Showing posts with label Dare Wright Photographer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dare Wright Photographer. Show all posts

Love, Life and Lipstick. Smart Girl in a Smart Restaurant - 1958

From the Good Housekeeping Magazine, December 1958, we are given advice on how to behave at a restaurant. A lot of this can be summed up with "..grin and bear it".

It's lots nicer than eating at Joe's diner, and no harder, if you know the ropes.

Do you have to check your coat?

Boys must; girls usually don't, unless it's a restaurant where there's dancing.

Does a girl give her order to her date or to the waiter?

It's more gracious to give it to your date; but not all boys-and not all waiters-have been briefed on this convention. If your date seems uncertain, or if the waiter looks at you expectantly, speak directly to him.

What do you do if the order's wrong?

That depends. If the waiter actually brings the wrong food, tell your date, and he'll have the waiter change it. If something's not cooked as you like it -too rare or too well done-our advice is: grin and bear it. Sending things back to the kitchen is tricky business, and you're likely to end by embarrassing yourself and/or your escort.

What if you want to visit the ladies' room?

It couldn't be simpler. Just say to your date, "Please excuse me for a minute." Don't make any coy references to the "little girls' room." If you don't know where it is, ask a waiter. (He answers this question roughly fifty times a night and is not at all dismayed by it.)

Should you tip a ladies' room maid?

Yes. Give her fifteen cents unless you've asked for some special service. Don't let the display quarters in her coin dish fool you. They're usually come-ons.

What about table-hopping?

The less, the better. If you see someone you know, smile and nod inconspicuously. Or stop for a second on the way in or out to say, "Hi." But don't stand around-somebody's food is bound to get cold. And don't suggest making foursomes of twosomes. Restaurant tables aren't elastic, and it's a fair assumption that people are together because they want to be together, not part of a mob.

Christmas Surprise - What To Give Dad - A Mother / Daughter Makeover! 1958

"Christmas Surprise - How one family solved the problem of what to give Dad."
Just go to the Good Housekeeping Beauty Clinic and go from "Harassed housewife to chic matron" and "From careless teen-ager to gracious, groomed young lady"

"Here's how they did it!"

"He's so hard to buy for!" The cliche fitted Mr. Joseph Ambrosia, of New York City, to a T; but Mrs. Ambrosia and nineteen -year-old Sandy found the perfect solution. Their Christmas present to Dad this year: a dramatically prettier wife and daughter. The transformation, supervised by our Beauty Clinic, took about two months, but didn't interrupt business-as-usual for Mrs. Ambrosia, a housewife, mother of four, and dedicated church worker, or for Sandy, a Good Housekeeping secretary, drama student, and a bit of a butterfly. Was their "present" a success? We leave it to you. Look at the pictures on the following pages, and see what you think.

A ban on nail biting was the first step for both Ambrosias. Sandy was a cuticle-chewer, too. But weekly manicures in the Beauty Clinic and the delight of having good-looking nails strengthened their determination. Once a day, Sandy smoothed on cuticle cream and her mother soaked brittle nails in nail hardener. Mrs. Ambrosia pampered rough hands often, with cream or lotion, and took to wearing gloves for every household chore. Results? Just see the pictures?

Sandy's eyes are brown and almond shape. And they smile when she does. But they needed a touch of boldness. We plucked the mischievous hairs beneath and between her brows, giving them a clean outward sweep. Shimmering green eye shadow contrasted with dark eyes, and long, thick lashes were tipped with mascara.

Make-up for the office had meant lipstick only-until we gave good reasons and showed results to our amateur actress. On Sandy's naturally oily skin, we used dry cake make-up. Contour curves under the eyes were lightened with ivory-tone foundation. A prominent chin retired with a darker foundation. Two powderings - the first as a prime coat, the second as a finish -prettied the clearest skin Sandy ever had. Her expressive eyes (the envy of the Beauty Clinic staff) are described above. Lipstick in a Christmas pumpkin shade was simpatico with her coral dress and nails.

Dad's biggest presents were his girls' new hair styles. All year long he had been hinting, in tactful male fashion, that Sandy and her mother have their hair styled. He'd tweak Sandy's pony tail and point to his own easy-to-manage hairdo.

The miracle of posture. Before her beauty course, Sandy walked and worked as though she had weights on her ears. Before: head and shoulders drooped, chest collapsed, as she read the paper. After - packages held at waist level, head high, chest expanded, back straight, shoulders wide.

It took courage for Sandy to part with her pony tail. Her last haircut had been a full year before. But after a few minutes of deft cutting and shaping, our gamine began to emerge. Gone were the unruly bangs, the wispy temple hairs, the long tress with its plaguing split ends. Sandy made one plea when we were styling her hair: "Please give me a hairdo that doesn't need much setting." We chose a short, face-framing style, with a smooth crown and sides that curled ever so gently about the ears. Sandy's fine hair curled willingly and stayed pretty-with the promised very little setting - when hair spray was used to set and hold it. A hair rinse, which added red highlights, also gave it more body. And a nightly routine of vigorous brushing rewarded Sandy with newly lustrous locks.

Sandy's complexion had always been her pet peeve. Like so many young skins, hers was oily and often dotted with blemishes and blackheads. Her new beauty regimen called for frequent lathering with medicated soap, followed by lots of hot, then cool, water and an astringent. At night, she hid her blemishes under healing cream, and twice a week applied a facial mask for oily skin. A wholesome diet, with no blemish - making sweets, clarified her skin in two months.


Mrs. Ambrosia impatiently waited her turn in the beauty chair. Like many busy women, she bad long ignored the feminine arts for more practical matters. Now she was in a rush to become a "new woman." We cut her hair and fashioned a short, pert style, with hair brushed up and back from the sides and pouffed high on top in a modified Empress coif, to slim her roundish face. A gentle, rod-type permanent disciplined her soft, fine hair, giving it body and a naturally curly look. Dandruff disappeared under the persuasion of a good antidandruff treatment, administered with weekly regularity. The final touch was a rich coppery rinse, which gave her dull locks new vitality.

Two figure problems confronted Mrs. Ambrosia: padded bips and poor posture bothered her in every costume. We gave her a series of exercises to tone and tighten the little bulges. A faithful student, she exercised 20 minutes every busy day. The result: waist and hips measured two inches smaller. "I'm going to keep it up," Mrs. Ambrosia told us. "I feel more nimble." A balanced, low-calorie diet trimmed off seven extra pounds in two months. Exercise improved her posture, gave her a confident air.

"Dry skin makes me look older," she said. We agreed. Early in the game, we explained to Mrs. Ambrosia the gifts of moisture lotion. It worked softening, dewy magic while she slept and under daytime make-up. A creamy foundation, instead of her customary "just powder," was a buffer against sun and wind. Peachy powder livened her pallid complexion. Lifting and lengthening scanty brows with eyebrow pencil and Christmas-green eye shadow on lids gave importance to subdued eyes. Cheating with a Santa-Claus-red lipstick, to give a generous mouth, made her look the winsome matron she is.