Saturday, 22nd September 1950

Dear Diary,

Oh dear sweet William!  Well I’m afraid that I won’t be seeing him again in a hurry, what a frightful bore! I must say I am rather disappointed because we did share some swell times together and I thought that there might be some romantic potential. We met on the dodgems at the fun the fair not long ago and got to know each other much better over a glass of stout in the pub. Wills has been treating me like a queen on outings and dinner dates, always bringing delightful little gifts; a single red rose or a luxury chocolate wrapped in gold foil, oh how thoughtful. William certainly knows how to woo a gal.

Nevertheless, his true colours were shamelessly revealed when he invited me to that speakeasy last night. I wanted to contribute something to the party so I decided to have a go at Great Aunt Matilda’s recipe for beetroot cake. I’m quite certain that I followed the recipe to the letter. I mixed the ingredients with the grated beetroot and popped the cake in the oven for 55 minutes just as it was written down in the recipe. I thought I had time to dash to the corner shop whilst the cake was in the oven. However, when I returned home the kitchen was thick with smoke and the cake was on fire! Oh fiddlesticks! What a disaster and such a mess!

Well, I had no choice but to arrive empty handed at the party. The front door of the house was on the latch, so I let myself in and made a spectacular entrance wearing the Beverly dress by Heartbreaker Fashion. It was almost like a scene from the movies when the screen siren enters the room, everyone stops talking for a moment and the men are hopelessly entranced. Of course that’s why this dress is known as the Heartbreaker, because a dramatic impact is always guaranteed!

Happily, one chatty fellow, (I’m assuming the host) approached bearing a tray of overfull sherry glasses, so I politely took one although it was rather sticky and unpleasant. Another chap invited me to choose a gramophone record, but I gracefully declined on account of my sticky fingers. Two young lads came breezing in from the next room and took turns to sweep me into a relay of twirling along to the jazz records, the party really started to swing! Suddenly, it seemed as if the whole party decided to get up and dance!

The music was turned up even louder for the jitterbug, so the petticoats were flying! Just then I caught a glimpse of William, desperately pushing his way through the crowded room with a reddened face like thunder. What on earth was the matter with him? It all happened in a trice! William launched into a frenzied attack of jealousy and completely floored my dance partner with one almighty punch to the jaw! What a disgrace! That was absolutely uncalled for, I was only dancing with the poor fellow and he most certainly didn’t deserve that!

Visit Betty’s fabulous fashion boutique and read more from her secret diary here:

www.bettylicious.co.uk

Monday, 20th August 1950

Dear Diary,

Oh what fun!  The Fun Fair arrived at the Park this weekend, so I took the salon gals out on Saturday night for a special staff outing. The Park was absolutely heaving with people, courting couples, families with young children and lively gangs of young girls and boys, or ‘teenagers’ as we refer to them these days. The atmosphere was positively electric; I so adore the gaily-coloured flashing light bulbs, the sweet aroma of candy floss mingled with sizzling hot dogs and above all, the anticipation of the thrill of the rides. 

The first thing we did was to have a go on the coconut shy.  I must say it was really very funny when Anne-Marie threw one of her balls squarely onto the coconut (most definitely a fluke) and it just bounced off, straight onto the brim of the stallholder’s hat. When Doreen had a go she managed to hit the same coconut again, yet it was rather peculiar how the blasted thing wouldn’t budge. The stallholder shuffled nervously and offered her a free ball as a consolation. I say, those coconuts must be glued down!

I decided to treat everyone to toffee apples for munching on whilst we queued for the Moon Rocket. Grace and I sat together, whilst Anne-Marie and Doreen climbed into the rocket in front of us. As we took off the wind rushed through us, oh what a thrill! Suddenly, Anne-Marie screamed (rather inappropriately I thought) but we couldn’t stop laughing when we saw Doreen trying to help her to dislodge the toffee apple from her ponytail!

Another silly mishap occurred on the Waltzers, when Grace opened her big mouth! Those burly fair ground chaps always flirt with the ladies, showing off as they dance on the moving platform and then spin the carriages around until you scream like hell. Grace looked quite green around the gills and foolishly asked the chap “Please don’t spin us again,” of course he spun us faster, “What’s that luv? You want me to spin you some more?!” Everyone was quite dizzy after that, so we opted for the gentle Ferris wheel next, where I clumsily dropped my handbag from the highest point on the wheel. Thankfully, a tall dark and ruggedly handsome fair ground chap picked it up and waved to me reassuringly from the ground. I was so relieved that he gave it back to me once the ride was over.

The dodgems are always such fun, especially when everyone gets a car each. I so thoroughly enjoy the sensation of driving myself and I do try to avoid the other cars after all; I think the clue is in the name, to ‘dodge em’.  Nevertheless there’s always some joker who likes to ‘bump’ and it’s most irritating being constantly bumped from behind. Ho! What a surprise! I looked around to see the culprit was Dudley, the mechanic from the garage across the road! What a cheek! Conveniently, another chap happened to whiz by and knock Dudley’s car for six! Once the ride was over, my dodgem car saviour introduced him self as William and invited the gals and I, to the Queen’s Head for a much needed glass of stout. Oh hello William! Of course we’re going on a date, hmm what shall I wear?

Visit my fabulous fashion boutique here…  www.bettylicious.co.uk

http://jennyjenny-yesterdaygirl.blogspot.co.uk/2012/08/bettylicious-everyone-loves-novelty.html

Saturday, 14th July 1950

Dear Diary,

For heaven’s sake! Sometimes I do despair with the males of our species, just what do they want?  I know it must have been absolutely shocking for them to endure the long war years far away from wives and sweethearts. Mind you, we gals had to make sacrifices too but at least we tried to stay faithful to one man at a time! 

A certain ‘gentleman’ (who shall remain nameless) absolutely charmed the socks off me when he popped into the hair salon the other day, asking for directions.  In retrospect I should have directed him straight to Dudley’s garage across the road and not bothered myself with the fellow at all. 

Of course he was the very personification of Prince Charming, smartly dressed with a sensual smile and wavy shock of blonde hair that shone like gold in the sunlight, as he casually brushed it away from his piercing blue eyes. His voice was elegant and educated, inquiring so very politely after the nearest Post Office. I directed him to the High Street, yet he held my gaze quite intently and smiled so sweetly that I just knew he wasn’t listening to a word I said.  He persuaded me to tell him my name and with a dramatic gesture he gallantly kissed my hand, then continued merrily on his way.

