Having fought her way home from the office, AMANDA CASE thought she'd take a bath instead of a shower, then sit down refreshed to chicken and asparagus pie.
She ran the bath and was quite unready for what happened next.
She fell in.
She wasn't at all undressed for it.
Just a few buttons undone. Then what?
“I was wet all over," said Amanda, and so was everything else.”
A work of art more often than not is something they put on a pedestal or hang on a wall and is frequently called a museum piece. There’s the Mona Lisa and the Venus de Milo and MAGGIE McCULLY, only don’t try hanging Maggie on a wall, even at a Bond Street gallery, or you’ll find yourself in a six-foot frame and with a bump on your head that’ll fit a half-pint skid-lid.
Of course, if you’re a lover of art and subject to fragilistic trembling’s in the presence of the Mona Lisa or the Venus de Milo, you won’t be without palpitations in the presence of Maggie, either. As the epitome of all that is inspiring about the modern girl,
Maggie is even better than a work of art.
She lives and breathes and loves a sleigh ride.
What was needed by her parents' fireplace, thought LOUISE CRAWFORD, was a nice rocking-chair. Grandpa had had one and gave Louise rides on his knees when she was a little girl.
Louise still has a yen for a rocker, and for want off one by the fireplace she has to sit on that fur rug. All we can say is that if any decoration goes really excitingly with a fireside fur rug, it's Louise.
She looks good whatever she's doing. She plays a smashing game of tennis and a shapely game of basketball. She's not the best of footballers, however, but she looks gorgeous in her short soccer shorts.
Oh, come up to our sports shop sometime, Louise.
"Not unless I'm wearing my shin-pads," said Louise, "I know you”.
Now that MELANIE DARKAN has entered that stage of her life where she has to make a career for herself, before she marries a tall lovely man with a fascinating job of his own, she has decided to go her own way rather than be guided into an office vacancy.
Melanie has made up her mind to become a model.
She has the figure. She's 36-23-36. She has the smile and she has the dedication. Modelling school means all kinds of disciplined training, but what's that if it's the way you want it?
Melanie lives in Sheffield, where they make the best knives and forks in the world. It's just cutlery to Melanie.
Having created one image for herself as a top pop star,
NANCY SINATRA is now being groomed for a different role.
It was those boots which did it. Everyone heard her when she arrived and those who are in business to bring the world to those who want it decided Nancy had what it takes to become a film star.
So, in a new cloak-and-dagger story called “The Last of The Secret Agents,” Nancy will project her new image as a sex kitten. She’ll be seen, for instance, in this outfit made of sexy lace complete with garters and if that doesn’t launch Nancy into an exciting world of film fame it won’t be her fault.
It’ll be because people have gone off garters.
The day was fine, PATRICIA McGREGOR was looking beautiful, and everything seemed set fair for a walk in the park.
But first, of course, Pat had to make sure that her seams were straight and her nails were polished.
Not to mention her shoes. A fashion model like Pat just couldn’t be seen in public without a shoeshine.
A final check on those seams—a last suspender adjustment, and we’re all set.
Apart from—no, not just the hat, Pat. What about the skirt? Well, you might get away with it if you keep your coat buttoned up, but suppose you get asked into tea somewhere?
“Hallo! Hallo-Sally? Sally, did I leave my skirt at your place yesterday? I did? Well, good heavens, what did I come home in, then? I did? Gosh, no wonder I thought it was draughty on my bike!”
Yes, it's very lovely for the art students around Bristol. Their new teacher is SUSAN ANSTEY, who is considered an incomparable work of art herself.
Long-legged, vivacious and with flowing chestnut hair, Susan took the opportunity during vacation time to show that modern lady teachers aren't just intellectual faces. She did some delicious pin-up modelling and was quite overcome at the pocket money she earned.
"My word," she said, "teachers don't get paid half as much."
"Well, give it up, wonder woman," said the photographer, "and be a glamour girl."
"I'd like to," said Susan, "but I'm dedicated and my pupils would miss me awfully."
"If I were in your class," he said, "so would I."
Bristol fashion means tip-top and shipshape, which is easily interpreted by a sailor but might need clarifying for the benefit of landlubbers.
For the benefit of landlubbers, then, it means spanking.
First-class Shining bright. The tops.
Bristol girl CHRISTINE DOVEY is all of that.
