No, it’s not a new Spice Girls line-up. David Bailey and Vogue posed this quartet of female styles back in 1974 and I think it’s a wonderful photoshoot, if a little bit silly in premise terms. Bailey can be a very hit-and-miss photographer, for me at any rate, so I thought it would be nice to show you one of the better shoots I’ve found in my stash of magazines! And while it’s certainly all a bit of silly fluffy nonsense, we all need a bit of silly fluffy fantasy when the weather is a bit grim and the world is all stressing about money….

You only ever see her at night: she hardly exists before 10pm. Her small house is all black velvet and mirrorglass, with a private bar and a fishtank bath, a hothouse where she grows spotted green orchids. Stomo Yamashata plays at the touch of a button at home and in her Panther Ferrari. She wears all shades of black and the Diaghilev colours – fuschia pink and violet, emerald and kingfisher – and the night scent, Norell. She puts crimson carnations in a porphyry vase of black ink overday, wears them to bring her luck at the Clermont. On rainy nights friends come through the wet to watch old movies in her private cinema – Bogart, Cagney, and her new favourite, LinoVentura.

Showgirl

A natural actress, show-off and scene-stealer. She arrives hours late for almost everything and her entrances are timed to perfection. She spends money like there’s no tomorrow and she makes it too. A born gambler, she cashes in her diamond chips and plays the stock market with gilt-edged assurance. She’ll have nothing but the best, including men. Her music? Mahler and the sound of oil wells. Her habitat: Annabel’s, Ritz bar anywhere, Mark’s Club. Her holiday: Las Hadas, Mexico, El Cuarton, Spain, Bali, Brazil. Her luggage: Vuitton. Her clothes: as you see here. Her scent: the newest. She travels by Lear jet, Rolls Corniche convertible, horse and carriage. She reads the Financial Times and there’s nothing average about her Dow-Jones.

Romantic

She’d like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony. She’s a believe in love at first sight, a tarot card reader, a collector of ghost stories, a confidante. She has lunch at San Lorenzo, dinner at Tramps, tea for two under the pergola. She’ll only wear clothes with good vibrations – in other words, soft cool, free dresses, camisoles and cotton skirts. Her music: Vivaldi and Dylan. Her scent: Estee Lauder’s Alliage. Her clothes: Jap, Jean Muir, antique markets’. Her luggage: a carpet bag she picked up at a country auction, assorted straw baskets. Her transport: bus, Porsche, bicycle. Her natural habitat: home with faded prints, honeysuckle, herbs and French provincial furniture. Her holiday: a cottage in Wales, a farmhouse in Lucca, a schooner round the Isles of Greece- but she doesn’t have to travel to relax, her whole life’s a holiday.

Sportster

Buddy Holly, Bette Midler and David Bowie take turns on the tape. Her favourite clothes: shorts, Day-glo nylon scarves, metallised leather jackets, boots, things from Too Fast To Live Too Young to Die in the Kings Road, sports departments of Simpson and Lillywhites. Her scent, Helena Rubinstein’s Courant. Flies to the Black Raven at night, cruises around Europe on holiday, meeting up with a yacht in Italy.

Personally, I’m a romantic. I like the idea of being the vamp but it’s too much hard work. Showgirl requires money I simply cannot imagine ever having, and even if I did have it….aside from a Duran on one arm and a wardrobe full of Ossies and Vivienne Westwood frocks….I am not sure I wouldn’t feel awfully guilty every day for being such a glutton. Sportster? Couldn’t be further away from my personality, aside from the Bowie thing of course. Although I do like sports cars, I just can’t drive them!

…… What would you be?