Sue Seymour

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It's a Great Life

You don’t have to wear a big Stetson and be a Texas oil millionaire to enjoy life. All that money helps, of course, but it’s not a necessity. As a millionaire you can own an ocean-going yacht and still get lost in a storm at sea, and what has life to offer you then if there’s no lifebelt in sight ?

You’d be better off as an ice-cream man on the beach at San Remo. Girl who doesn’t own any oil wells and only takes home what she earns as a shorthand-typist in a London office is SUE SEYMOUR. Life to Sue is simply great. She’s eighteen years old and she swings along with the London scene.

Big business executives work late and get ulcers Sue twists and shakes on the dance floor and has fun. She likes a game of tennis, a galloping horse and the deep end of a swimming pool.

Millionaires sweat over the tape machines and bite the ends off their Havana cigars over each share fluctuation. Sue carries on making the most of life, and in her gay pursuit of the great outdoor pleasures she takes her tent in case of rain.

The weather was fine on this occasion and if you know of a more idyllic combination than a tent, a quiet glade and sweet Sue, then don’t keep it to yourself.

Leonora Dietrich

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Achtung! There’s a man looking!

"Well, I don't know, some people,” said LEONORA DIETRICH, glancing curvily out of her West Berlin apartment window. "He's actually looking. Why doesn't he go away and take his ladder with him?"

What made her ask herself a question like that we don't know. What made her stand at the window like that we don't know either. Fresh air is all very well but you need to be dressed for it.

"Go away," she called.

"Eh?" said the man on the ladder. He was nearly falling off it.

"If you don't go away,” said Leonora, “I’ll call the police.”

"I don't care if they do lock me up,” said the goggle-eyed Berliner,”l'm not moving yet. I'm waiting for the matinee."

So Leonora went and hoity-toitily phoned the police. And the police came around and joined the man on the ladder. Leonora looked out of her window again and they all had a lovely matinee show.

Marie Graham

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Look, What About My Legs?

"Eh ?" said Higgins the butcher.

“You heard,"said housewife MARIE GRAHAM. "What about my legs ?"

"Lovely," said Mr. Higgins.

"I ordered a leg of pork and a leg of lamb," said Mrs. Graham, "so where are they ?"

"Oh, them legs," said Mr. Higgins.

"Yes, them legs,"said Mrs. Graham, "for my dinner party. Some like pork and some like lamb and I'm hoping to please them all."

"Well, tell you what, invite me," said Mr. Higgins, "and I'll bring the joints round myself."

"Oh, be my guest, do," said the lovely young housewife.

"I'll have beef myself," said Mr. Higgins, "so I'll bring a steak too."

Carol Barber

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Return of the Holding Gear

According to a British firm of lingerie manufacturers, the current trend points to the return of suspender belts. As skirt lengths drop to knee level, girls are beginning to wear stockings again, and the traditional holding gear is a must.

The trend is for frilly belts in startling colours, but black is still a favourite for slinky evening wear, as model CAROL BARBER illustrates.

Husbands are buying them for wives.

"What's this?" said Mrs. Newlywed to her adoring man when he presented her with a wicked red belt.

"To keep your nylons up," he said with a saucy grin.

"What's nylons ?" said the young lovely.

Debora Stewart

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Deb's Delight

If you’re reading the latest James Bond thriller, put it down for a moment and concentrate on DEBORA STEWART, who is our idea of the girl James would most like to read to him while recovering in hospital from being blown up by a load of Persian dynamite.

All that aside, the delight of Deb at this particular moment is her new mini-dress.

If you must know, it delights us too. Debbie looks so enchanting in it that irrespective of whether we’d been blown up by Persian dynamite or a Molotov cocktail, we’d like to have her to read to us too. It would be joy personified to our tender ears and it wouldn’t strain our eyes, either.

Well, you can’t help going overboard for the modern girl when they look so indescribably gorgeous. To think there were times when girls wore bustles and dim people didn’t even know how many legs they’d got. You couldn’t even see their shoes.

Of course you couldn’t, because they wore elastic-sided boots.

Dear Debbie, can we be your Valentine?

Maria Montez

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Mexican Dream

All the way from Mexico came a dream.

After the excitement of the Olympic Games there, MARIA MONTEZ couldn't settle to her work in a dress shop in Mexico City, so she came to Europe to participate in the happenings.

She finished up in London. The happenings in Paris and Rome were extremely Continental. Being pinched all the time was blush-making.

"And by perfect strangers, no doubt," said Sir Harry.

"Perfect? Senor," she said, "how can you say perfect when you mean naughty?"

"Ah, a good question," said Sir Harry.

"I do not mind a pinch here and there," said Maria, "but not by naughty men."

"I used to be naughty. I've grown out of it now," said Sir Harry.

Caroline Ford

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Ah Well, That’s, How It Is

It's neither amazing nor sensational now.

The topless look.

