Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1936)

:00 PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE FOR DECEMBER, 1936 CLARA OGILVIE World Authority TELLS HOW TO MAKE YOUR HRIR Heighten your personality for the holiday season "Simple as the 'rule of three', with one added for good measure: (l) Daily Cleansing, (2) Daily Brushing, (3) Daily Massage, and (4) Shampooing every two weeks. Do it all at borne, for a few cents a day! "Be sure to select the cleansing tonic proper for your personal hair condition (dry, oily, fading, falling, containing dandruff). Select the proper brush, too, one with long, flexible bristles . . . for the proper rhythm. For the shampoo, Ogilvie Sisters' RECONDITIONING OIL is the most effective, luxurious hot oil shampoo I know. We made it that way. "Ask for instructive booklet at any Toilet Goods or Drug Counter, or at one of our salons where our treatments are given. Consultation FREE." At these same counters, see the OGILVIE assortment of brushes, and hair fragrances. Also, that smart OGILVIE METHOD KIT for men, complete for travel, in a good looking real leather case with zipper fastener . . . just the gift for a man. (Dq ilute, Slatm 604 Fifth Avenue, New York 50 East 42nd St., Hew York (Exclusively for Men) Paris Washington Canada They Waited Two Long Years for Love [ CONTINUED FROM PAGE 33 ] It couldn't be. He didn't mean it. He'd forget. To salve her hurt in case he did, Maureen said, "Let's make it a week from Friday." And silently she told herself that anybody could he forgiven for breaking a date made that far in advance. Thus she was determined to make her heart's letdown easy. Came Friday and a week from Friday, and Maureen told herself that, of course, he'd forgotten. Why shouldn't he? A date made that long ago! It was a wonder ev"en she remembered! She told herself all that firmly, then went right out and bought herself a new dress. It was black, and it fitted tightly and the salesgirl said, "It's really very sophisticated." But when Maureen got it home and tried it on she wondered if it weren't too sophisticated. He'd think she was purposely trying to look older for him, trying to vamp him. Didn't all vamps wear black? Maureen put it back in its box and angrily pushed down the lid. She'd show him! She'd wear the very oldest,, silliest, most girlish thing she had! That is, of course, if he gave her the chance. Glancing at the clock, she doubted that he would. T HEN suddenly he was there. Her friend ' came up to announce him, and to tease. "You're going to have your heart Broken, little giri, and don't say I didn't warn you." Maureen preferred to ignore the taunt. "Tell him I'll be down in a minute, Dorothy, will you please? I'm not ready. Honestly, I forgot all about it." She joined him a half hour later. She was wearing a red flowered thing and a red hat — the oldest thing she had, but at least it was comfortable. It was one of those evenings of terror that every young girl goes through when she first leaves the security of boy friendships and first steps out with an older man. What to say to be interesting? How to act to be intriguing? How not to let him think you are flattered? That the evening was a miserable failure she was sure. He had just come from a cocktail party at Elsie Janis'. After the brilliant Miss Janis, surely her quietness, her shyness was a letdown. They had dinner at the Biltmore. They danced at the Grove. He deposited her on her doorstep at the ungodly early hour of twelve-thirty. "See," she told herself as she went in. "He was bored to death. I'll never hear from him again." The next day he phoned and sent her flowers. You see you never can tell in what manner love begins. This was the beginning of a courtship that n as to last six years. It had its first setback in May. There was that sunshiny morning when Maureen was summoned to that fearsome front office to be told in plain words that she must stop seeing John Farrow. Maureen will never forget it. It was quite like a scene in an old love drama. The wise old heads behind the desk, wagging bony fingers, waving a parental wand, forbidding "Maytime its heritage." "Mr. Farrow is a charming gentleman, we know that. But you're a very young girl, and he has been married — well, it just doesn't look right. It wouldn't look well for you to go too steadily with anyone. Keep in circulation. Go out with the younger men, the younger stars. We'll see that you meet more of them." And so they talked, like medieval characters. And so Maureen listened. Apparently docile, agreeable, willing to cooperate, but behind the deepening red of her cheeks the Irish temper was stirring. Only one thing made her hold her tongue. "You know your mother left you in our care. We're only doing what we think she would want us to do." For her mother's sake then, she kept still. It wouldn't be fair to have them alarm her. But stiil the whole thing was preposterous. To be put on the carpet like a small child, when she was already a full-fledged actress, making her way in the world. To be told with whom she should and should not go out. Yet, as Maureen was to find out later, this same melodramatic scene is played time and time again behind Hollywood doors. Other actresses, too, for their career's sake, have had their heartstrings tied up in knots. But few such scenes have ended with a curtain line to equal the one that Maureen heard now. "Oh yes, we almost forgot to tell you. We've engaged you a chaperon." "I'm sure that would have been the final straw," Maureen said in recalling the situation. "Except at that instant the door opened and they brought her in, and she had one of the nicest faces I had ever seen, and I knew right then and there that I just couldn't do anything that would make her feel badly. We shook hands and she said she was so glad we were going to live together. "Of course, that was a bit of a surprise, too. I was to give up my room at the Studio Club, and go house hunting! But it worked out rather well after all. We found a lovely little house, and I inveigled Aggie to let me invite John to tea. With the inevitable result that she liked him and didn't see why I shouldn't see him now and then if I wanted to, but of course, Fox mustn't know. So among the three of us we rather fooled them in the end. "IT'S funny, though, everyone tried to tell ' me I was foolish. I remember when I told one of my friends about the trouble at the studio she said, 'Well, I think it's good advice, and you'd better keep in with them. Besides the romance won't last. Why. ten years from now when someone mentions the name of John Farrow you won't even be able to remember it.' Now isn't that rather funny, in as much as it's my oun name now, too! "Still at the time I didn't dream that we would ever marry. Marriage then seemed a long way off; to me it had always seemed staid, settled, something you got around to along about thirty. I didn't think of it then. Neither did John. We just I being to gether, waltzing at the Cocoanut Grove, dining at some out-of-the-way place, taking long walks together on Sundays. I used to love to hear him talk of the places he had been. He was born in Sydney, but at fourteen he had run away to sea. He had been around Cape Horn twice. He had been in nearly every country of the world. Naturally I found all his experiences very glamorous and thrilling. They meant only one thing to me ... he was a man of the world . . . and the marvel of it was that he was also interested