After about an hour, he returned triumphantly with a whicker basket in hand and invited me to the Park to share a delightful picnic with him.  Well what could I say? The other salon girls chuckled together insisting that I should go and take the afternoon off, I gave in eventually and hastily changed into the Rodeo halter neck dress for an instant dash of chic.

The picnic was a marvelous spread of cucumber and boiled egg sandwiches, pickled beetroot, and fresh strawberries with cream, washed down with a bottle of ginger beer. Heaven knows where he got the blanket and the picnic basket from.  He was such an entertaining fellow, remarkably well read and articulate, I was completely enchanted by his sparkling personality. I found myself falling for his charms and started to wonder if Mr. Right had finally breezed his way towards my heart.

However, the fantasy was soon shattered when two innocent young ladies happened to be strolling through the Park.  As they passed by my date called out, inviting them to join us on the blanket. The ladies certainly didn’t mean to intrude but I’m afraid to say that he gave them no choice! He was so dashing and attentive, using the same complimentary casa nova charm that he used on me. Well I never! I was utterly dumbstruck and totally indignant at such an overt display of flirtatiousness. Obviously one gorgeous girl wasn’t quite enough for this chap! I decided that enough was enough, so I picked up my handbag and expertly swung it around to smack his chops with a satisfying thwack, as I departed promptly with my head held high!  

Visit Betty’s fabulous fashion boutique here…  www.bettylicious.co.uk

Betty's Secret Diary - Friday, 22nd June 1950

Dear Diary,

What a relief!!!  I’ve arrived safely in Toddington for a much deserved summer holiday. I’m so very lucky to take a trip to the country and stay for a few days with my Great Aunt Matilda. Jeepers! I’m jolly lucky to have arrived in one piece, I’ve just survived the most frightful shock!

The train journey from London was straightforward; enjoying the view from the window I was quite relieved to escape from the rubble and smoke of London. The train soon arrived at Flitwick where I had to catch a bus to Toddington. What luck! The bus had an open top deck and it was such a breeze to ride ‘en plein air’. Every new turn in the road revealed a picturesque vista of idyllic country landscape. Bliss! We stopped at the quaintest village to pick up an elderly gentleman who carefully made his way up to the top deck. He nodded to me politely before sitting down as the bus trundled on.

After a while, the bus approached a fork in the road where I noticed a signpost warning of a low bridge up ahead on the left. I expected the bus to turn right but instead we continued left along the road towards the low bridge. Just then, the elderly chap turned towards me and yelled something that sounded like “Duck!” The rumble of the engine and the wind whistling past my ears made it frightfully difficult to hear, so I replied, “I beg your pardon?”  The old fellow pointed with a ghastly tobacco stained finger towards the open road ahead “Duck Bridge!” he shouted, gesturing frantically.  I was most befuddled, what on earth was the silly man talking about? I tried to ignore him discreetly.

Suddenly the bus conductor’s head appeared half way up the stairs, cupping his hand around his mouth to amplify his voice, “DUCK!!!” he exclaimed. The elderly chap promptly hit the deck lying prostrate on the floor, arms covering his head. At first I thought it was an air raid warning but then the conductor shouted again, “DUCK!!!” waving his hands frantically, indicating that I too should get on the floor. How absurd! Surely enough ‘Duck Bridge’ arrived rapidly into view and I realized what all the fuss was about! Phew!! I lowered my head just in time as the bus passed snugly under the low bridge arch, oh my goodness! That was close!!      

 

I was so thoroughly relieved to reach Great Aunt Matilda’s cottage and have a strong cup of tea to calm my nerves. We sat in the parlour and listened to the wireless. I rather enjoyed that new radio show “The Archers” but Great Aunt Matilda thinks it’ll never catch on.

Georgia Dress Peach

Visit Betty’s fabulous fashion boutique and read more from her secret diary here:

www.bettylicious.co.uk

Saturday, 5th May 1950

Saturday, 5th May 1950

Dear Diary,

Oh happy day!! Today my darling brother Lloyd has married Cynthia, the girl of his dreams. The whole day has been so gloriously magical, blessed with lovely sunshine all day and the bride and groom were both positively radiant. Mummy and Pops were so proud to see their only son marry such a smashing gal. Lloyd met Cynthia last year on a hiking holiday in the Pyrenees; it was love at first sight. He proposed at the top of a mountain, so terribly romantic.

The wedding was the most glamorous occasion and everyone was dressed so impeccably. Naturally I chose the sophistication and style of the teal Clara Dress with black satin gloves and a floral fascinator for my hair. I must say it was remarkable to see so many others wearing dresses from my boutique! Whilst the guests were waiting in church for the bride to arrive, I noticed how Beryl and Sandra (my second cousins twice removed) looked stunning as they arrived together, wearing the Vivian and Greta dress by Eliza & Ethan. Glancing around the other pews I spotted a lady sitting on the Bride’s side wearing the Louche Cosmia dress and another sporting the Hatty dress with a black wide brimmed hat, simply marvellous! 

At last the bride arrived wearing a bridal gown that was divinely extravagant. The ceremony was wonderfully moving and several Aunts wept as the choir gave an emotive rendition of ‘Ave Maria’. The reception buffet was a marvel of catering excellence, quite an impressive spread considering the current circumstances with rationing. I must declare that the wedding cake was certifiably real and simply delicious. I’ll never forget the wedding cake at my Aunt Emily’s wedding during the blitz. An elaborately decorated cardboard box ‘iced’ with painted plaster covered a plain old Victoria sponge cake underneath; it was quite a clever really.

I must admit I choked back a little tear when I failed to catch the wedding bouquet, yet I was shocked and alarmed that my mother did!! But dear old Aunt Matilda consoled me with a story about the origin of the bouquet tradition that dates back many centuries. She reassured me that it has absolutely nothing to do with becoming the next bride-to-be. The custom was for the guests to grasp at the bride’s clothing in an attempt to steal a momento in order to share the luck and happiness of the new bride. The bride would try to protect her gown, and escape the guests from chasing her by throwing her bouquet of flowers into the crowd. My goodness, I don’t know which scenario is more ghastly, poor Cynthia running away from the guests to preserve her dignity or the obligation of being a bridesmaid at my own mother’s wedding?

Visit Betty’s fabulous fashion boutique here: www.bettylicious.co.uk

Domestic Sluttery: Shop in the Shoplight: BettyLicious

Domestic Sluttery: Shop in the Shoplight: BettyLicious

Betty's Secret Diary - Saturday, 7th April 1950

Dear Diary,

Oh heavens to Betsy! I couldn’t help but feel more than a little nervous about meeting Tex Deckman at his friend’s photography studio this afternoon. I was in such a quandary about what to wear, so I just threw on the black Dita Skirt with a black Sarah Jane blouse and an overcoat. I decided that I should play it safe and take a whole suitcase of clothes to ensure the luxury of multiple choices for the photo shoot.

