'I must admit, Sue, he's the dishiest thing for miles." "Yeah - and we haven't a hope of even speaking to him. You've got a steady boy and let's face it, I'm not exactly the most glamorous thing since Lynsey de Paul."So if you're in London, enjoy the exhibit... if not, keep reading the article and just image that you were there.
Sue really should have a little more faith. Within a few moments, Terry, best friend of square-jawed dish Ben, has crossed the curiously psychedelic disco in which they are loitering with a proposition. "I feel a twit ... but, well, my mate's on the shy side and he'd like to ask you to dance. Would you mind?"
It's an odd little tale of girl meets boy, girl discovers that boy only asked her out because he fancies her sister, girl is asked out by boy's best mate who - who knew? - has fancied her all along. ("I don't know whether we'll work out or not together, Terry. But you're kind, and gentle and nice, and maybe you can help fill the empty ache in my heart ... Maybe ...") It is short, unlikely and utterly banal, and yet in its own way rather gripping - a moving little melodrama conveyed in three short pages of speech bubbles and thought balloons.
Terry, Sue and Ben appeared in Jackie magazine on May 17 1975, the racier heirs to a genre established by the naughty boarding-school inmates and ballet-dancing heroines in the pages of Bunty and Romeo in the 1950s and 60s. And yet they, too, were a doomed breed. By the early 1980s, teenage girls wanted their cartoon-strip fiction in photos rather than drawings, and these glamorous, coltish young women, with their long-lashed eyes and gravity-defying breasts, made way for doughy teenagers with bubble perms photographed in their own clothes in suburban front rooms.
This romp through 40 years of adolescent girls' obsessions - ballet, boys and best friends - is captured in a new exhibition at the Proud Gallery in London, featuring picture and photo stories from publisher DC Thomson's stable of now-deceased teen girl magazines: Bunty, Romeo, Jackie, Patches, Blue Jeans. It features tales of spirited Scottish schoolgirls masquerading as obscure European princesses to attend the coronation, and blonde shopgirls who hide Donny Osmond in their boutique so he can escape crowds of fans, and spotty sixth-formers resentful because the new girl in school has stolen their best mate. But really, of course, it's about teenage girls - how vastly they changed over 50 years, and how profoundly they remained the same.
Boys! Boys! Boys!
From the Guardian: