Scanned from Honey, October 1968.
Such a lovely illustration and such sweetly innocent underwear-naming too. Ahhh, if only you got an “E.P. record” with all bra purchases these days…

Drifting gypsy dress in early morning sea colours. Scarf, top and trousers, 11gns, at the Fulham Road Clothes Shop. Silver chaining over the head by Carlton Payne, about £10, at Annacat. Silver rings by Corocraft.
Superb piece by all-too-scarce design duo Sylvia Ayton and Zandra Rhodes for the Fulham Road Clothes Shop.
Featured in Vogue, May 1969. Photographed by Arnaud de Rosnay.
When popstar Lulu announced her engagement to musician Maurice Gibb a few months ago, most newspapers published pictures of her holding hands with her fiance. Underneath were captions which stated: “Lulu shows off her sapphire and diamond ring.” But in the photos=graohs they were both wearing so many different rings it was impossible to make out which one was the engagement ring – or who, for that matter, was wearing it. Pictures like these show that there is a growing fashion for wearing masses of rings all crammed on at once. It’s a craze that has sprung up as a sort of antidote to the growing uniformity of clothes. Last winter when most people were racing around in pants, long sweaters and clumpy shoes, the only way of looking remotely original was to wear different scarves, unusual belts or jewellery. Actress Suzy Kendall (above), who has been a keen collector for some time, said that she picked up this selection while on location in Yugoslavia and in Rome, and she bought others from a shop in Chelsea called Anschel’s. The rest of the people photographed on these pages acquire their bits and piece in much the same way. This is a craze that doesn’t cost much. Avid collectors say that it wouldn’t work with real stones – they would look too flashy – and they prefer more original bits.
The Sunday Times Magazine, March 23 1969.
By Meriel McCooey. Photos by Malcolm Robertson. Scanned by Miss Peelpants.
You may, or may not, have noticed that I frequently post scans of favourite underwear shoots on this here blog. I aspire to the level of lounging glamour demonstrated by ladies of the past; no tracksuits or slankets chez Miss Peelpants – oh no no no… I also feel as limited and uncomfortable in a lot of modern underwear as I do in a lot of modern clothing, so it seems only logical to buy and wear vintage pieces.
So I am delighted to announce the launch of Loungerie at Vintage-a-Peel. The name is inspired by a spread from Honey Magazine which I posted a while back, and the stock is inspired by all my very favourite underwear photoshoots and saucier source material I may encounter. If vintage underwear isn’t your thing, that’s totally understandable, but for anyone else – I do hope you find something to tempt you (and your lover…).
And with names like Ossie Clark, Janice Wainwright, Rudi Gernreich, Bruce Oldfield and Janet Reger, this is certainly no ordinary lingerie section!
The lovely Paul Gorman very kindly sent me some sneaky peeky previews of his much-awaited new book about Tommy Roberts (Kleptomania, Mr Freedom, City Lights etc). From what I’ve seen and read so far, this is going to be quite a ‘must have’ book for anyone interested in Sixties and Seventies fashion – and specifically, the British Boutique scene in London at the time.
Cheeky and freaky, Mr Freedom clothes are amongst my very favourites of their kind. The bright, brash shapes, colours and logos have long since moved beyond pop-art irony and into the realms of the iconic themselves. This is the first, and I’m sure will remain the only, definitive look at the life of Roberts and his various other boutiques and projects … and I actually cannot wait to have a hard copy in my hands! I will give it a full review eventually, but until then…
Rock on Tommy, rock on…
You can pre-order Mr Freedom direct from Adelita for a mere £20.
Ok, cats, I’m going to willingly lose cool points and confess that I had to look up what the hell ‘Ginchiest‘ means. (There’s even a song.) I can’t always immediately ‘get’ this kind of groovy talk. It was hard enough watching Beat Girl, daddy-o…

The Hon. Tara Browne in a maroon silk suit chosen by his wife, Nicky, left. By Major Hayward. Gold shirt, Turnbull & Asser
Both Tara Browne and Brian Jones were at the height of their fame, fortune and follicular glory here. Neither would see the Seventies. Indeed, Browne wouldn’t even see out the year this feature hails from. Quite extraordinary to see them together in the same spread from Men In Vogue, November 1966. They even managed to date the same woman (Suki Potier was the passenger in Browne’s Lotus Elan when he died, and would later be comforted by Jones – dating him, on-and-off, until his death in 1969.)
Photographs by Michael Cooper.

Brian Jones, a Rolling Stone in a double-breasted black suit, striped red and white, chosen by Anita Pallenberg, above. Bright pink shirt, scarlet handkerchief and tie. All bought in New York. Black and white shoes found in Carnaby Street.
As an aside, I was amazed to read, for the first time, that there are actually people in the world who believe that Tara Browne underwent extensive plastic surgery to ‘become’ a replacement Paul McCartney. Because McCartney actually died in a motorbike accident in Liverpool [just before Browne faked his own death], dontchaknow? I mean no offence to a beloved Beatle, but why on earth would anyone bother? Nobody bothered doing that with any other dead rock star at the time.
I’m quite the arch timewaster myself, but even my mind boggles at the years people devote to such patently ludicrous things.
Scanned from The Sunday Times Magazine, April 13th 1969
‘No other cloth bears itself with such irreproachable distinction or touches women with such cavalier effectiveness that even the musketress must be disarmed eventually’.
What guff! But I do envy her entire outfit, hat included…