Girls are revelling in freedom from bras and corsets. Bosoms are out, like. But honestly, you don't know where to look at a party, do you? Be terrifying if the craze took on a blase, everyday phase. You know how one gets crammed up in a tube train. What on earth could you say to CAROLINE FORD if you found she had suddenly become your bosom friend on the rush hour Inner Circle line?

"What lovely weather. Miss Er—Um."

"I'm not Miss Er—Um, and would you mind not hanging your umbrella on me?"

"Oh, dreadfully sorry—"

"Now you've dropped something, you silly man."

"Oh, just my eyeballs."

Simply revelling in all that freedom is Caroline.

Jutta Srippipatana & Ingrid Stengert

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Come and Join Me

The dark girl is JUTTA SRIPPIPATANA and the blonde who came to join her is INGRID STENGERT, and they’re both models in West Berlin.

Susan Douglas

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How Do They Really Look?

Girl who wants to know how the modern equivalent of Amelia Bloomer’s reach-me-downs look on her is our inimitable SUSAN DOUGLAS.

We don’t want to publicise our own bias in the matter.

We leave it to you.

You say.

Helene Gibbs

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Getting Away

No, it wasn't that HELENE GIBBS was taken with a desire to get away from the pressures of London life. She's doing very well as a model, thank you, and is enjoying herself.

It just happened that when she was modelling stockings and suspenders in an outdoor location, some entranced cowboy from Texas became riveted.

"Well, I ain't seen a better looking filly since Thanksgiving," he said to the cameraman, "I reckon I'd trade a ranch for her to come home and cook for me."

"Do me a favour, eh ?" said the cameraman. "Shove off, eh?"

Texas swiped him with his stetson. He was that keen not to have any interruptions. Seeing how keen he was Helene got lost in the undergrowth, getting away from the prospects of slaving over a hot stove in Texas.

"I don't even like cooking," she said to a gooseberry bush.

Roz Barnwell

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There's Always Time For a Chat

Like any housewife, ROZ BARNWELL can always find time for a chat on the phone. It's nice to have friends who ring you up.

Roz is a pretty busy housewife, and a young mother too. Not only does she look after home, hubby and infant, she also holds down a secretarial job. And about once a week she does a modelling assignment. That just about makes her so versatile that she's almost a lovely miracle.

Other wives might buckle at the knees and start growing wrinkles and grey hairs, but Roz remains not just young but a delight to have around. She still likes the glamour of wearing stockings and suspenders, and if it weren't for the fact that the milkman has all his empties to look after he'd like to deliver four times a day to Roz's house. It's just joy to the eyes when she opens the door to take in her daily pint.

Sacha Michaelides

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From Cyprus

Ah, Cyprus. Island of rich wine and hot sun, sparkling jewel of Ancient Greece set in the wine-dark sea of Homer.

Of course, it's changed a bit since all those heroic Greeks chased the maidens from coast to coast.

The maidens are still enchanting but they get chased by tourists now.

Lovely SACHA MICHAELIDES used to work as a receptionist in a Cyprus hotel. There she took a great liking to tourists from Britain, especially the young and crazy buckeroos, and in the end decided to come to London. Now she's working in the offices of Cyprus sherry importers and has made the place intoxicating for the male staff.

It's no wonder those Ancient Greek heroes were always leaving Athens and rowing to Cyprus.

Lynn Palmer

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Call For Miss Palmer

It was nice and quiet until the phone rang in the conservatory. It was a call for LYNN PALMER. There was a loud voice at the other end wanting to know what had happened to the fish, had it been shot to death and when Lynn, a window-dresser, had no idea what the idiot was on about and said so.

'Look here' said the idiot. "you're not trying to tell me you're dead ignorant about fish are you? You're Mavis Palmer, known as Underwater Lulu aren't you? You catch fish and sell them, don't you? Well, come round to my place and look at this skate you sold me. It's gone green."

"You've got the wrong person. I'm Lynn Palmer and I've never caught a fish in my life."

"Oh. really?" said the nut. "Well, stay there. I'll be right round and we'll go angling together

Jane Miller

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Game for a Game

In a sort of slinky gym vest and black tights JANE MILLER went out for a gambol with her jump-ball.

Very sporty bird is Jane. Loves games and all that. Along came a walking-stick case, an old gent with gout. He took one look at Jane, a secretary in Kingston, Surrey, threw away his walking-stick and galloped gamely towards her.

Inevitably he fell flat on his face.

Jane picked him up, gave him back his stick and helped him into a wheelbarrow. As the gamekeeper wheeled him away she said farewell with a smile and a wave. It cheered him up no end.

Kirsten Veta

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Shy Swede

Nobody ever thought there was such a phenomenon as a shy Swede, but we found one in London last summer. KIRSTEN VETA.

She was over from Stockholm and was staying in Hampstead, where our photographer buttonholed her in his endearing way and persuaded her to leave some charming mementoes of herself before she went back home. Mementoes in the form of photographs.

Kirsten giggled, turned pink, turned around, turned pinker and so on. And there you are.