Tex greeted me warmly at the front door of a Camden address. He chatted excitedly about apertures and focus rings as he dragged my suitcase up a set of rickety stairs. We finally entered an attic studio with dramatic windows that extended over the roof, allowing the sunshine to illuminate the scene. Tex said that the first job was to put the kettle on.

After only a small sip of his tea, he busied himself setting up the camera and tripod. So I opened up my suitcase and proceeded to select an outfit. However, Tex insisted that I looked absolutely perfect in the skirt and blouse that I was already wearing. He became rather dashing as he explained about the importance of capturing a natural look to reveal the personality of a subject. So, happily I went along with his subtle directions and I really started to enjoy myself, posing as Tex snapped away with his camera.

After a while we took a break and we made another cup of tea. But clumsily Tex spilled my tea all over my blouse!! The tea was so hot I had no choice but to take it off pretty quick before my skin was scolded. The saucy devil started winking at me again! I must say he seemed jolly thrilled to see my Kiss Me Deadly Jolie bra.

Tex insisted that it was absolutely imperative to finish the roll of film and we had to hurry before we lost the light. Oh my! But because my blouse was completely soaking wet why not focus on the lingerie as a photographic subject? Well, he made it all sound so frightfully tasteful and artistic, so I dared myself to have a go. Tex suggested raising my skirt a little to show off my stocking tops for a low angle shot. Ooh! We did giggle when I nearly teetered over on my high heels. Eventually, my skirt disappeared completely to reveal the matching Kiss Me Deadly Jolie suspender belt and briefs.

Tex was over the moon! As he wound up the film roll inside the camera I thought he was about to kiss me, but instead complimented me on a first class performance as a photographer’s model.  Hmm, I quite like the sound of that!


Visit Betty’s fabulous fashion boutique here…. www.bettylicious.co.uk

Betty's Secret Diary 23 March 1950

Friday, 23 March 1950

Dear Diary

I say, rotten luck!! I am absolutely appalled to report a fashion faux pas of such monumental proportions concerning the arrival at a function only to discover another girl wearing exactly the same outfit!! The impact to one’s esteem can at best be described as utterly devastating. One would most certainly endeavor to avoid fraternizing with another similarly attired. Just imagine how absolutely frightful it must be toendure the unbearable misfortune of meeting TWO other girls wearing the same dress! Surely one would simply die of embarrassment? Furthermore, the shocking truth is that the three ladies inquestion were my very own salon girls, Grace, Doreen and Anne-Marie! Goodnessme! Those gals should’ve known better.

It happened at the Winkle Picker Club the other night, just before my singing performance on stage with “Chico’s del Liso” swing band. The girls had traveled separately on different buses, yet arrived together at the Club simultaneously. I greeted them with Mr.Fitzpatrick (the nightclub proprietor) who gallantly offered to take theircoats. One by one, the coats were removed to reveal each girl wearing the same navy blue Eliza & Ethan Mariah wrap dress with button detail. Gosh!! An awkward moment of uncomfortable silence prevailed!! Never mind, once the shock had subsided the girls howled with laughter. Grace, Doreen and Anne-Marie very gracefully shrugged off their enormous blunder and consoled themselves with a complimentary glass of bubbly.

Subsequently, it did seem peculiarly ironicto perform my stage routine with the costume changes as planned. For the opening number I chose the elegant classic Doris black ball dress accessorized with a super glittery marcasite choker necklace. During the second act I blossomed with the pink rose print halter-neck Swing Dress. The audience was ecstatic with applause as I invited the salon girls on stage to take a bow with me. I suppose they expected the girls to sing backing vocals?

During the show a particular gentleman did catch my eye, or rather made jolly sure that I noticed him! At every turn I was ambushed by an onslaught of flash photography. Throughout the performance a handsome chap with a jolly long lens and a glint in his eye nearly blinded me every time he fired off his shutter! Oh! The cheeky fellow kept on winking at me!

After the show he followed around the club,it was like having a faithful puppy dog at my heels. (I must admit I did enjoy all of the attention). Eventually the cheeky snapper plucked up the courage for a chat. I was surprised to hear a deep southern American accent as he introduced himself, “Tex Deckman, at your service ma’am, from the state of Tennessee”. Naturally, I allowed Tex to position himself strategically beside me for the rest of the evening as I took to the dance floor.

Betty's Secret Diary 3 March 1950

Saturday, 3 March 1950

Dear Diary,

This morning my regular ladies arrived at the salon for what we girls call the routine “curl up and dye” brigade. The salon was alive with the familiar lively chat and today’s topic was mostly about how to manage a family roast dinner on limited rations. I was rather pleased to learn one or two recipe tips for the best way to make ‘mock goose’ with lentils, apple, potatoes and sage. Of course there is always much speculation about when this cursed rationing will end. We’ve all had enough of making do and going without during the war, let alone since.

To be honest, the chatter of the salon has been the perfect way to distract my thoughts away from that disastrous cinema date with Jeremy. I was so very disappointed that he felt compelled to abandon me on the back row during ‘Brief Encounter’. I believe ostensibly that it was the very plot of the film that pricked his conscience. I wondered if Jeremy was struggling with an internal conflict about his own fidelity on that night? Surely, a dashing Squadron Leader of Jeremy’s calibre must be MARRIED?

This afternoon I found out the truth for certain, when the wretched newspaper boy delivered our Evening Standard on roller skates again. Apparently, the current trend from the States is to skate or cycle along the pavement and throw a rolled up newspaper like a V2 flying bomb through one’s front door. Nevertheless, the salon has its very own secret weapon against the paperboy’s missile, Doreen’s puppy Poochie promptly pounced upon the paper and tore it to shreds! I’m not certain if I was lucky to have salvaged an envelope from the wreckage, sometimes ignorance is bliss.  I discovered a telegram within the soggy torn paper, it read:

SORRY BETTY DARLING - SHIPPED OUT RAF POST IN FRANCE WITH WIFE - SWELL TIMES - THANK YOU XXX 

Astonishing!! Heart breaking!! Absurd!! Yet curiously satisfying that my hunch about the wife was spot on. Of course I was just a mere dalliance for Jeremy, something pretty to pass the time away whilst on leave! Oh but we did have such fun in the motorcar. Jeremy was always the perfect gentleman so nothing scandalous actually happened, apart from a Valentine’s dinner date that concluded with an early night alone. Ahh, but there was that moonlight kiss on Waterloo Bridge, hmmm…

Fiddlesticks! I sure do feel like the mock goose in this farce! Since the war we certainly do have a severe shortage of jolly decent chaps, mores the pity. There are just not enough of them to go around. Alas, romance is staying on rations these days.

BettyLicious

Monday, 20th February 1950

Dear Diary,

Well indeed, I must say I am rather baffled.  What should have been a perfectly romantic evening with Squadron Leader Jeremy Hunt has ended in complete disaster!  I am utterly confounded by Jeremy’s behaviour, surely it can’t be anything that I’ve done to upset him and heaven knows what the trouble is?

Jeremy seemed cheerful enough this evening when he came to pick me up in his red Morgan convertible. Luckily, I was ready long before Jeremy arrived, so with only three toots on the horn, I was whisked away into the night.  We motored around London’s West End for a jolly spree before parking outside a cinema.  They were showing a re-run of ‘Brief Encounter’ starring Trevor Howard and Celia Johnson.  Jeremy hadn’t seen it the first time around so I had to solemnly swear not to tell him what happens during the film.  I felt goose bumps as Jeremy paid 6d for two seats on the back row.

Jeremy had his arm around me throughout the Pathé News reel and when the Usherette arrived during the interval he was quick to get ahead of the rush to queue for a packet of cigarettes.  He returned triumphantly smoking a filter tip and offered me a boiled sweet from within a crumpled brown paper bag. We settled down to watch the main feature.

Towards the middle of the film I noticed Jeremy becoming rather a fidget.  He seemed so engrossed with the heart-wrenching story of the couple meeting secretly away from their spouses at the railway station café.  He was most definitely biting his nails during some of the more emotional scenes.  I couldn’t help it but I was starting to feel neglected. I foolishly assumed that Jeremy had no intention of actually watching the film.  After all, why go to the trouble of paying extra for back row seats?  I decided to take matters into my own hands and so gently squeezed Jeremy’s thigh in the hope that he would respond with affection.  Unfortunately, what was intended to be subtle and seductive became awkward and fumbled.  Suddenly, Jeremy jumped to his feet and made a hasty exit.  I was thoroughly mortified!  Oh dear, could I have really offended him so?

After a few moments I decided to go to find out what on earth was the matter with the poor chap.  I eventually found him, flustered and pacing up and down in the foyer smoking cigarettes like a trouper.  Jeremy took me in his arms so tenderly and held me close, saying that he’s been so awfully selfish and that I deserve much better. What was he trying to tell me and why wouldn’t he say it straight out?  Jeremy escorted me back to the convertible like a perfect gentleman and drove me home. So here I am in my bedroom all alone, nursing a cup of cocoa and wondering will I ever see my dashing fighter pilot again?

Tuesday, 14th February 1950

Dear Diary,

Oh my, what is a girl to do? I simply can’t decide what on earth to wear.  I’m so very excited about tonight’s date with my new beau, Jeremy. I met him last Saturday at the Winkle Club, after I had sung my final number. The Chicos del Liso Band played a shockingly up beat session that prompted a party of lively RAF boys to sweep many an unsuspecting girl onto the dance floor. Whilst sitting pretty, sipping a dry martini at the cocktail bar, a dashing fellow sporting a topper moustache gallantly escorted me to the dance floor and showed me his special moves.  I was enthralled to learn that Jeremy is an RAF pilot and I must say that he certainly has earned his wings!

I have to be ready by 7pm sharp because when Jeremy comes to pick me up in his Morgan convertible, he doesn’t like to hang a round. He says that a quick toot on his horn means that a girl should come running. What fun! To be whisked away for an evening of Valentine’s Day wooing. I wonder where he’ll take me? I do hope that he knows about that new French Bistro that’s just opened up in the High Street, with its cosy candle lit corners.  It’s simply the most divinely romantic place to dine, where a girl might just find a diamond ring surreptitiously hidden in her dessert.  That’s exactly what happened to my friend Grace, when darling Cupid fired his arrow in her direction last Valentine’s Day.  Her intended certainly didn’t bargain for a sudden shower of Crème de Menthe in the face, completely ruining his white dinner jacket with pale green spot stains. The poor girl nearly choked to death because the silly fellow hadn’t warned her about the engagement ring strategically hidden within her aperitif. (Note to self; make sure to double-check anything before putting into mouth).

Oh heavens to Betsy, I haven’t got long to get ready before Jeremy arrives and I’m still in a quandary about what to wear?  Choosing the right underwear is just as important as deciding on the right dress. I simply love the Jolie set by Kiss Me Deadly – a rather seductive combination of brief, bra and suspenders.  Naturally I’m going to wear black seamed stockings.  I wonder if Jeremy will receive the pleasure of watching me take them off!  Not on the first date mind…. Well, if I do get the chance to set alight his imagination this evening then I truly hope the poor fellow doesn’t suffer from a weak heart!

I’ve got two dresses from the boutique and both are simply gorgeous, but which one will make me positively irresistible this evening?  The red Alika Circle dress is oh so very playful and frightfully fashionable, yet the Eliza & Ethan Mariah Wrap Dress with button detail is seductively scrumptious and makes me feel like a doll.  Oh my goodness…could this be Jeremy’s car already?  Must go….

 

Sunday, 5th February 1950

Dear Diary,

Thank heavens for the Winkle Club, my one Saturday night sanctuary of sheer escapism! There I can sing on the stage and dream of a more glamorous lifestyle with no need to worry about dreary old rationing. Generally speaking though, since the end of clothes rationing last year I must say that I’ve enjoyed wearing a fuller skirt. That’s why I was delighted to show off my latest style with the side effects Polka Dot Dress for my sultry solo stage spot.

I do so admire Marlene Dietrich for singing numbers normally associated with male performers, that’s why I chose to sing "One For My Baby" to close the first act as a tribute to my heroine. The Chicos del Liso Band with a shockingly up beat session that really brought the house down accompanied the final number. A rowdy party of RAF boys, all having such a swell time on the dance floor, populated the club that evening.  The girls were totally swept off their feet!

After the show I colluded with the band at the cocktail bar, as we always do, in a toast to the success of the show.  Later, a familiar well to do voice called out my name and I was enthralled to discover the dashing R.A.F fellow I met at Dudley’s garage! Jeremy was sporting a topper moustache above his lovely smile and once again I dived straight into his cool blue eyes.  He very gallantly asked me to dance and of course I had to oblige, his skillful maneuvers almost made me swoon.

