Kim Foster

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Just The Spot

So, said KIM FOSTER when her bubble car gave out adjacent to a secluded glade, because it could have happened halfway round Piccadilly Circus.

If a beautiful girl like Kim has to take an enforced rest, Piccadilly Circus is just not the place. But this is.

Kim’s a showgirl, and in the showgirl tradition has the longest and shapeliest legs, as well as beautiful blue eyes.

As soon as Kim settled down to get her knees brown, however, the glade suddenly wasn’t so secluded any more. An ice-cream man came up and tried to sell her a lolly, and a guy driving a furniture van stopped to ask her the time.

The seniors and prefects from the nearby college came out early from college and wouldn’t go home to tea. A young man on a bicycle offered her a meat sandwich and an old man on a horse offered her a lift. It’s fun being young and beautiful.

Lili Reuter

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Then The Tide Came In

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.

Jane Rennie and Cherie Scott

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Gamesmanship

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.”

Susan Douglas

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Where Are The Elements

It doesn't matter all that much where they are, if they aren’t with us now they will be any moment. They've got a habit of not leaving us alone for too long, and since SUSAN DOUGLAS is well aware of this, she’s gotten herself self well equipped to cope with them.

Apropos the wind and the rain, of course. Susan is just the girl we wouldn’t mind being cast adrift with in a boat to the fair isles of sunshine and coconuts and nobody else.

Toni Searle

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The Difference is a Fine One

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.

Christine Porter

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Late Date

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.

Leslie Peters and Jane Rennie

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Ouch…..

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.

Margaret Coates

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Efficiency Experts

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.

June Palmer

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This is Glamour

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.

Nicola Taylor

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Anyone Feel Dizzy ?

According to her fans, NICOLA TAYLOR turns them all on, and there's hardly a day goes by without some entirely susceptible Charley boy doesn't spin round until he drops.

Nicola is a Hampshire girl with her own way of looking lovely. She simply remains herself.

There was a sensitive baby elephant which spent all its growing years trying to look like a bunch of flowers. It didn't create any real impact, and one day when it emerged from the river looking exactly like a growing baby elephant, an American lady tourist said, "Oh, how cute, can I buy that one?"

The baby elephant was happy ever after.

There you are, then. If you're lovely in your own way, be like Nicola and the baby elephant. Just remain yourself and don't grow a beard.

Susanne Kent

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Coming Along Nicely

Those finishing schools in Switzerland are all very popular, of course, and when they turn a girl out—if you’ll pardon the phrase—she is usually perfectly equipped to cope with all the trials and tribulations of hard, practical life.

But mostly the first thing the girls want to know about concerns parties.

There were parties for SUSANNE KENT, naturally, and all bang-up and on the ball. There was the future to consider, of course, but that was something to be thought about tomorrow or the day after.

And what else does any ambitious girl want to do except modelling? She has to give the matter no thought at all—it just comes naturally.

If you can’t be a model, you can be a secretary. After that, there’s just nothing. Hardly any girl wants to be a film star these days. Of course, there are those who like to see their pictures up outside cinemas, but it’s not the same as it used to be.

Susanne went for modelling and we’re happy to report that in this sphere she’s coming along nicely.

Nancy Sinatra

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Here Come Those Boots

That was the day.

Down the steps from the airliner they came, polished, gleaming and pointing. Encased in them were the shapely legs of NANCY SINATRA, and by the time they reached ground level the photographers were already putting their elbows in the other feller's eye. Word having got around that Nancy had arrived in London, loud were the cries of “Come on, Nancy, walk right over me, baby—I want to show your boot marks to my best friends

Ooh-oh.

Serve the fool right. He should have known it was going to hurt.

Nancy took it all in her stride. What a girl. What boots.

Ooh-oh.

Jenny Price

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Lovely & Learned

Anyone can be an egghead. All you need is the right kind of brain and a fixation on philosophy or economics or the kings of ancient Thebes. In that way, you not only become an egghead but because of your great learning you’re an old fogey before you’re thirty. You can’t talk about anything except logarithms or Theseus or Queen Nefertiti.

Cardiff student unlikely to ever turn into an egghead or a fogey is JENNY PRICE. She’s simply too dishy. There are female eggheads who wander around museums looking at Egyptian mummies, but that’s not for Jenny. She’s going to be a cool, elegant, indispensable, photogenic secretary.

Thank goodness for that.

Marion McGregor

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Breezy

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?

Joan Paul

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Mini-Mania

It’s not something you need go to a psychiatrist about. JOAN PAUL doesn’t, but some people do.

“Rest comfortably on the couch, please. Comfy? Nice and relaxed? Good. Now then, what’s the trouble?”

“I’ve got a mania.’’

“Oh, have you? So have I. I was thinking of going to a psychiatrist about it.” “But you’re a psychiatrist yourself.”

“I can’t help that, we’ve all got our problems. Now about my mania—it comes over me mostly in the park.”

“Excuse me, but I’m the patient, it’s my mania I’ve come to discuss with you, not yours. Look, see that, I’ve got one leg in the air.”

“Is that your mania?”

“No, that’s my cramp. My mania is to do with mini-skirts. The whole thing is a terrible worry to me and I can’t sleep at nights.”

“Why is it such a worry?”

“I keep thinking they’ll go out of fashion. Ouch, there goes my cramp again.”

When one realises just how scintillating Joan is in her mini, one can’t help sympathising with all men who worry about when it will all end.