Boots 17 make-up advert.
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from 19 Magazine, May 1972
Photographed in Brazil with Yardley, whose Yardley McLaren team took part in the 2nd Grand Prix, 1973
Photographed by Harry Peccinotti. Styled by Caroline Baker.
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Nova, May 1973

Drawstring neck top (part of a flared Pajama suit) by Ossie Clark for Radley. Compact mirror from Biba.

Crêpe de chine printed coat and plain crêpe bags from Electric Fittings. Rib sun top by John Craig. Pique sun hat by Edward Mann. Espadrilles at Ronald Keith.

Dressing gown from Austin Reed. Silk blouse and baggy pants by Katharine Hamnett for Tuttabankem. Cobweb shoes at Chelsea Cobbler.
But before you start chucking him back, remember the average British male is all you’ve got to work on. So get working on him. Tell him you think his barber stinks. Say you’ll scream if he turns up in that seedy safari jacket, with those baggy drainpipes, and bunion-hugging shoes again. Meantime, wear this pale blue hooded coat £45, matching poloneck with red chevron front £21, and matching trousers £28. All by Sonia Rykiel at Browns.”
This is a quite-frankly-amazing little photo story from Vanity Fair, which sees our Cinderfella hero being taken from baggy drainpipes to novelty-print-shirted Hard Rock Cafe God, via the Kensington Church Street branch of Mr Freedom and Leonard of Mayfair.
Photographed by Marc Leonard. Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Vanity Fair, January 1972
…swap the chat for action. Shove him into Mr. Freedom, 2- Kensington Church Street, W8. Strip off his drainpipes and fit him into a pair of red velvet jeans, £7.75. Rip off his jacket and zip him into a red-and-white satin top, £7.95. (It’s got FAR OUT splashed over the shoulders to make sure he gets the message). And while you’re there, buy yourself some pale blue satin trousers, £5.25, a furry acrylic leopard-skin blouse, £9.95, and a black pom-pom beret, £4.”
He’s at Leonard, 6 Upper Grosvenor Street, W1 (even if you had to frog march him there), being tactfully handled by Peter. Wash, cut and blow-dry costs £3.75, beard 5-p. extra – not much when you consider it’s made a mean-moody-magnificent out of that surly yobo of yours.”
Sitting in the Hard Rock Cafe in his grey wool barathea Stirling Cooper suit, £28.00 with a waistcoat, and his tiny-man-patterned shirt, £4.90. Both from Way-In, Hans Crescent, SW1. You’re in your Missoni four-piece (orangey battledress top, matching trousers, orange silky blouse and toning striped tank top). £75 from Browns. Thinking what a perfect couple you make. Except that now he’s thinking: ‘Blimey mate, you could do a lot better than her if you tried.'”

…in a leafy glade – the green and woody scent of Coty’s Emeraude. Short beige silk kimono, £35, scarf, £8, printed with figures by Kansai Yamamoto, matching umbrella by Kanei Orimono, £5 from Boston-151.
Modelled by Marie Helvin. Photographed by Barry Lategan.
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Vogue, August 1971
Out on a limb… Ossie Clark as always. His new collection bristles with exclamation marks that point to Ossie the inimitable – the coat-hanger shoulders on his suits, the bright bunches-of-flowers prints by Celia Birtwell, the fluid lines and bosomy curves of his dresses.
Annabel Hodin, twenty-four years old, and a girl who believes in extremes. She changes the way she looks with the seasons, likes to be very, very brown in summer, white in winter, wears little make-up by day, lots at night. Daughter of Dr Josef Hodin the art historian, she lives in Hampstead, loves London, feels European, is at home everywhere.
Photographed by Barry McKinley at the home of Michael Chiu, owner of the Chiu Gallery. Make-up by Barbara Daly.
Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Harpers and Queen, February 1973
“Start squaring your shoulders, tightening your belt and walking on four-inch heels…”
A phenomenal editorial which feels very ahead of its time. This is really the birth of ‘Power Dressing’, from February 1979. There’s a curious juxtaposition of old and new, the old telephone and boudoir chair in the final photo suggest the origins of these suits in the Forties while the clunky ‘mobile phone’ is the signpost to the unknown future. Pre-Eighties and pre-Thatcher (just) – even pre-Miss Peelpants (also, just!) – there’s something quite charming about the modest silhouette here – which is really rather hard to equate with the horrors which were to come. These feel more in line with the New Romantic and Goth garments from the 1980s which I feel passionate about and choose to collect (like Sarah Whitworth, Symphony of Shadows etc), than with Yuppies and Dynasty, although you can just as equally see their genesis here.
Photographed by Christa Peters. Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Cosmpolitan, February 1979.