Later Jeremy offered to give me a ride home in his red Morgan convertible sports car, conveniently parked outside the club. Luckily I had popped a silk headscarf into my handbag earlier, so I was very glad to have it and slipped it over my hair before we sped off. Curiously, Jeremy took a wrong turning and we found ourselves parked on the Waterloo Bridge where I allowed him to steal a few kisses under the moonlight. Oh my, he is so very wonderful and I’m such a lucky girl to be courted by a dashing fighter pilot war hero!

Monday, 23rd January 1950

Dear Diary,

Oh my goodness! Doreen caused quite a stir when she arrived for work this morning. She was absolutely thrilled to present her new acquisition, ‘Poochie’ the Pug puppy.  Two adorable shiny button eyes blinked nervously as the cutest little pink tongue popped out of a squashed black face, licking everyone who gathered around to say hello.  How novel that Doreen had thought of carrying her puppy in her handbag!  I say this idea could well catch on as quite the latest handbag accessory! Ladies with lap dogs often have to put up with unsightly dog hairs spoiling their coats and skirts.  One can be sure that all types of doggy do’s can be safely contained when a pampered pooch is transported conveniently in one’s handbag!

However, things got rather out of hand when Doreen decided to put down her handbag as she hung up her coat. Poochie promptly leapt out and before anyone could say ‘Jack Robinson’ the naughty puppy was scampering towards the open front door!  Doreen shrieked as the little pug escaped into the street and nearly got trampled by the milkman’s horse.  Luckily, the runaway pup made a beeline towards Dudley’s garage across the street, so I followed in hot pursuit.

Thankfully, Dudley was working underneath a red Morgan convertible sports car and caught Poochie the Pug as he dived into the service pit.  Phew! Dudley emerged clutching Poochie in his oil stained hands. The little rascal was panting loudly with his tongue hanging out and wagging his tail. “Thank goodness!” I exclaimed as Dudley handed over the troublesome creature.

“Jolly nice catch Dudley, old bean!” said a well to do voice.  I turned around to face a handsome R.A.F. Officer smiling at me, obviously the owner of the sports car. “I just happened to be in the right place at the right time, I suppose” Dudley smirked.  “I say, aren’t we just? Jolly pleased to meet you my dear, Squadron Leader Jeremy Hunt at your service”. As Jeremy smiled my heart skipped a beat. “I’m Betty, pleased to meet you too”, I murmured. Our eyes met and I fell into the cool blue lake of Jeremy’s gaze.  The spell was broken as Poochie started to yap uncontrollably when Doreen arrived to put him back in her handbag.

Sunday, 1st January 1950

Dear Diary,

Happy New Year!!! Oh how terribly exciting to start the New Year with a new decade and a brand new diary! I’ve got a jolly good feeling about this year. I’m so looking forward to a brave new world of ration free fashion! 

The hair salon certainly has seen some exciting times since I opened the fashion boutique in the back parlour last year. The hairdressers, Doreen, Anne- Marie, Grace and Lucy have all been so helpful and terribly hard working. Bless those gals. I couldn’t have managed without them! So, I just know they’ll be simply beside themselves once they see the new Eliza and Ethan Vivian dress arrive from Los Angeles, California. This designer brand is of the highest quality with garments inspired by Hollywood glamour. Of course they’ll all want one!! This slender number comes in two colours black and berry or navy and turquoise. I predict a best seller!

So I’m in my bedroom now, listening to Grace (my flatmate) sing along to the tunes on the wireless. I’ve just put some wave lotion and curlers in to set, so my hair will be curling as I write…. Golly gosh, I’m still nursing my poor feet after all that raucous dancing at New Year’s Eve. Oh we had such a ball; my dance card was entirely full all evening! I suppose I really ought to be thinking about my New Year’s resolutions. Well, I’ve sure got some high hopes for 1950!

Number One. Introduce some of the most fabulously stylish fashion into the boutique!

Number Two. I really must try to watch my figure. (Which won’t be easy, especially as sweets rationing to come to an end last year).  It’s so easy nowadays to sink my teeth into a whole bar of chocolate! Well, we’ve have all developed bad habits at the salon, not to mention the tightening of a few corsets!

Number Three. I’ll finally meet Mr Right!  Last year saw quite a few disastrous dates! What on earth was I thinking when I agreed to let Thomas Dudley and his mucky fingernails take me out to dinner? Oh, and of course there was that awful scene when Gerard’s wife discovered our romantic dinner date. I left the restaurant wearing Beaujolais on my Dotty Polka Dot Dress! Oh dear, I still have a soft spot for Lord Anthony, the gentleman crook. Jeepers! He sure had me fooled! I must confess though, it was rather wonderful to be treated like a lady and taken out for high tea at The Ritz. This year I would just love to meet a more appropriate gentleman, someone handsome who will simply adore me. I’ve kissed enough frogs to last a lifetime!

Monday, 19th December 1949

Dear Diary,

Brrrrrr!!  The chilly winter weather is most definitely closing in.  There was a little flurry of sleet on my way to work this morning and I nearly slipped on the icy pavement as I got off the bus.  Thank goodness the coal man arrived to fill up the bunker.  Our regular chap is Mr. Stanley, an almost terrifying creature with piercing pale grey eyes gleaming out of a cheerful face blackened by coal dust.  The poor chap was bent double under the weight of the coal sack.  I always make Mr. Stanley a cup of tea when he delivers to the salon. 

Curiously our dear coalman has inspired me to give the salon girls a make over.  I’m going to issue a new staff uniform and introduce the Eliza & Ethan Black Pencil Skirt with grey pleat detail at the front.  The combination of pale grey against a luxurious black seems terribly elegant and formal for daily wear at the salon and can be successfully complimented with a variety of blouses in different styles or colours.

Some lovely new winter warmers have arrived for the boutique, so I spent the rest of the day busying myself arranging the mannequins.  These wonderfully stylish Izzy Bow cardigans in black or fire are an absolute must for any winter wardrobe.  Of course as any fashionable lady knows it’s simply imperative to be able to keep warm in style!   I’ve spotted quite a few ladies about town wearing a fuller skirt these days. Maybe the end of fabric rationing has motivated the start of a new trend?  So I’m thinking ahead and I’ve come to the conclusion that one can never have enough petticoats!  As the winter chill takes hold I’m sure that I’ll be wearing at least two at a time!

Sunday, 4th December 1949

Dear Diary,

What a surprise!  I’ve just had the most wonderful afternoon as my Mum and Dad called in at the boutique on a whim.  Oh, I was so pleased to see them! Daddy looked so proud as I gave the guided tour around the boutique and salon.  I must say that I am so very delighted to gain his approval.  After all, it’s not the done thing to be an unmarried businesswoman in this day and age.  Well, we’ll have to see about that!

