More James Wedge fabulousness. I’m always delighted to find and scan a ‘new’ James Wedge photoshoot, and this one is adorable, despite lacking the trademark Wedge hand-tinted touch.
You never know when next you may stand revealed in the full glory of your underwear. Will it stand the test? Bare with us and we’ll show you how to steal even the most embarrassing scenes in these glamorous, seductive undies-to-get-caught-in.
Honey. December 1972.
Images scanned by Miss Peelpants
Underwear need not just be functional, it can be beautiful too. So with fashion becoming ladylike on top, perhaps it’s time to show some style and imagination on what you wear underneath.
From Honey magazine, December 1974. Photos by Monty Coles.
I want it all.
Images scanned by Miss Peelpants
Ignoring the slightly dodgy undertones in the title of this fashion spread, it demonstrates why I love the Seventies look so much. I’m a petite girl, with petite curves, and while I’m perfectly capable of going braless, I love bras. Sadly, very few styles appeal to me. I honestly wish I could go shopping in Janet Reger, in the early Seventies.
Scanned from ‘Screen Goddesses’ by Tom Hutchinson
Gone are the bad old days when all men were the same underneath – uniformly white and basically boring. As regimental and dull in their underwear habits as short back and sides. But things have changed. Men are beginning to realise what girls always knew, that what goes on underneath is just as important as what shows on the surface. And now the choice is enormous – bright stripes and jazzy prints, bikini pants and boxer shorts, slim-cut vests that could double up as leisurewear.
Scanned from Vanity Fair, October 1971. Photos by Marc Leonard.
Peregrine, my love, you make me feel quite naked when you look at me like that. I know my all in one is only a wisp of see-through Lycra, but a girl must have protection from such ardour. Now et out of the bath quickly: my husband may return any minute now.
Sometimes I just can’t help chuckling at the copy in vintage magazines. It’s also a helpful reminder that meaningless guff is not confined to the modern fashion press, but is a speciality of the genre. Although I don’t think most modern fashion writers would write such creative twaddle as this, which I think is another very disappointing aspect of modern life.
Aside from that, I love these photos. I want the flat, I want the lifestyle, I want the half-naked gentleman named Peregrine hanging around…
Peregrine my darling, you’ve made wet footprints all over the Aubusson. Just because you find me irresistible in my virgin-white control garment is no reason to abandon all self-control and respect for the decencies of civilised life. And besides, Edward’s Rolls will draw up before the front door at any second.
Peregrine, my angel, thank you for mopping up the bathwater, but a face towel just isn’t enough to confront the world in. I sppose I do look rather distracting in my near-transparent nude-look body-stocking, but then you, my lamb, are very distractable.
Peregrine, my precious, one kiss and then farewell; if we don’t get dressed soon, I shall be late for the Embassy reception and you will miss your bus. I know how you feel, but you must keep your hands away from my lace-trimmed pantie-girdle, however delectable it looks.
Peregrine, my treasure, you look divine with the light behind you in that ravishing Art Deco shirt, but I don’t think you are being quite serious enough about getting dressed. You are absolutely right of course; I look a work of art in my sexy satin undies, but I don’t plan to get hung by Edward just yet.
Peregrine, my beloved, all is over between us. Do up your shirt and depart. I hear the purr of my husband’s Rolls, and I must grab my mink and fly. Take a tender last look at my lissom loveliness clad in nothing but my slinky satin slip, and pop round and paint my portrait again next week.
There’s just something about Seventies lingerie shoots which floats my boat. Something about the vaseline-smeared David Hamilton/Sarah Moon-ness (even when it’s neither of them), natural (and generally smaller-scaled) breasts and the lingerie itself is completely my favourite style. It’s got that Thirties edge, but with a saucy Seventies twist. I don’t have any Zandra underwear, I’m mainly kitted out by Charnos if you really must know, but this amazing shoot makes me want some right now!
Amazing images, ludicrous etiquette I’m happy to be breaking on a regular basis, clothes I want desperately. Ahhhh……it has to be more from Vogue, June 1971.