A digital recreation of an article published in TOPPER’s May issue from 1965
Ah, sweet Narcissus, dark flower of loveliness, why is it the Freudians use you as such an altogether disagreeable symptom of vanity? We wouldn’t know, but when a girl like Bobbi takes it into her head to admire the curves we’ve been admiring all along – and then lets us photograph her in the process then the Narcissus becomes a rose by another name.
Bobbi actually is not a Narcissist in the Freudian sense at all. And it was only after much cajoling that we convinced her that her body was the loveliest in the land and that her body alone would do justice to the black mood of the studio and tempting image of herself in a mirror.
Of course, she agreed for Bobbi is a most agreeable lass. Easy to look upon from dawn to dusk or from stem to stern, having all the curves properly in the right places and filling them with delightful specifications. Her budding topdeck flowers out to 36 inches, the middle of her trunk a delicate 22 which makes her root section eye-pleasingly 35.
No thorns on this rose named Narcissus, but a sparkling wit that kept the studio crew in stitches during the plucking of the flower. And the pictures speak for themselves; so what could we say save that Oh, to be a mirror now that Bobbi’s near!