Mum was rather more fascinated by the range of formal tops on display at the boutique.  She almost fainted when she laid eyes on the soft pink Tiger Lily Top and the Madrid Cardigan in pink and cream.  Of course she couldn’t decide which one she liked the best and so took both into the dressing room.  Of course Mummy looked utterly divine wearing both and so I insisted that she should have the Madrid Cardigan in pink and the Tiger Lily in blue.

The exciting news from home is about my brother Lloyd getting married in the spring!  Mum was asking if I would ever think about hats in stock at the boutique.  Hats are always terribly fashionable and certainly worth thinking about, especially as we are going to get dressed up for a wedding!

Happily, Mum had brought some of her fabulous home baked cakes.  So I put the kettle on and persuaded her to write down the recipe for me.

Honey Cakes

Ingredients:

1 teaspoon sugar

21/2 ounces margarine

2 teaspoons honey

6oz self-raising flour

1 level teaspoon cinnamon#

Method:

Beat sugar and margarine until a soft cream consistency.

Sieve flour and cinnamon then add to mixture.

Mix with a wooden spoon until it binds together, then knead with your fingers until you have a soft dough.

Break off a piece of the dough and roll it between your floured palms into a ball.

Place on to a lightly greased baking tray.

Flatten slightly.

Repeat until you have used up all the dough, when you should have about sixteen delicious honey cakes.

Cooking time about 15 Mins

Saturday 19th November 1949

Dear Diary,

Gee whiz! The boutique was astonishingly busy for a Saturday morning.  I think I must have sold every scrap of red material in the shop!  Several young ladies had formed a queue each asking for anything red in stock, dresses, scarves, hats or accessories.  Doreen and I considered this flurry of customers as a most peculiar occurrence, but as the day unfolded all became delightfully clear.

Mr. Fitzpatrick, the proprietor of the Winkle Picker nightclub has a nephew by the name of William.   He appeared at the salon just before we closed, with a red face and panting as if he had run all the way.  After taking a moment to catch his breath, William explained that the headline act for tonight’s show had cancelled and I was required to perform for the “Fire Cracker Show”.  The dress code for ladies is strictly RED.  How bizarre!  I was thrilled for another chance to sing, but horrified when I realized that there was simply nothing in red left to wear!   Thank goodness for Doreen, who very graciously lent me her red Ella Dress and selected gloves and a cute beret to accessorize in black. 

The Winkle Picker Club certainly observed a strict dress code and only allowed ladies wearing red to enter.  How extraordinary it was to see every girl wearing a red dress!  I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself when I recognized several faces from the queue at the boutique!  There’s something so magically sensual about a fantastically figure hugging red dress.  Yet remarkable to see so many appear at one function, decidedly daring!  I say!  The War is most definitely over!

Wednesday, 9th November 1949

Dear Diary,

Today I learned that there’s no such thing as bad publicity.  Since my brief dalliance with the escaped convict and con man Lord Anthony Parker Bowles (I’m not even sure if this is his real name) the salon and boutique has been extraordinarily busy. 

The London Evening Standard printed a mug shot of “Lord” Anthony and revealed the shocking story of a string of armed bank robberies and burglaries of stately homes.  No wonder he could afford to wine and dine me at The Ritz!  Thankfully my name was not mentioned in the newspapers, but the gossips have certainly associated my business premises with the capture of this notorious criminal.  The nosey parkers have come flocking to my door!  Happily, I have sold a record number of nylon stockings today and my appointment book is full up from now until Christmas.

Having to make a statement at the police station was the most troublesome aspect of this whole sorry business.  Of course the police couldn’t implicate me in connection with any of the robberies, although the charming rose necklace gift has been confiscated as evidence.  Apparently it was stolen from the Duchess of Cornwall!

Anne-Marie suggested that we to go to the cinema to take my mind off things.  We arrived in the front stalls rather early so we took the opportunity to reflect on the gossip before the film started.  As we were sitting alone in the movie theatre, Anne-Marie dared to confess that she has developed a serious crush on Dan the Projectionist who we had met in The Winkle Picker Club some weeks ago.  She was mortified when I reminded her that Dan could very well be listening from the projection room tonight!

Sunday, 23rd October 1949

Dear Diary,

A very disturbing incident today has left me bewitched, bothered and bewildered. A dozen red roses were delivered to the salon this morning, along with a note that read; “Can’t I tempt you?”  Obviously, another romantic gesture from Lord Anthony Parker Bowles.  I unravelled the wrapping paper but was completely shocked to discover a stunning diamond necklace entwined amidst the rose stems.  Oh my golly gosh!  The necklace must have been worth a fortune!  Carefully, I disentangled the necklace from the roses and held them against my wrist.  Oh my goodness, the diamonds sparkled so fabulously.  Well, Lord Anthony must be really keen to give such a valuable gift!  I put the gems into the till for safekeeping.

After lunch, a silver Bentley arrived outside the salon.  Lord Anthony himself stepped out from the driver’s side and made his way towards the entrance.   I thought it rather odd that he was driving, perhaps it’s the chauffeur’s day off, I wondered?  He approached me with arms wide open.  I pecked him on the cheek and thanked him for the wonderful bouquet.  Immediately, Lord Anthony inquired after the diamond necklace, which I dutifully retrieved from the till.  Laughing, he insisted that I should wear the diamonds and proceeded to fasten the necklace around my throat.

Suddenly, a police car arrived at the top of the street with lights flashing and sirens screaming.  Lord Anthony dashed for the door, clutching the diamond necklace.  Everybody in the salon gasped as he jumped into the Bentley and sped off, tyres screeching as the police car gave chase.

The next thing I remember was coming around on the floor of the salon, with Anne-Marie wafting some smelling salts under my nose.  Oh dear, I must have fainted!  A policeman stood beside her and asked me if I wouldn’t mind making a statement.  Such a commotion!  Lord Anthony it seems is an impostor!  Not a Lord, but an escaped convict and a con artist wanted for armed robbery and diamond smuggling!! 

Wednesday, 12th October 1949

Dear Diary,

Am I in heaven? Today has been an incredibly glamorous yet most intriguing sort of a day.  An unexpected romantic encounter this afternoon has left my head in a whirl. Everything appears to be perfect but there’s something mysterious about Lord Anthony Parker-Bowles.  Nevertheless, I find him strangely tantalizing!

