears under a heap of clothes that reach to her calves, where's the impact?
"It's in the way we'll keep you guessing," said Judy, a short hand- typist in the City of London.