She's a shorthand- typist, has fashion-conscious statistics of 36-23-35. with ambitions to work on the catwalk.
She loves pop and discotheques and fast cars.
There are lots of tip-top, shipshape girls like Christine in Bristol, which is why the fellers there always look so pleased with things.
A well-polished car with all that gleaming chromium and the rest of the gear is just right as a subject for glossy photography, but if you need to gild the lily how about adding ANNETTE FRENCH to the picture?
You might be inclined to suggest the car is superfluous in that case, even if it’s a supercharged model, and in turn we’d be inclined to agree with you. For if you’re looking for the photogenic dream, what’s a chromium-plated bumper compared with a natural beauty like Annette?
In years to come posterity will have its say about the mini-skirt, but at the moment we’re only concerned with its maddening eye-appeal and how vital and alive the feminine leg seems in it.
Girl who wears her minis very short indeed is London dress designer HEATHER PIERCY, and she wears them this way to please her boyfriend. It goes without saying that all other boys have no objections, either, and Heather can now tell by the particular key in which a wolf whistle is pitched the exact extent of the whistler’s approval. Heather is magnificently and uninhibitedly typical of every mini-skirted dolly of London the difference being that she happens to be a designing one.
She can come and design for us—we have ideas for a country mansion, a villa in Portofino and a yacht in Cannes we’d like her to start on. That should keep her within eyesight for quite a while. We don’t know what we’d do with the designs, but we’d worry about that later.
Some Irish housewives have got a lovely way of frying bacon; others have the most bewitching way of looking all cuddly.
We know a very bewitching Irish housewife. She's JANE DIXON.
Her way of bewitching a feller is to flash her Irish eyes at him. Irish eyes are soft, limpid, saucy and provoking. You can write poetry about them and get ten marks out ten from teacher for same.
You can certainly write poetry about Jane, and don't be put off by her trendy see-through. Keep looking into her eyes until you go all glazed and then you'll be in the mood to write the dreamiest poetry ever.
It doesn't have to rhyme; it just has to have a lilting flow.
Hampshire secretary MARIE FITZGERALD loves all the mini fashions and lace-up boots.
We love all the mini fashions too, and go overboard for secretaries in lace-up boots. With all the worries, we’ve got about the bomb, Vietnam and Rhodesia we need such diversification as the sight of mini dollies tripping lightly past our windows. We can’t spend all our time mentally agonising over the stupidity of so many.
It's all right for some. Some have au pair girls to use a broom for them.
But SALLY DIXON, university student, has to do ail her own chores in her London fiat and one place she likes to keep spotless is her kitchen, she being a girl who spends a lot of time in it. She's a marvel at making up exotic dishes out of homely ingredients bought at the nearby Street market.
She's also a marvel at modelling in her spare leisure hours, so that she can occasionally buy her-self a luscious steak and cook it Chinese style. You eat it with Chinese crackers.
No, come on. Tearaway (said the panting jockey), get weaving or you’ll have me in dead trouble with Lady Sylvia. I tipped her you’d win by five lengths and here you are not even trying—swelp me if I don’t nobble you myself next time out. You couldn’t blame the gee-gee, really. The jockey just lost all sense of proportion when he gazed into the green eyes of SYLVIA MARTIN, 20-year-old bachelor-girl-about-town, who loves a flutter on the horses and believes anything a jockey tells her about the nags. Sylvia has lost the equivalent of a shirt more times than she cares to remember.
In case any of you think the height of bliss is only experienced by those riding a rocking-horse on the top of the Eiffel Tower, then there are those among you who haven’t seen Sylvia waving her horse home at Epsom. She dances, jigs, cavorts, yells, shrieks, and generally lets her enthusiasm take such hold of her that she becomes the most entrancing spectacle of the day.
Sorry we couldn’t show you her cheering her last flutter home, but we did catch her looking extremely entrancing in the domestic setting of a London flat.
Sylvia’s ambition, as distinct from her hobby, is the theatre—she wants desperately to break into the real, live genuine circuit—but she won’t put her shirt on it, she couldn’t bear to lose on that one.
Fashion and photographic model NICKY WESTON has one ambition above all others, and that’s to travel all over the world in her work. Nicky is just twenty and like so many fashion models can be seen adding glamour to the motor racing circuits. She also looks cool on a gee-gee, being uncommonly addicted to hacking.
