A digital recreation of an article published in French Frills Magazine Vol1 No1 from 1960
Paris has long been the world’s number one style center, dictating female fashion in all civilized parts of the globe. There is a very good reason for this – the mademoiselles de Paris are a sexy, high fashion lot to begin with. It is only natural that they should be clothed with the most imaginative and tasteful flair for style in the world.
Let us examine one of these juenes filles to find out her secret of true femininity. First of all, as we look at her in the buff, without a stitch of clothing to obscure the view, we note that she is already the essence of femininity. Long, tapering legs – generous (but not too generous) hips, a tiny waist, a smooth flat stomach, saucy breasts, delicate, flawless shoulders, graceful neck, pert face, carefully coiffed, hairdo, full, sensuous lips, eyes which taunt" bedazzle and invite exploration of the rest of her charms.
Now let’s see what happens when she starts to put clothes on this beautiful body. The first thing we notice is that each piece of clothing is designed to enhance her beauty by an artful combination of concealment and revelation. She is exciting in herself, but that is not enough. First she dons a wisp of lace that serves to hold her long sheer stockings in place.
It is sheer pleasure to watch her put on her clothes – her every movement advertises that she is aware of delights which she alone among women knows fully how to share. Whether or not you have already tasted these delights (and chances are, if you’re watching the young lady dress, you have), your eyes are held spellbound by the sight.
Shoes with skyscraper heels now go on those tiny feet. She picks up her dress, holds it over her head, stretches her arms up and wriggles into it. Please, Monsieur, help me with the zipper?" As she moves, her clothing makes soft feminine sounds as her petticoats susurrate against nylon-sheathed legs. A delicate aroma of mystery emanates from her perfect body – she uses expensive, provocative scents as her calling-card. You may not be certain what the scent is called, but it calls – and you come running.
This is the woman of Paris, the mademoiselle who inflames your desires, the coquette who wears French lace next to her skin and the French philosophy of amour in her heart. She is a Gallic confection of smooth silk, sensuous nylon, frilly French lace" the provocative scent of expensive perfumes, the inviting texture of carefully powdered flesh, the firm resilience of young muscles. She is as timelessly beautiful as Paris itself.
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If it was published in a 60s French Frills magazine, there is a good chance that the photos were taken by Elmer Batters, and the model, of course, would have been living in Los Angeles. I appeared in French Frills, Vol 3 (1963).