The prettiest little gift-wrapped package arrived by courier at the salon this morning.  The girls gathered around as I untied the gold ribbons to find the sweetest porcelain pendant with a painted rose motif.  Attached to the inside of the wrapping was an embossed invitation to meet Lord Anthony for high tea at The Ritz!!!  The salon girls shrieked so loudly with excitement that an elderly customer under the hair dryer started to panic. The poor dear thought that the Blitz had started again.

A silver Bentley arrived outside the salon at three o’clock sharp.  I emerged suitably attired for tea at The Ritz.   The perfect choice was the sophisticated yet fashionable figure hugging Eliza & Ethan Greta Dress, in navy blue with the neat turquoise detail. Of course the essential accessory to complete the look was the rose necklace gift.

I must say that Lord Anthony looked very smart in his dark grey suit and yellow cravat as he greeted me at the entrance to The Ritz.  He was particularly delighted to see me wearing the rose necklace.  High tea was served in the Palm Court, with smoked salmon sandwiches and fancy cakes served together on a three-tier stand, simply sumptuous! 

Such extravagance, any gal would be completely overwhelmed by Lord Anthony’s lavish attentions.  However, when he divulged that The Arlington Suite had been reserved for us, I felt that Lord Anthony was becoming overly presumptuous and moving things along rather too quickly for my liking.  Of course I’m not that sort of girl, so I thanked him for an unforgettable date but gracefully declined his suggestion of afternoon delight.

Sunday, 2nd October 1949

Dear Diary,

Gee! The Jungle Jive Party at the Winkle Picker Club was a total sell out success. The dance floor was positively heaving and the clubbers looked absolutely fabulous in their fancy dress.  Most of the chaps were wearing their old khaki combat gear and knotted hankies on their heads.  Whilst the gals favoured animal print fabrics and evening gloves draped with ivy.  Of course I designed my outfit especially for the event. I chose the camel coloured Austen skirt and knotted a sleeveless white blouse at the waist, topped off a pith helmet and riding crop. 

The stage was dressed with fake palm trees, bunches of wax bananas and heaps of potted rubber plants, it looked like a movie set!  The Chico band dressed as gorillas and by the end of the night they were certainly behaving like a bunch of cheeky monkeys. Those Chico fellows sure know how to put on a fabulous show!  The club was really swinging as the band played a scorching medley of Benny Goodman numbers.  The surprise finale was a real crowd pleaser.  Oh my golly gosh!  I needed the riding crop to help keep my hemline in place when the Chico gorillas suddenly swept me off my feet then carried me off stage!  The crowd went wild with raucous applause.

Later, at the cocktail bar Mr. Fitzpatrick the Proprietor was positively beaming with delight and once again the champagne over flowed.  As we held our glasses high in a celebratory toast, a distinguished looking gentleman caught my eye.  Sitting alone in the corner, he raised his glass in unison and continued to hold my gaze.   He approached the bar tentatively and extended his hand warmly to receive mine. “Enchanted my dear,” he spoke softly “Lord Anthony Parker-Bowles, at your service.”  Naturally, I allowed him to escort me towards his cosy corner table for a private tête-à-tête. We spent the rest of the evening drinking champagne and discussing his enormous inheritance, a Tudor mansion in Hampshire.  Oh Lord!  

Tuesday, 20th September 1949

Dear Diary,

Oh Gosh!  Such a busy day at the boutique! New lingerie arrived this morning so I have spent much of the day dressing and arranging mannequins.  My favourite is the Sirena Limited edition. A sophisticated satin and lace matching bra and suspender set in platinum satin with black eyelash lace and bow trim. The heavy satin feels so luxurious and the six-strap suspender belt is a bonus for holding everything in place. I must say that the eyelash trim does tickle sometimes, but I don’t mind that at all!

Doreen, my chief hair stylist, ordered the Jolie Longline Black Bra and suspender belt with a pair of seamed nylon stockings to complete the look.  It’s Doreen’s wedding anniversary at the weekend and she’s planning to give her husband Malcom a delightful treat! Lucky chap!  I decided gift-wrap the lingerie with a pretty red ribbon and let Doreen take it home without charge. She was absolutely thrilled and so very grateful.  It was the least I could do for a loyal friend and stylist. After all Malcolm suffers terribly with shell shock since the War and Doreen does everything she can to keep his spirits up.  We must look after our War heroes! 

A splendid bouquet of lilies arrived this afternoon, accompanied by a mysterious envelope.  Everybody gathered around as Anne-Marie opened the envelope and read aloud the message on the card; “Ladies, I hereby honour my promise to open doors to the silver screen, Best Wishes, Dan XX”.  My goodness, there were four cinema guest tickets enclosed for the matinee screening next Wednesday, a wonderfully thoughtful gesture from our new friend, the cine projectionist. Good old Dan, he’s a thoroughly decent chap at heart really.  Wednesday is half closing day so we’ll have a jolly staff outing at the flicks!  I quite fancy seeing that new film noir picture starring Orson Welles, “The Third Man”.

Friday, 9th September 1949

Dear Diary,

During my solo performance last Friday night at The Winkle Picker Club, I glimpsed the sleek silhouettes of Grace and Anne-Marie cross the dance floor.  Each wearing a floral print Halter neck Swing Dress. Oh my they looked so glamorous!  The club was exceptionally busy that night and so thick with cigarette smoke that it was a trial not to choke mid chorus!  They both waved discreetly as I began the third verse of  “Honeysuckle Rose”.

Later, searching the crowded club I discovered Grace and Anne-Marie sitting in the corner with a mysterious gentleman.  The girls seemed almost surprised to see me. I sensed that I had interrupted something scandalous.

The smart looking chap was completely charming, introducing himself as a Mr. Dan Doyle who very gallantly offered me his seat.  When Dan departed in search of a vacant chair, Grace and Anne-Marie started to giggle uncontrollably.

Dan proclaimed to work in the film industry and proceeded to tantalize the girls with promises of  “getting them into movies”.  “A talent scout is always on the lookout for star material” he crooned.  Things almost began to sound genuine when Dan insisted that he could literally “open doors” towards the silver screen. 

Anne-Marie was becoming quite taken in by the smooth talking Dan, but Grace happened to notice that his shoes appeared to be rather old and scuffed.  Surely a gentleman of status would be wearing smart brogues?  Fair play to any fellow who tries everything to impress a gal, but Dan’s chat up line ventured dangerously towards desperation!  Of course, Grace eventually prized out the truth and Dan finally confessed that he’s only the projectionist from the Ritzy Cinema! 

