It’s ANNE MATTINGLEY who’s having trouble with the steps during her week-end choring.
Anne, a bachelor girl, can get tangled with a pair of steps as prettily as any other brunette. If you don’t believe it, send us photographs to illustrate exactly why you don’t.
Two peaches make an adorable pair. Especially two peaches like NICOLA TAYLOR and JOANNA YOUNG, happy housewives of Bournemouth who still believe in the mini. From left to right, Nicola is the first peach, Joanna the second.
First Peach: "I don't know what I'm going to do if the midi does take over. It'll cost me a fortune."
Second Peach: "Me too. And the bus conductors are going to be ever so gloomy."
First Peach: "Especially the one on the No. 42. He hasn't looked at my face for ages."
Second Peach: "Nor mine. When I came down the stairs.”
First Peach: Yesterday he said he liked me best in the frilly pink ones I was wearing the day before." "Well, when Mary Pipkin came down the stairs last week he rang the bell six times and fell off the bus."
Second Peach: "Isn't he a giggle?"
First Peach: "You mean goggle, darling."
Second Peach: "Don't look now but here comes the park-keeper wearing his binoculars."
Well that’s what Maggie McCully said when she fell half way down the stairs. It's not so much a matter of stripes as of legs, really, but as Maggie's sweater is just as eye-catching as her legs, who cares to define the difference?
Just to confirm how cute is the sweater, here are a couple of shots of Maggie’s stripes in close-up. These indicate that if Maggie has anything in common with a zebra, it’s nothing that makes us prefer the latter.
Stripes apart, these pictures tell you exactly why Maggie wins every leg competition she enters—and you can say that again and mean it.
Anytime you spot a picture on the stairs which is as good as any picture of Maggie on the stairs, we’d like to know about it. We’d hate to miss any picture as good as Maggie makes.
Well, it’s nothing that isn’t on for girls everywhere, it’s a date with a boyfriend. One's only problem if the boyfriend comes into the spectacular class is to ensure making a spectacular impact.
Girl getting ready to dazzle her date is JEAN STEWART, and whether her date comes into the spectacular class or not, we know from sheer diabolical experience that when a pretty girl really tries to slay a guy, the guy can expect that when they do meet in the foyer he’s going to be the one to fall flat on his face.
This is nothing to be ashamed of. Quite the reverse. Every time any guy falls flat on his face apropos above it’s a happy indication that he’s susceptible in the very nicest kind of way.
It might hurt but you can live with that kind of hurt.
Up in places like Braemer they have all those Highland Games each year, and lovely Scottish girls like JANE PAUL are seen around. They make a svelte contrast with all the muscle men. The latter may be able to toss a mighty caber, but Jane can throw a husky six-footer with a mere twinkle of her kneecaps.
"Lassie, would ye no, mind standing farther back?" panted one brawny caber competitor.
"Must I?" said Jane.
"Aye, ye must, lassie, or I'll lose my dynamics and do masel' an injury."
"Oh, dear, everyone's so tense," said Jane, and went away.
Well, you can't mess about with cabers. You've got to be tense.
We found some London views we thought you'd like. There were some nice ones, for instance, of MARGARET SUMNER.
Margaret is a receptionist at an exclusive sauna bath establishment in the West End and lives in a Hampstead flat.
A secretary has to dress well, you know. In the old days, they used to make do with hairpins, hatpins, cuffed blouses and stiff skirts. Not just on one day, but every day. The boss was never distracted from his work but he often got slightly depressed.
It’s different today. Secretary DIANE CLARKE, going along with the modem tradition that secretaries should look elegant and glamorous, spends most of her money on clothes and when there’s a bargain buy in the offing at one of her favourite stores, she’s right there to sort out something breathtakingly exciting.
Little muted cries of delight, muffled gasps of exaltation. “Oh, that’s a dream, and that’s an enchantment and if I don’t look simply scintillating in the coffee-cream I’ll never look anything in anything.”
Yes, but don’t stand about, darling, get home early tomorrow before they shut.
“What, when they’re sold out? Wouldn’t dream of it. Look, you go and get me a flask of hot coffee and some smoked salmon sandwiches and I’ll stay here and be first in the queue for tomorrow morning.”
Girls are mad, aren’t they?
It wasn't half rough. The wind was whistling and cutting little old ladies in half, practically.
Student CHERRY LENNOX of Edinburgh was caught in the teeth of it, as it were. Och, what a wee howling gale. Took her kilt right off. In the nick of time, as it were, she found shelter in an old Scottish roundhouse, whatever that is. Probably similar to a Kentish hophouse.
