Heather Piercy

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Designing Dolly

In years to come posterity will have its say about the mini-skirt, but at the moment we’re only concerned with its maddening eye-appeal and how vital and alive the feminine leg seems in it.

Girl who wears her minis very short indeed is London dress designer HEATHER PIERCY, and she wears them this way to please her boyfriend. It goes without saying that all other boys have no objections, either, and Heather can now tell by the particular key in which a wolf whistle is pitched the exact extent of the whistler’s approval. Heather is magnificently and uninhibitedly typical of every mini-skirted dolly of London the difference being that she happens to be a designing one.

She can come and design for us—we have ideas for a country mansion, a villa in Portofino and a yacht in Cannes we’d like her to start on. That should keep her within eyesight for quite a while. We don’t know what we’d do with the designs, but we’d worry about that later.

Jane Dixon

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Oh, Those Irish Eyes

Some Irish housewives have got a lovely way of frying bacon; others have the most bewitching way of looking all cuddly.

We know a very bewitching Irish housewife. She's JANE DIXON.

Her way of bewitching a feller is to flash her Irish eyes at him. Irish eyes are soft, limpid, saucy and provoking. You can write poetry about them and get ten marks out ten from teacher for same.

You can certainly write poetry about Jane, and don't be put off by her trendy see-through. Keep looking into her eyes until you go all glazed and then you'll be in the mood to write the dreamiest poetry ever.

It doesn't have to rhyme; it just has to have a lilting flow.

Marie Fitzgerald

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Delightful Dolly

Hampshire secretary MARIE FITZGERALD loves all the mini fashions and lace-up boots.

We love all the mini fashions too, and go overboard for secretaries in lace-up boots. With all the worries, we’ve got about the bomb, Vietnam and Rhodesia we need such diversification as the sight of mini dollies tripping lightly past our windows. We can’t spend all our time mentally agonising over the stupidity of so many.

Sally Dixon

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Kitchen Chores

It's all right for some. Some have au pair girls to use a broom for them.

But SALLY DIXON, university student, has to do ail her own chores in her London fiat and one place she likes to keep spotless is her kitchen, she being a girl who spends a lot of time in it. She's a marvel at making up exotic dishes out of homely ingredients bought at the nearby Street market.

She's also a marvel at modelling in her spare leisure hours, so that she can occasionally buy her-self a luscious steak and cook it Chinese style. You eat it with Chinese crackers.

Sylvia Martin

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Flutterer

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.

Nicky Weston

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Have Yen, Will Travel

Fashion and photographic model NICKY WESTON has one ambition above all others, and that’s to travel all over the world in her work. Nicky is just twenty and like so many fashion models can be seen adding glamour to the motor racing circuits. She also looks cool on a gee-gee, being uncommonly addicted to hacking.

Teri Alexander

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How Delightful

She took a course of social psychology last winter and she’s got eyes the colour of the deep green sea, and what with that and the fact that she doesn’t half know how to make the most of a crepe suzette, she’s naturally the girl we’d most like to be psychological with.

Her name, as if that mattered, is TERI ALEXANDER and we’ve fallen down four flights of stairs for girls only half as good-looking. It’s all part of the process of living. If you’re not susceptible to the witchery of women you shouldn’t be here. It hurts, of course, but the dreams are delightful.

Before she joined a fashion, house Teri worked as a secretary. She used to live in Manchester. Now she lives in London.

Swingy, isn’t she?

Who wants to join the Bengal Lancers these days?

Rosanne Stuart

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In A Scottish Garden

Frustrated geography, what you miss being on the wrong side of the border.

All that lovely Scottish heather and all those bonny birds are not the daily delight of those whose eyes are bounded by Portobello Road. As you dally on the kerbside looking for a bargain in old Victoriana, how you must wish you were in a Scottish garden with ROSANNE STUART.

If you don’t wish that, then old Victoriana has got a neurotic hold on you and you'll only cure yourself by butting sandbags. Wait until it leaves off and then give yourself another twenty-four hours to clear your head of ringing noises.

You’re cured. You begin to think of a Scottish garden adorned by sweet Rosanne.

Soon you can think of nothing else. You’re all neurotic again.

You return to that heap of sandbags.

Life for people with complexes is all butt.

Maria Lynley

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Happy Housewives

For all the X-minus fellers who don't have a housewife of their own, our sympathy is unqualified.

They're missing all that is loveliest in life.

We know the most attractive Leicester housewife. She's not only glamorous, she can't half cook too. Her name is MARIA LYNLEY and the man in her life is so appreciative of his good luck he sends her picture postcards when they're on holiday together.

Some men prefer to have model train sets. Mr. Lynley prefers to have Maria. What an acquisition.