Tuesday, 30th August 1949

Dear Diary,

Phew! What a scorcher! The sun has been blazing this week, so Grace and I decided to escape from the salon and take a day trip to Brighton.  We awoke at the crack of dawn and packed a delicious picnic basket with cheese and pickle sandwiches, potted meats, celery sticks and a few cup cakes for good measure.  Grace insisted that we slipped a bottle of sherry into the basket to enjoy a cheeky tipple whilst sun bathing.  We caught the early train and giggled continuously throughout the journey, we were so looking forward to our jolly day at the beach! 

For the sake of modesty and convenient practicality I thought it prudent to wear swimsuits underneath one’s clothes. Upon our arrival at the beach we simply slipped off our skirts and blouses ready to sunbathe in an instant.  Grace looked fabulous in her red Esther Williams swimsuit with white polka dots, whilst I felt terribly glamorous wearing a white Esther Williams bikini with the cute cherries print. 

It wasn’t long before two burly lifeguards were throwing admiring glances in our direction.  The chaps boldly approached and engaged us in polite conversation, introducing themselves as Hank and Butch. I must say I was rather impressed with such fine examples of muscle bound physique.  However, it quickly transpired that the handsome beefcakes were more interested in the line of our swimwear rather than admiring our feminine curves.  The chaps wanted to buy the swimsuits as presents for their sweethearts, so I happily furnished them with my business card.  I really don’t mind mixing business with pleasure!

Before meeting the train for our journey home, Grace and I took a stroll along the pier as the sun was setting.  We were at once accosted by a fortune telling gypsy, so I crossed her palm with half a crown and in return a tantalizing vision of the future was foretold.  Apparently I am destined to marry a millionaire!

Model: Stephanie Jay; Photography: Ian Malone Photography; Make up: Charli Gladwin

Model: Stephanie Jay; Photography: Ian Malone Photography; Make up: Charli Gladwin

Friday, 26th August 1949

Oh what a treat! Mr. Harold the traveling salesman came calling at the salon today. He was so very smart and charming with a sales pitch that would convince any woman to spend a small fortune on his delightful wares.  His battered suitcase was positively brimming with cosmetics, fancy scents, lipsticks, powder compacts and hairdressing requisites.

The sales patter began with the presentation of two bottles of scent.  I declined the first option; a ghastly looking yellow liquid called ‘Californian Poppy’ that simply smelt awful.  Instead, I preferred the rather more palatable “Evening in Paris” fragrance in the elegant black bottle complete with the Eiffel Tower embossed in gold. 

Mr. Harold disclosed that the latest fashion for lipstick would be a vivid orange colour. This unnatural but daring shade could be rather fetching, but dangerous if worn with the wrong colours.  Anne-Marie was very keen to sample this modern style and I must say it did suit her.

However I do wish that she hadn’t agreed to a demonstration of  ‘blue rinse’ hair dye. Anne-Marie had recently bleached her hair with peroxide and wanted a cool platinum blonde effect popularized by film star Jean Harlow.  The methylene blue rinse is supposed to take out the yellow tinge, but I fear that the lotion wasn’t quite diluted enough, so poor Anne-Marie emerged from the hairdryer in shock.  Her appearance was decidedly freakish, as the bright blue hair clashed severely with the orange lipstick.  Naturally, Mr. Harold was mortified, yet conveniently offered his entire range of beauty products as compensation for the blunder.   Poor Anne-Marie, she’ll have to wear a headscarf for at least a fortnight before we can rectify the matter with a new dose of peroxide!

Friday, 12th August 1949

Dear Diary,

Oh my! I’m having such a swell time!  Last Friday night was my first ever cabaret performance at The Winkle Picker Club with the band Los Chicos del Liso.  The evening had a nautical theme “Enchantment under the Sea”.  So the whole band was dressed very smartly as naval captains with peaked caps and gold braided blazers complete with epaulettes.  I was thrilled to be wearing an adorable sailor girl number with a fabulous full skirt and petticoats. Skirts ahoy!

The fancily dressed audience danced the night away and their applause was stupendous, the atmosphere was electric! I was so terribly nervous to begin with but once I got out there on stage and started to sing I had so much fun, I didn’t want the evening to end.  Two handsome fellows (who may very well have been real sailors judging by their neatly pressed uniforms) whisked me away from the microphone for a few twirls on the dance floor before gallantly returning me to the stage! The club was certainly swinging!

After the show, the Chicos and I celebrated at the cocktail bar with Mr Fitzpatrick who was chuffed to bits.  The club had sold out that night so the champagne was over flowing.  There’s going to be a fancy dress party every month, so next time the band will be on stage in safari outfits sporting a jungle theme.  Manuel the guitarist suggested that they should wear monkey suits instead. Everyone roared with laughter when Mr Fitzpatrick suggested that one of the Chicos should dress up as Tarzan and carry me off the stage!

Tuesday, 2nd August 1949

Dear Diary,

Oh how exciting!  My audition at the Winkle Picker Club was a total hit!  I had such fun meeting the eight-piece swing big band “Los Chicos del Liso” (The Smooth Guys) and so thrilled that I had chosen to sing ‘A Guy is a Guy’ with them.  The chaps are a fascinatingly maverick bunch of well-traveled fellows, all refugees since the Spanish Civil War apparently.  This tightly knit group of contemporary musicians still retains a flamenco root I’m so lucky to audition with musicians that add a flurry of gypsy passion fused with the jazz.  Each ‘Chico’ appeared smartly suited and devilishly handsome with a perfectly groomed Latin flair.  I couldn’t help noticing that most of them wore a wedding ring, just as well methinks!

Mr. Fitzpatrick the Proprietor was most definitely impressed, so I’ll be working the Friday night shows with the ‘Chicos’ band from now on!  Me oh my! Who knows what could happen?  Gosh! My secret wish has started to come true!  This could be the start of a glamorous new era on the stage!  Something was mentioned about pulling a few strings toward that elusive recording contract or West End audition.  Fingers crossed, before very long a talent scout or a movie producer could discover me.  Steady on!  Mustn’t get too ahead of oneself, my first show is this Friday!

Ooh so many preparations to make! I simply must become absolutely preened and polished at the salon over the next few days.  Doreen could do a special permanent wave for me and now that Anne Marie has perfected her manicure techniques she can give me the full treatment.  Oh and what to wear?  I wonder if I’ll have time to make something long and elegant in black satin, similar to the gown that Lola Falana was wearing?  Maybe I’ll go for the

Dolly Circle

dress?  Oh my Gosh!  I simply mustn’t be seen wearing the same outfit on stage twice!!