Tessa King

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Farm Favourite

Down on her farm in Sussex, TESSA KING is a great favourite - and not just because she’s kind to the animals. Tessa is a farmer's wife and just about as cute as they come.

It was a little too wet and muddy on this occasion to show you Tessa shepherding the gentle cows through the gate and across the road, but we're able at least to show you she's definitely one of the most photogenic farmers’ wives south of the Highlands.

Up in the morning early is Tessa, and if you thought a farmer's wife dressed herself in the rural equivalent of a boiler suit to face the day's chores, then here’s the exception which proves you shouldn't generalise.

This is the age of glamour - and the age that takes in farm favourites like Tessa. That side look out of the window was not made to project charm alone - a couple of hen turkeys had skipped away from the main throng (is throng of turkeys strictly correct?) to wing a lift on the tractor. Turkeys on tractors being taboo, Tessa was weighing up the necessity of rushing out to rescue them before they fell under the wheels. But not in this outfit !

Miss UK Marilyn Ward 1971

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Nice article from a November 1971 issue of the Radio Times about Marilyn Ward and the Miss UK contest. As we already know, Marilyn went on to win Miss UK that year, with her coming second as Miss World.

If nothing else, it certainly gives an interesting insight into the way that women were perceived and looked upon 50 years ago.

I would like to thank Brian for taking the time to scan this and pass it on to me.

Sandra McPherson

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Hey, Mac !

In calling the attention of SANDRA McPHERSON to the fact that a picture wanted hanging, we did so with a loud whisper. One never shouts at a lady.

It's an accepted facet of pin-up modelling that the job of climbing a pair of steps to hang a picture is never accomplished with a straightforward precision. The picture is too heavy, the steps totter and so eventually does the model. With models as cute as Sandra, the inevitable consequence adds up to a pretty picture somewhat different from the one to be hung.

Bruised she may be, disturbed she certainly is, but Sandra nevertheless - like all similarly pretty pictures - covers the physical hurt and the emotional disturbance with a smile. And then tries again.

And having completed the job successfully she takes time off to listen to a soothing record or two. The introduction of a few cushions is to offset the susceptible tenderness of the bruises, which may not be real to you but are certainly very real to Sandra !

Jill Summers

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Where's Jack ?

Here’s a Jill - JILL SUMMERS, in fact—and all that’s necessary to make this a gay twosome by the sea is Jack. He’ probably gone fishing.

Well, a girl as attractive as Jill won’t be alone for long on the beach, for it doesn’t matter how many Jacks have gone fishing there are always large numbers of discriminating beach boys who prefer attractive girls to cold-eyed fish.

Helen Candlish

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It's The Comfort That Counts !

It’s a pleasure to ask you to meet HELEN CANDLISH, the girl who appears in the next issue of our companion magazine FUNFARE, for this is a preview of Helens series. It’s also to show you that there is a great deal of comfort in old-fashioned long underwear that the flimsiness of more fashionable garments lacks.

With a book, a settee and time to spare, comfort is, in fact, the current keynote with Helen. You may laugh at Helen’s longs, but flimsiness is one thing and comfort another. After all, pilots don’t fly in swimsuits and Russian girls don’t sweep snow in a bikini.

So, until the long hot days of summer definitely show up, what have you got against a girl putting warmth before chilliness?

Indeed, what was good enough for mother is good enough for daughter and what is good enough for daughter is comfortable enough for Helen.

Birgit Kuppershaus

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Fabulous Fraulein

Regarded as stunningly fabulous in the world of West Berlin's glamour studios is BIRGIT KUPPERSHAVS, and you can say that again.

Birgit is our idea of the girl we'd most like to fight a duel over, if only we could be sure of winning.

Lynda Farrell

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Did You Go To Eton ?

When presented with the delightful picture that LYNDA FARRELL made in her lounge, our eyes were taken with her striped tie. Eton?

“No," said Lynda, "I didn’t go to Eton. It's a boys' school. Do I look like a boy?" We left her in no doubt that she didn’t but suggested she might at least have gone to Eton to look over the wall. "What for?" asked Lynda.

We couldn’t think of an answer to that one so pulled our hat down over our ears to take her mind off our gormlessness.

“You look better like that." said Lynda, “and if you must know I wear my tie to show I'm a career girl. I’m going to study astrology.”

Naturally, we were all agog at that and asked why.

"So that I can make you see stars,” said Lynda and pushed our hat farther over our ears by hitting it with the telephone.

Realising that people who ask silly questions are bound to get conked, we left with a ringing in our brainbox and a conviction that lovely girls can't half make an impact.

Especially on one's hat.

Susan Day

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What A Nice Day

A nice day is the kind of day when that brown-eyed brunette at last gives you a smile or when sales girl SUSAN DAY is just herself.

Susan designs clothes as well as selling them, she's an expert in ladies' fashions and looks pretty nice in them herself. And she’s got just the figure for sweaters. 37 - 24 - 37. A sweater on Susan turns into poetry. Try a line or two from Keats. Or a curve or two from Pythagorus.

Ben's Books

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Strip Lingerie No 12

Patricia McGregor

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How Delightful

It would indeed be delightful to have a maid-of-all-work like PATRICIA McGREGOR around the house. But unfortunately, Pat’s not registered with any domestic agency. The chores she does are strictly for her own benefit career wise she’s a fashion model and drama teacher. No, we can't tell you where she teaches drama, and anyway, Horace, we can’t see you as Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. With that glint in your eye and that smirk on your face, you’re not mournful enough.

