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.
I am slowly making available Carnival eBooks (Digital Copies), and have just uploaded the first two volumes - most of the rest will follow over the next couple of months.
Carnival was well known for its £50 Beauty Contest which was so popular in Beauty Parade. Lots of great pin-up photography tips, with many pictures from well known photographers of the time - Russell Gay and Harrison Marks to name a couple.
The Competition section I find particularly interesting, as some of the amateur photographers and models certainly went on to become popular and frequent contributors to many magazines throughout the 1960’s.
All books are scanned as PDF’s as before and at a higher quality, making their file sizes slightly larger that some of the ToCo titles; they are now also all fully searchable.
You can also always perform a site search for any amateur names you may be looking out for.
While I have your attention, I am still short of a few Carnival numbers and would really appreciate some help filling my gaps. If you can help at all, then please contact me. I am not necessarily looking to purchase - just borrow if possible. Rewards could be generous if you can help me out!
I will also, in time, put together a Carnival information page; again, any help with its history is always appreciated. Please do come forward if you think you have something which may be of interest.
Missing Copies.
Volume 3 (1957) - No’s 4 and 9
Volume 3/4 (1958) - No’s 1, 7, 9, 11 and 12
Volume 4/5 (1959) - No’s 1, 2, 5 and 6
There was another girl who got caught up in the lure of the great outdoors, and this one was a Manchester
bird, CHRISTINE FRANCES."I like it," she said.
"It?" said the nut behind the camera.
"The countryside," she said, "you can revel around much more than in a city. I mean, in a city there are all those people."
"So?"
"Well, they look,” said Christine, "and you can't revel around and show your legs without some guy wanting to carry you off to make his Christmas."
"When I've finished," said the camera nut, "I'm going to carry you off, and it won't be anything to do with Christmas."
"Listen, darling,” said Christine, "I eat nuts like you with one bite."
This could be anywhere, it could be in front of a door in a house in Boston, or outside a door in a house in Manchester, although it’s possible the discerning types would all be able to pinpoint the exact location from the knowledge they could draw from the copper pan above the door.
Any precise information would be received with courtesy rather than with relief as we admit to not being bothered about the location. What we do know is that the lady is LEILA SCHELL, who is French and must be adjudged lovely anywhere. And she couldn’t look more French than she does here, could she? Unless she hadn’t gone blonde.
Leila is an up-and-coming star of the Continental stage and films, so if you’re fond of Continental films and don’t get confused by all that dubbing, look out for her at the local Bijou.
There’s so much that’s crazy in today’s fashions for the girl who wants to be gear or groovy, that you can’t blame any girl who goes a little mad in trying to keep up with the unconventional. Which is why DAWN GRAYSON is currently sporting a trend-setting garment of the I920’s— well, she says that’s about when she heard they were last worn.
Imagine it, forty years in a museum and they’re still as good as new.
THERE are some people who like the comfort and security of an armchair better than anything else. The only thing that gets them out of it is the chime of the ice cream van or the coo-hoo of the blonde who wants to share it. If Sir Francis Drake or Christopher Columbus had been like that, nobody would have gone anywhere and the Red Indians would still be undiscovered.
That might have saved Tarnation Jake from being scalped, but Jake being what he was it was the best thing that could have happened to him. To him the call of the wild meant getting there first and keeping it all to himself. Ornery old coot. After he lost all his hair it hurt him too much to keep his hat on and he got sunstroke. Poor old guy.
Nice to know the sense of adventure actuates CHR1STEL BIRKHOLZ, otherwise we wouldn’t see her in the great outdoors looking like an intrepid explorer’s beautiful dream. Intrepid explorers don’t only dream about hidden cities and odd-looking aborigines. They have moments when they’re just like the rest of us.
Christel, when she isn’t responding to the call of the wild and getting lost, is a West Berlin fashion model.
Wake up, Charlie, here comes the lollipop man. Go and get two orange-flavoured ones.
Where's Mary?" asked the hall porter of the posh hotel.
"Who’s Mary?" said the new manager.
"She's our receptionist," said the porter. He was talking about MARY MAXTED, a lovely London dolly who works behind the reception desk at this hotel.
"Gad, is that Mary? I thought she was Miss Blackpool," said the manager, "she's got the looks for it. Well, when she re-appears ask her to come to my office. I want to discuss interior decorations with her."
Everyone's like that about Mary. They all want her individual attention. Well, it's about the most normal reaction going.
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.
"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.
If you’re as talented a model as Miss GERALDINE GERRARD, who is currently in demand with the fashion houses of Birmingham, Liverpool and Manchester, then you really are a model miss.
"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."
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.
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?
