It seems from what the fashion pundits say that the era of exquisite feminine lingerie has gone with all the other dated items of yesterday. It’s just going to be stretch tights forever from now on, so they say. Even bras are going out. The fashion pundits are always far more interested in selling themselves than in making us happy.
We’re not like that. We want to make you happy this month by bringing to your dreamy eyes the look that graced the fashions of yesterday, and ANNE SCOTT in the lingerie that used to make all the advertisements on the underground look so alluring is quite irresistible, don’t you think?
If you prefer stretch tights and a body stocking, you’re so modern that there’s nothing we can do for you.
Anne is a deliciously photogenic Scot from Glasgow.
She looks happy.
Are you happy too now?
Very special to soccer is HELEN ATHERTON of Sheffield, Yorkshire. No pent-up match is complete unless she’s leaping about in her stand seat, giving off cries of rapturous delight as the ball thuds into the back of the net.
“Hold it,” said the feller next to her, “that makes us two down, so what’s there to get frenzied about, doll?”
“Their shorts are so dishy,” said Helen.
“The ones in the striped shorts.”
“That’s the raving enemy,” he said, incensed. “They can capture me anytime,” said Helen.
Well, Saturdays in the grandstand make a nice change from other days in her office typing pool.
In the stockroom of a Manchester cotton mill the girl in charge was STEPHANIE PETERS, and blokes kept coming in to ask her to check what was in the upper bays so that they could see what she looked like in her mini on a ladder.
Such blokes were always milling around in the stockroom and Stevie, as they call her, always seemed to be up the ladder.
So, she thought she’d leave her job and get one in London. Going up and down that ladder was killing her. In London she met some photographers and became a model. Now they’re all milling around her in the big city.
A bevy of blokes with a long ladder.
Any picture of JENNIFER TAYLOR that tells you not every tomorrow is just another washing day. Jennifer, a young and lovely Bristol housewife, is an entirely bewitching example of how to be lovely and married.
You don’t have to go around the house looking as if you’ve just untangled yourself from the cooking pots, says Jennifer. You can still look like the Queen of Sheba if you’ve a mind to, and husbands just love that.
Jennifer is a natural glamour girl, beautifully shapely and the Number One pin-up favourite of her adoring hubby. Some guys are so lucky it hurts us.
What a Doll
Two fellers were waiting for the bus when ANDREA KAYE walked by.
“What a doll,” said one.
“I can’t look round. I’ve got a stiff neck,” said the other.
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” said the first.
So, the second feller made a big effort and turned his head. His stiff neck clicked.
“Caramba, what a cure for seized-up neck muscles,” he said hoarsely.
Andrea was tripping along, looking like the shapely epitome of corking dolly birds, and the second feller’s eyeballs seized up, and when the bus came along he couldn’t see for looking and fell all the way up the stairs.
Anyone Feel Dizzy ?
According to her fans, NICOLA TAYLOR turns them all on, and there’s hardly a day goes by without some entirely susceptible Charley boy doesn’t spin round until he drops.
Nicola is a Hampshire girl with her own way of looking lovely. She simply remains herself.
There was a sensitive baby elephant which spent all its growing years trying to look like a bunch of flowers. It didn’t create any real impact, and one day when it emerged from the river looking exactly like a growing baby elephant, an American lady tourist said, “Oh, how cute, can I buy that one?”
The baby elephant was happy ever after.
There you are, then. If you’re lovely in your own way, be like Nicola and the baby elephant. Just remain yourself and don’t grow a beard.
Watch What Birdie ?
There was lush dolly LISA CASALA on one side of the camera and Willy Boodle on the other. And Lisa was telling him to watch the birdie.
Willy did. What a peach, he thought. Big brown eyes and all. He went quite faint and when his passport photograph was developed it looked like a dose-up of a fragile hop-picker who’d been at the malt.
Lisa lives in Dorset. She likes the occasional camerawork.
On either side of the lens she’s a beaut.
Willy didn’t think his passsport photograph would pass. So, he made six more appointments.
“One should be enough if only you don’t go all quivery,” said Lisa.
“I hope you don’t think I’ve got malaria,” said Willy, “I just suffer from susceptibility.”
“Fascinating,” said Lisa as she ushered him out.
All the way from Mexico came a dream.
After the excitement of the Olympic Games there, MARIA MONTEZ couldn’t settle to her work in a dress shop in Mexico City, so she came to Europe to participate in the happenings.
She finished up in London. The happenings in Paris and Rome were extremely Continental. Being pinched all the time was blush-making.
“And by perfect strangers, no doubt,” said Sir Harry.
“Perfect? Senor,” she said, “how can you say perfect when you mean naughty?”
“Ah, a good question,” said Sir Harry.
“I do not mind a pinch here and there,” said Maria, “but not by naughty men.”
“I used to be naughty. I’ve grown out of it now,” said Sir Harry.
Our Miss Smith
There are any amount of Miss Smiths.
Some are sort of negative, some are quite divine.
Our Miss Smith is simply herself. Ravishing.
Full name? SARAH SMITH. She’s a Glasgow girl with a lovely Scottish accent, she works as a secretary and models in her spare time. She wears mini-kilts in tartan recognition of her clan and the loveliest, briefest mini-dresses in delicious acknowledgement of her shapely legs.
She’s whistled all the way to the office in the mornings and all the way home at night.
And what’s fairer than that?
Up in the Scottish Highlands they play all those Scottish games, and one of our favourite pin-up girls, RUTH CAVENDISH, is quite good at tossing the caber, providing the caber is scaled down to the size of a walking-stick. “A girl,” says Ruth, “should be noted for her charm and subtlety, not her muscles. Who wants muscles?” She was having a grand game doing the Highland Fling not far from the local loch, and then a Scottish terrier joined in and made off with most of her clothes, Ruth having taken them off to give herself more freedom of movement.
It was a new kind of game looking for that terrier, who was finding her terylene skirt tastier than a tin of dog meat. Still, Ruth made a lovely picture while it was all going on.