Washing-up sans skirt is to save the skirt getting splashed by detergents, and, of course, to prove that fashion models have very glamorous legs.

Pat, by the way, is a pukka fashion model, and this is the first time she’s posed for pin-up shots. She was quite confident she would do us justice—with a smile like that and trim limbs like these, this was a certainty.

What she didn’t realise was that so many pin-up girls who put their feet up for temporary relaxation inevitably end up flat on their backs.

“This is a new one on me,” said Pat, “and I can’t say anything except the bump hurt me a lot more than it hurt you. How many times do I have to do this for pin-up art?”

And while she made herself a cup of tea to soothe her shattered nerves we explained it was a pure accident.

“Willingly,” said Pat, “I’d give you the benefit of the doubt on that if I hadn’t seen you push me. Pardon me if I pick a softer seat than before but I’m a little tender.”

We laughed that one off by saying that a little tender is just as much behind as a big tender, especially on British railways.

“You can say that again,” said Pat, and curling up on the armchair she refused to budge until we’d gone. And she stayed unbudged so charmingly we had no option but to fold up our tents and depart like the wise men of old.

Rosa Domaille

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Black Lace

To illustrate what s currently cooking in the matter of black lace fashions, we couldn't choose a better model than ROSA DOMAILLE.

Sooner or later most glamour girls model black lace because pink and white are all very charming but aren't the colours to actually slay 'em. Slay whom? Well, mostly the hawk-eyed buyers. Rosa, of course, does happen to be a girl who can slay ’em in anything, which is why Bill Watts, leading London agent for glamour, has just placed her under contract.

Rosa, who is making the pages of the nationals now, was only a girl up from the country a few months ago. Twig the new sophistication, fellers, and breathe deeply.

To model black lace, you just have to be soph isticated. But Rosa's still cute, huh?

In case you've forgotten, Rosa’s vitalistics are 38 – 23 - 36

Jennifer Mitchell

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Mind My Bike

THAT’S what the photographer asked JENNIFER MITCHELL on a recent modelling session. Jennie didn't need asking twice she'd been longing to try the machine out for size ever since he drove up. So, she told him to run along and attend to his flash bulbs, or light meter, or whatever it was needing attention she'd stay guard over the bike.

As soon as he was out of sight, Jennie was on the saddle. On the handlebars, too which is original if not comfortable.

A peek to ensure that the photographer was still occupied elsewhere, and Jennie was off for a trial spin. Alas, the bike will never be the same again neither, we think, will the photographer. Jennie, we’re glad to report, remains unalterably delightful.

Helen Williams

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Chelsea Model

That’s the place to be. Where it’s all happening. Chelsea. Full of the most interesting people and lovely walks by the river. Old pubs and frothy beer. Girls. Boys. Bicycles. Tall and kindly policemen. Hat shops. Colleges. Studios. Painters and writers. Models.

The nicest, the loveliest, the shapeliest live in Chelsea. There’s one we saw looking in the shop window. HELEN WILLIAMS. A real pet, a dream boat, a lover of poetry, of Byron, Shelley and Keats. Shame about Keats. Meander with us down tree-lined Cheyne Walk and take your mind off all that traffic at Piccadilly Circus. Helen adores Cheyne Walk. She’d like to live there. She will if she can win fifty thousand on a horse.

Fancoise Hardy

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To Cut A Long Story Short

No, listen, Vera, don't muck about, people are looking. Listen, and I'll tell you. It was a lovely night and I wasn’t doing anything, I was just wandering around Venice looking for a lady gondolier who wasn't going anywhere—yes, of course I love you, I wouldn’t have let you buy me that bag of oranges otherwise, would I!—and all of a sudden I saw this E-type Jag in racing green.

Well, to cut a long story short—move your elbow, beloved—named a price and the Transylvanian salesman named a price and I gave a hollow laugh and he said you don’t half look queer, monsieur, and I said I feel queer.

Then what should I see but the most blinding piece of Venetian sculpture—well, I thought it was at first, only it moved and who d'you think it was! No, not Milly burgentrot, she went off to Istanbul with that Turkish bath attendant—no, nor Annie Finnegan, either, she's having an allergy in Cork.

It was FRANCOISE HARDY. What d'you mean, who's she! How do I know who her mother is! Mrs. Hardy, I suppose. Now don’t be like that, you know I’m getting wrinkles about you—no, never look at other women—I just happened to spot this sensational vision in a mini-skirt outside this Venice cinema and I just thought she’d go with this E-type Jag I was buying, only to cut a long story short I fell flat on me kisser when I started to move — this salesman nit had his foot hooked over mine to stop me getting away—

All right give us a kiss then.

Anita Van Ecks

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The Girl From Amsterdam

There was once an Englishman who had his luckiest day when he was in Amsterdam. He was on a business trip and it was so concentrated and earnest that he was quite unable to mix any pleasure with it.

Then his eyes alighted on one of the Dutch secretaries floating dynamically around. He knew that if he lived to be a hundred and ninety no other girl could affect his metabolism like this one. She was blonde, beautiful and superb. Her name was ANITA VAN ECKS.

They met. He wooed her and won her. Talk about romantic, it was electric. Now Anita is a housewife in England, living in Acton. Always having wanted to be a photographic model, Anita took the chances offered by London and is now in orbit around the studios of glamour and commercial photographers.