Anyway, it served to keep the worst of the chilly breezes at bay for Cherry. And while she was able to hold on to her Scottish rainproof she felt she could endure all else, as it were. Even the loss of her kilt.
Whipped off by a quirk of the whistling wind, it was, and went sailing over heather and burn, it did. Never mind, there's always a silver lining. It just showed how perfectly intriguing Cherry's patterned stockings were.
On a day when whistling wind equals student sans kilt in a cold climate, things aren't wholly miserable. And if Cherry can laugh about it, so can you.
With a modelling appointment for half-past ten in the morning at Portsmouth, it was unfortunate for DAWN WILLIAMS that the mechanics of her wonky alarm clock broke down during the night. Dawn rose rather late.
The photographer, however, was ever so decent. As they couldn't make Portsmouth in time he said how about stopping off near Guildford and doing some lovely countryside shots instead, and Dawn said she couldn't think of anything more rapturous.
It was hard luck on the Portsmouth naval types, however. They'd have appreciated seeing Dawn around.
Sitting very pretty indeed is BRIDGET KILDARE, girl with very distinctive eye appeal in her black boots and brief mini.
Bridget makes a lovely secretary and if you know a more enchanting blonde to go with a desk and a typewriter you must be really living.
At five feet five with vital statistics of 36-23-36, Bridget must just about be everybody's idea of the perfect picture for the camera you had for Christmas.
What I can’t understand (said elegant beautician ADRIENNE HOUSTON to her friend, Maggie) is that every time I go out to look my best for SPICK, I seem to get as involved as a cross-country runner and how my nylons and frillies survive it all is a miracle.
Miss Houston, worry not, you look delightful.
"Please, may I look through your files?" asked DAGMAR KELLER of the basement library clerk.
"How can I say no?" replied the clerk faintly. "The only thing is I'm dead mortified I can't stay and help, only it's me lunch break and I've got a chick to share me hardboiled eggs with."
Off he went. It was hot and stuffy, so Dagmar shed a few things and with a fascinating searching look went in discovery of something we're a bit vague about ourselves.
It was all part of her secretarial duties.
The boss rang down from the sixth floor and said don't take all day. Miss Dagmar. He asked her if she wanted any assistance.
"No thanks, I'm not dressed for it” said Dagmar blushingly.
"What's she talking about?" muttered the boss as he hung up.
This file was interesting. It was all about a consignment of desert island concubines who got seasick on the way back to Palmtree Paradise.
Search over. Dagmar cooling off.
In came the library clerk full of hardboiled eggs to fall flat on his face.
So, would anyone.
This is another fairy story.
No matter how much television plays seek to befuddle you into believing there’s no such thing as a happy ending and that life for everybody is a lot of old boots, the fact is nice things do happen to people.
Princes and fairy queens and old harpies on broomsticks don’t play such impressive parts as they used to, but nevertheless, take the story off PINKY SANDS.
There she was, sitting home most nights and wondering what to do about life. Nothing fantastic ever seemed to happen and she couldn’t find a great deal of glamour in her typewriter, especially when it came to changing the ribbon.
Then a man who was photographing the bridesmaids at a wedding saw her looking long-legged and lovely among the guests and said, taking his eye off the bridesmaids so that they came out with their heads cut off, “You look like you ought to be a model, go and apply to an agency.”
So Pinky did just that and the agency said what a willowy wonder she was, and now Pinky rents a cosy little flat in town and is long-leggedly engaged in the glamour world of modelling. No wonder she’s perky.
A most photogenic asset to the office is TRUDI JACKSON, who works in Bournemouth. She is the personal secretary of a high-class businessman there, and, yes, he does know how lucky he is.
Whenever another businessman calls, he makes Trudi hide herself, because he has a kind of quivering certainty that friends and rivals alike would not hesitate to grab this deliciously efficient wonder girl for themselves. Trudi is an absolute dream of efficiency at every secretarial chore, and when you add all that to her sex appeal, you've got yourself an asset indispensable to the sweet flow of business life.
If you're looking for someone nice to have around the home, you could consider wooing Scottish dolly SUSANNE FERRIER.
Susanne is a dream girl when it comes to being lovely to look at and useful to know. Not only is she bonny and bouncy, she's a naturally inventive and accomplished cook. And you do like your food, don't you?
"Well, yes, I do rather," said the first feller to knock, "and am I to take it that Miss Ferrier is eligible?"
Eligible for what?
"For taking home to meet mother and then to the altar."
You'll be lucky. She's already engaged. She's got a lovely feller and he's six feet tall.
"Oh, well, count me out, but I thought I'd ask."
Of course. We did say wooing Susanne could be considered. It just can't come to anything, that's all.
