Born twenty years ago in Yugoslavia, VESALINKA STEVANOVICH is now domiciled in England. She works in Bristol and now has her eye on a modelling career. Her vital statistics are 36-24-36 and you can see what a charming outdoor vista she makes.
Another unforgettable secretary we know is SARA MARSDEN of Essex, and the sun has an appeal for her to.
Sara likes to acquire a golden tan before she goes on holiday, so that when she arrives in Spain or Italy or Sardinia, she's already on her way to the kind of tan that will make her glow until Christmas.
The leafy woods of Essex are her week-end habitat, which is Latin for rural retreat in Sara's case. She loves beat groups and dancing, she's a natural swinger and has classical vitalistics of 36-23-36.
In the Portobello Road, site of the famous London market, you can find BETTINE PARMENTIER helping her mother at their antiques stall. Bettine isn't just a pretty face—
"All right, don't be superfluous," said Fred.
Bettine is a real help. Her knowledge of antiques would hold any collector spellbound, especially if he liked girls as well as old doorknockers.
When she's not at the stall, Bettine is travelling around the country looking for bargains, and many an old gentleman owning a Boer War assegai has been induced to discuss a sale over a cup of country tea.
"Tell her to come round and see me," said Fred, "I don't have no assegai but I don't half make intoxicating tea."
A girl of today is SAMANTHA BOND, a lover of pop music and everything else that makes life a lovely giddy whirl of fun and fantasy.
Not for Samantha are the prophets of gloom. She's only got to give one of them that flashing smile of hers and he's a changed prophet.
"Ye gods," he'll say, "those ivory-white teeth, darling, are they the result of being so healthy and happy ?"
"No, just that extra-special double-mint whiteness that comes from using Crystal- Foam toothpaste with formula WGYF added," says Samantha.
"What's WGYF?" asks the entranced prophet.
"We've Got You Fooled," says Samantha.
At the motor show they were all hustling and bustling to get closer to models with the most modern lines.
And wherever model MONIKA DIETRICH went the crowds were sure to go. Monika came to Britain from Germany a few years ago and now lives in London, where she’s working in TV commercials and making film appearances. And in this appearance at the motor show she was more sensational than automobiles that fold up for parking in a pantry.
In any case, only a car with a chassis that measures 39"-23"-36" has any real chance of being as sensational as Monika.
The gas man came to call.
Afterwards he wished he hadn't.
The dolly who rented the apartment was sensational. So much so that she hurt his eyes and the only way he could get rid of the agony was to put his head in the gas oven and look for a leak.
While he was trying to get himself all oblivious in this way, the utterly sensational dolly, WANDA LIDDELL, made a phone call. The gas man didn't participate in the ensuing phone chat at all, but there was this ringing in his ears all the time.
When he got back to the gas works he told the foreman not to send him there any more, it hurt too much. The intrigued foreman went round to see for himself.
Wanda, a green-eyed London bird, answered the door and immediately there was this ringing in the foreman's ears. His leg hurt too. Wanda had closed the door on it. She can recognise a foreman when she sees one.
Coming Your Way, Cobbers
For some time now VICKI ASHLEY has been awaiting her emigration papers. She applied to go to Australia and by now should be on her way.
We thought we'd let you know, cobbers. There must be quite a few Down Under who don't want to miss her. These pictures of Vicki were taken in the autumn and we don't honestly think she'll have changed much by the time she lands in all that sunshine. There may be quite a few others who'll land with her, so just for the record she'll be the brown-eyed one measuring 37-23-36. But don't start checking up with your tape measure or big as you are you'll get socked.
Vicki was a manicurist before she became a model, so if any Aussie wants his nails trimmed and his cuticles looking nice, Vicki's your girl. Only bow from the waist down first as she likes all fellers to be gentlemen. Don't try throwing her over your horse and galloping off to the outback with her. She'll conk you silly with a collapsible hammer she carries.
On Stage, Luv
It was ever so friendly when HERTA MICHAELIDES from Cyprus appeared for her first part on the London stage.
She was waiting with nervous trepidation for the curtain to go up, and then this friendly voice called, "On stage, luv." Herta liked that. In Cyprus and Greece, they use a different expression, one which roughly translated means, "Come on, get a Grecian move on."
Herta has spent most of her nineteen years in Cyprus, where she was born of an English mother and a Greek father. Now she is in London, living in Pimlico with her English husband and working in the theatre. She's hoping for utterly dramatic things to happen, although she's willing to wait a while to appear with the great Olivier.