Jo Fowler

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It Had To Happen

It always does. Happily humming to herself, JO FOWLER set about finding a place for a picture in her husband's new residence in France, where he now works. You can see what happened. It always does.

Crystal Farmer

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Holiday Romance

When she's out in the sun CRYSTAL FARMER is a real shiner. Next to a romantic midnight-blue sky complete with silver moon, the sun is Crystal's favourite element.

Off to Europe soon, for a summer holiday wander. Crystal is taking a girlfriend in order to outnumber any Latin Romeo who tries to surround her.

Not that she objects to a holiday romance. Just that she likes to get to know a nice feller first and can't stand those who, fat and forty, think they're irresistible to Anglo-Saxon femmes.

And being surrounded by someone fat and forty isn't Crystal's idea of a light-hearted romance.

Leslie Langham

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The Problem of a Mini

I'm LESLIE LANGHAM.

I live in North London, it’s rather super there and some of the boys are awfully good at Whistling. I suppose they’re training to be football referees. I have a most interesting job. I’m a demonstrator of office equipment. That’s where I find a mini-skirt has its problems. Whenever I’m demonstrating a desk with self-locking keyholes, I seem to be all legs. I’m always saying, “Oh, pardon me,’’ and adjusting my skirt, but everyone is awfully sweet and office managers never seem to mind a bit.

I have to be with it, of course. I can’t not wear a mini, it would be an unbearable drag to dress in trousers, but sometimes I’m not sure if office managers are paying proper attention to my demonstration of an electric typewriter.

It’s very flattering, I must say.

Mrs Burley

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Kitchen Capers

(or - Don’t Shoot The Cook, She’s Too Beautiful)

When Mr. Burley, a keen amateur photographer, who hails from Brixton, London, sent us some photographs of his lovely wife, we were so impressed by the discrimination he showed in picking a girl like this to wed, that we sent our own photographer along to provide additional evidence.

We didn’t arrive at the best time. Well, it wasn’t the best time for blonde and beautiful Mrs. Burley, who was choring in the kitchen—no girl likes to be caught in her apron— but it didn’t take us long to realise that there’s no time like the present, and could the lady have looked any lovelier without her apron, anyway? A moot point, that, and one on which we will not linger.

Mrs. Burley, do you always dress in this cute outfit when you’re working in the kitchen—or is it that we just caught you on the wrong day?

Well, no-well, yes—well, I like to look glamorous in my kitchen, particularly on Wednesdays, which are half days, of course.

But today is Thursday—

Is it? Oh, well excuse me a moment while I lift Mrs. Beeton off the biscuit tin.

No, but really, Mrs. Burley — hold that a moment — you really are the cutest kitchen maid we’ve seen in years.

Well, thanks. For that you can stay and have some coffee, if you like.

Would you like to sit on your kitchen table, Mrs. Burley? With pleasure—but may I ask what for?

Because it's always been a crazy idea of ours that there are so many things which photograph better on a kitchen table than cups, saucers and toast-racks, and now we see you there we know it wasn’t such a crazy idea at that.

Well, we finally went away with the feeling that we’d shot off a lot of very attractive photographs, and it wasn’t until we’d gone about five miles in the trolley-bus that we realised we'd left Mrs. Burley to do the washing-up by herself. Never mind. She did it all with such a sweet smile.

Jackie Ross

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Trendy Traveller

It was a long way from Manchester to London when salesgirl JACKIE ROSS set out for the big city. Well, it's a long way from anywhere when you have to walk. Passing the railway station Jackie thought she'd do it the easy way, so she bought a ticket and caught a train.

She met an awfully nice feller on the train. He shared a packet of biscuits with her. But when he said that his wife didn't understand him Jackie knew there was only one thing to tell him.

"I'm not surprised," she said, "you're all over biscuits crumbs."

Jackie came to London to find work as a model. She hardly needed to look because enterprising photographers found her first. Naturally, who could miss such a beautiful brunette with a figure of 38-24-37

Irene Oberzig

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Tres Tricky

There was once a feller called Buck Upp who tried to drink a quart of beer out of a Christmas balloon but it blew up in his unprepared kisser and squirted light ale all down the neck of his hunting shirt.

There was also the girl in the skirt and Hungarian petticoats who said “I bet I can squeeze through a small hoop feet first in five seconds.” And she did but it took a lot longer than five seconds and she didn’t half look pretty.

People like to try things the tricky way, it’s a bit of a gamble that we all enjoy. For instance, the trickiest place in which to change a pair of nylons is the driving seat of a car. West Berlin fraulein, IRENE OBERZIG, tried it and proved it.

She could have gone into her office and used the powder room and changed in comfort, but no, in the tradition of Buck Upp and the man who tried to lasso an elephant with his braces, Irene used the front seat of her car. Oh well, they will do it.

What made her fall down afterwards?

It was all that cramp.