Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1948)

p 74 feu!/ otiojifo Sj 4mm/ ohm What man can help adoring hair that gleams with natural high-lights and shadows — spa rk) es with silky softness — delights with clean fragrance. Your hair-style may he moulded precision, or wind-hlown abandon, it’s the hair-a/>/iea/ itself that matters. And more and more women of all ages are discovering that Lustre-Creme Shampoo brings out the lullest natural glory of their hair . . . Quickly (no special rinse) . . . easily . . . inexpensive ly. Not a soap, not a liquid, Lustre -Oream Shampoo is an amazing Four ounces, $1.00, Family 1 lb., $3.50. KAY DAUMIT INC. (SUCCESSOR) 540 NORTH MICHIGAN AVENUE, CHICAGO, ILLINOIS new dainty cream that whips up like magic in hard or soft water into mild, gentle lather that sweeps dullness away. Out of her wealth of cosmetic lore, Kay Daumit combined gentle lanolin with special secret ingredients to achieve this almostmagic new formula that leaves the hair so manageable. Say the name, Lustre-Creme Shampoo, at your department or drug store cosmetic counter. name next to last on my list. For it would be difficult to find a more perfect example of a man’s woman. Lana makes any man she is with feel he is the only person in the room — or even the world. She listens to him, laughs with him and, dancing, twines her arms about him and gazes into his eyes. However, Lana also behaves modestly. This in itself is intriguing. For anyone put together like Lana, with her penchant for daring gowns and extreme coiffures, is not expected to behave quietly and modestly. There finally is Jane Wyman. Jane’s no beauty in any orthodox sense. In spite of this she’s accepted as one of the most attractive girls in the film colony. She’s made it her business to know Jane Wyman — and to dress Jane Wyman to the greatest possible advantage. The first thing men see in Jane — I’ve asked dozens and the answer invariably is the same — is her zest and verve. With every move she makes, the way she walks and sits, listens and talks she conveys the idea that she is completely alive. So it goes in Hollywood. Consider the men’s women in your home town. See if it isn’t the same de Enables in them which add up to that indefinable something. The End St. Joe's Jane (Continued from page 60) Miss Wyman, jolting the old skeptic at whom she gazed. He ordered a zombie. It seemed appropriate. “I have lived in the same house six years and still can’t find the steps at night,” she said, laying dark glasses on the table. “I am farsighted.” Her greatest feat, worthy of the Nobel prize, is destruction of the suicidal tendency engendered by Dorothy Parker’s lament: “Men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses.” Miss Wyman was passed at and married by the dashing Ronald Reagan. “Ronnie can’t see either,” says Madame Reagan, who has no vanity. Ronnie is nearsighted. It killed him because he couldn’t get overseas with the cavalry, his wife says. He also suffered grave distress at the beach while tanning white circles away from his eyes. Chums would cry, “Pipe the shape hitting the waves!” Before Ronnie could locate his specs crying, “Where, where?” the shape would vanish. “He has got around that,” says Mrs. Reagan. “He has found that by pulling up the corners of his eyes he can see well enough for the occasion. Squinting helps nearsighted people for a moment.” Fear of falling is the only thing that makes Miss Wyman nervous in facing an audience. Before a show she makes a topographical survey of the stage. Once in Chicago a carpet was laid after her stage inspection. As she started to come on, elegantly lifting her jersey gown that had been stretched too far by the cleaners, she tripped on the carpet’s edge and entered horizontally, face down, floor up. There are times, Miss Wyman says, when rage steams up in her and she blows her top. This was such an occasion. She just lay indignant on her retrousse nose muttering into the carpet. The audience was startled. They had come in a mood for seeing glamour. Little could be seen of Miss Wyman above the footlights but evidently that portion pleased for the house shook with handclaps and whistles. “I knew I couldn’t top that,” says Miss Wyman, an experienced trouper, “so I reared up, took a bow and exited waving.”