She's nice, is Herta.
We’ve had lodgers we didn’t even know about until they started leaving notes complaining about the motor in the fridge, and we’ve had lodgers whom we’ve had to way lay on the stairs and speak sternly to about getting their hair cut.
We’ve never had a lodger like DIANA REED. We suppose we must have done something that made us undeserving of same. Diana has a cute apartment in London, and with her experience of interior decorating her own flair here is for the unconventional contemporary (whatever that is)—she naturally keeps the whole thing looking dizzy.
Diana also likes cultivating rare potted plants and keeps tropical fish.
Some of the lodgers we’ve had would have eaten both.
Just a lot of dull, dim savages, mate?
While we're on the subject of glamorous wives, here's one who lives in the country.
She's JENNY PIPER, a golden blonde.
Jenny had quite a career going when she was a bachelor girl. She gave it all up to settle down in a country cottage when she got married, and the fortunate feller who married her made a lovely speech all about how paradise had arrived.
Well, what with roses round the door and Jenny around the kitchen, you couldn't call it anything -else but paradise. It's the sort of thing that makes the cynics go off their own egos.
It was four o'clock on a Saturday afternoon when Gus left home. He left a note to say he'd gone to the Lake District. It was there, he said, that he'd first seen BARBARA SCHWARZ, who'd come over from the Continent to see Lake Windermere and had stayed to become an au pair girl there.
Gus's father said Gus could stew in his own juice. He'd never met Barbara himself and thought she was like the rest of Gus's dream girls— undistinguished.
Then Gus sent home a picture postcard of Barbara. Mother said, "Oh, my word." Father said, ' Crikey.” He sent a telegram to Gus. "Come home—all is forgiven Stop bring her with you.”
Gus wrote back and said he would if he could, but that Barbara hadn't even noticed him yet. Please send a fiver.
Continental au pair girls make dreamy picture postcards.
Any girl anywhere couldn't look dreamier than Barbara looks here. Want to bet?
Ornamental cat charm is personified in this elongated statue of a Siamese puss.
The lady in the picture is SALLY McGREGOR.
She's a sweet puss herself. It’s probably true that most women are purringly feline, and Sally says no one would purr more than she would if she could slip into a mink coat.
What about scratching?
"Certainly,” said Sally, "I'll do your back if you'll do mine." Purr, purr.
Some privileged guy called Willi Fritz, we think, is on the receiving end of this phone call from NINA WARTENBURG, blonde Berlin secretary who's wearing the boots to keep her toes warm.
We hope Willi is sufficiently appreciative of how attractive his caller is, even if Nina is only ringing to tell him to send over a small joint of Dutch veal. In fact, we hope any butcher's boy appreciates a pretty secretary as much as he does a young calf.
As sparkling as clear champagne is CRYSTAL FARMER, secretary and glamour girl.
It's a pity fellers can't win beautiful brides like Crystal in a decent competition, where if you can think of a suitable slogan for hot chestnuts, and send it in with three coupons, you stand a fair chance of winning.
Of course, you can't put birds in a lottery, it would send Women's Libbers raving bonkers— and cross as well—but if you could and if you did, who'd bother about football pools?
No one, if they stood a chance of winning a bride as gorgeously set-up as our Crystal.
When she left Hamburg some time ago to come to England, VICKY LANDAU thought well, it won't be long before I'm back, there's my dog Rupert and Willi Albrecht from the shipping company, they're both lovely.
But now Rupert the dog and Willi the shipper are both just a memory. Vicky is still here, established in a cosy flat in London and earning her keep by lucrative modelling jobs.
"Naturally," said Vicky in her fluent native tongue to Nigel Merry-weather in a London pub, "I shall go back one day, probably when I've made my fortune."
"Could you speak in English,” said Nigel, "as I only speak German like an incoherent Italian in a wine barrel."
"Oops, you are so funny," said Vicky.
"Actually," said Nigel, "I'm dead serious, you're the most devastating bird I've ever met, and I tell you frankly. I've got designs on you. Have two more double Scotches,"
"I think," said Vicky, "that you are trying to get me drunk.”
"I'll be truthful," said Nigel, "I'm that kind of rotter."
"Englishmen," murmured Vicky, "are fascinating but much too naughty," And she poured her drink down his shirt front and then conked him with a German candlestick she always carries in her handbag.
