Petite ANN WILLIAMS it only 5' 3” but every inch is brimming full of talent for Ann is a pop singer all set to make herself easy on the ear of every disc fan. Ann knew what she wanted to be when she was only two, for at that age she was singing to customers in shops, where her mother sat her on the counter while she searched for pink hair ribbon— or should we say pink ribbon for fair hair?
As far as I am aware this was the only calendar that ToCo Published.
Fashions aren't going to make any difference. The 1970's are still going to be remembered for the impact made on life by the dolly girls. The reason for this, Hutchinson, is that by 1951 girls had awakened to the realisation that the bikini had masterminded them into superiority.
After the advent of the bikini, boys no longer wanted to grow up and be engine- drivers. They just wanted to grow up so that they could have a bikini girl all their own. From the bikini girl there graduated the dolly girl who dominated the 1960 s. And she came to stay.
We know a gorgeous one called JUDY RUSSELL, who lives in London and is going to remain brilliantly im- pactive whether she's in a mini or a midi. We're not too sure ourselves. If all that lovely dolly girl disappears under a heap of clothes that reach to her calves, where's the impact?
"It's in the way we'll keep you guessing," said Judy, a short hand- typist in the City of London.
Not less than super is the way her fans think of ELIZABETH GALLACHER, Scots girl with the looks to take your mind off railway engines and give you wistful dreams.
Girl who gets around is model CHRISTINE FRANCES. Her professional assignments take her here, there and everywhere. It's a jet age made for jet-setters, and Christine spends a lot of her time flying high.
She's got a gorgeous shape, one you can't miss on those glamorous telly commercials, and she makes two of those beanpole fashion models we're glad to say.
Well, with vitalistics of 37-24-36 Christine makes curves count, not angles. Line up two fashion models and you'd hardly know they were there. Put Christine in a bikini and you've got a picture you can't miss.
Don't let's get into any unnecessary arguments about this. Unnecessary arguments always make us come out in hot flushes and either we have to go and see a doctor or punch our way out of it.
The fact is, statistics prove that the women of all nations have equally good legs but the legs of American women are more equal, like. For many years a pair of American legs in a pair of American nylons made men fall off bridges all over the world. It was what came of not looking where they were going because they didn't care where they were going.
Miss CANDY NORSE of San Jose, California, typifies Miss American Legs and is an eye-shattering example of why those men fall off those bridges.
These, if you'll excuse the emphasis on limbs alone, are Miss Norse's legs. Lovely, aren't they?
She's a secretary in an advertising agency and is the Californian man's idea of how to make an office look like the best years of his working life.
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.
