Paulene Stone, this month’s cover girl*, is one of the last of the Great Glamour Girls. In the tradition of Katharine Hepburn, Rita Hayworth and Fiona Von Thyssen, she has had lots of exposure and most of the perks. Like her carpet-sweeping ranch mink, walk-in wardrobe, heated swimming pool and her dishy boyfriend, film star Laurence Harvey.

She’s come a long way from Brighton where, at sixteen, she won a model contest. But Paulene’s solid gold glamour takes work—lots of it. Swimming twenty lengths of her heated OUTDOOR swimming pool, for instance. Especially in winter, Paulene says. “Though I’m not your full sporty type . . . I never get my eyelashes wet.”

She tackles cellulite the tough way. with water massage. Four jets on each side, one at the back, this brisk Japanese water treatment really works, says Paulene. “Every dimple on my buttocks went.” Standing five foot nine inches in her Biba boots, American jeans and sweater—the model girl uniform- she weighs only 8 st. 12 lb. And l’ve seen her eat strawberry jam on bread for lunch, followed by a doughnut. Paulene has plenty of incentives, of course. Her boyfriend is one. “I hate to be outdone by Larry,” she says. He takes daily saunas. She skips this because it dried her skin. A built-in softener in the water tank, lashings of Fenjal and regular sessions with Nair depilatory on her legs, keep that milk-maid skin impeccable.

Paulene casts a cold eye on her skin in the clear light of a fluorescent tube, set in a mirror just above eye-level—very revealing. Like most enduring beauties she knows her flaws down to the last missing eyelash. On the current natural kick. most models have thrown away their false eyelashes. Not  Paulene. “I can’t NOT wear them, I have none of my own. Larry calls me: ’No Eyes’.” Putting her face together starts with Boots No. 7 foundation in a beige tint, spread very fine with a sponge. For pictures she adds a fluff of Germaine Monteil sheer powder which doesn’t add any colour. Estée Lauder’s brick coloured brush-on powder hollows her cheeks. She rings her eyes with Mary Ouant’s dark blue crayon, then adds Cardinelli eyelashes. She plucks her pale eyebrows to a fine arc. then shadows them with Almay’s brown brush-on shadow. Her red hair is streaked twice a year and she prefers to wash it, in herbal shampoo, and set it herself. Her lipstick and nail varnish are currently red.

“Not blood-red, Larry hates obvious red lips. It’s idiotic to irritate a man with your make-up or clothes; the whole point is to attract the opposite sex, not repel them.” says Paulene. Like most men, her fella doesn’t notice clothes unless he doesn’t like them. She remembers when they first met he asked why she didn’t own a little black dress. “He even bought me pearls. That was when l wore white mini kilts and Courreges boots!”

Paulene’s been through several styles from the all-white bit, through Chanel suits to hippy gear, and now she’s back to classics. Her walk-in wardrobe holds clothes by the rackful and several furs. A Herbert Johnson hat box holds two swash-buckling hats with sweeping brims and pheasant feathers and the place reeks lushly of Calandre, Paco Rabanne’s scent. The bathroom wall is lined with nicely narcissistic pictures of Paulene with Larry, plus prints and paintings of leopards, a fox, a Thai tiger in brass and other beautiful felines. Paulene, a well-groomed and well-loved feline herself says: “I’m saving up for my first face lift now. I shall not grow old gracefully.”

Scanned from Cosmopolitan, April 1972.

*Curiously, she isn’t actually the cover model for the issue this appeared in!

Of course Larry and Paulene get their own cover a few issues down the line…