Radio and television mirror (Nov 1939-Apr 1940)

gleaming gold hair, also filled the prescription. Her quiet hands were tipped with rose-pink nails, and her eyebrows were long, sweeping ones, unplucked, medium heavy. I wanted to know something about what she thought of perfumes, and she thought enough to make an interesting little commentary to hand over to you. "They are more effective on the skin than on your clothing. Touch your scent lightly where the heart pulse is nearest the surface, like the temples, behind the ears, the inside of your wrists, and in the palm of your right hand." SHE knows what to do, but she doesn't often do it! Out of her array of perfume bottles, squat ones, slender ones, modern ones, quaint ones, she uses only a soupcon of fragrance, something light, something floral, something feminine. But she has mixed herself something special, something she wears on important occasions, which she won't tell about. It is a combination of several perfumes, and is so completely hers that the fragrance in the air says "Madeleine Carroll has been here." For her bath (she likes showers but rarely) she occasionally goes lushly luxurious. A milk bath, not from a cow but from a formula, or crystals, or scented oils. Afterwards, a sparkling cologne to tingle and to scent. Yet lots of times, none of these at all! And lots of times she turns out the bathroom lights and sinks into a restful doze right in the tub. Her hair is tied up, cold cream is probably on her face. If it is, she finishes up with some splashes of icy water, either after she removes the cream, or when it's still on. Sun and circulation, these are Madeleine's preaehments. For the former — to acquire a golden glow on your skin, take her advice and use plenty of oil. Lave in it, and when you're through with the sun, take a nice, warm bath with pure castile soap, and a hardy rub with a heavy towel. Her teeth are perfectly beautiful. She brushes them frequently, when she isn't using paste or powder, with a mixture of salt and bicarbonate of soda which gives you more cleanliness, more lustre, and eliminates acid. She keeps the mixture always ready on her bathroom shelf, and once in a while uses milk of magnesia instead, which serves the same purpose. The dentist cleans her teeth twice yearly, but no more, because she thinks so strenuous a cleaning, if done more often, would harm the enamel. She has her teeth examined, however, every other month. She drinks coffee, which she loves, but she takes it without cream. She also eats practically anything she wants, with judgment, of course, because proper food is necessary to good health. Every so often she goes on a diet. One of the main items of this diet is avoidance of liquids. Liquids, you know, are fine to put on weight, so don't feel virtuous when you take a glass of orange juice, or a cup of coffee between meals. You're defeating your own purpose. If you want to keep your figger the Madeleine Carroll way, include a lot of tomatoes and grapefruit, or grapefruit juice with every meal. Do it for four days a week; then eat what you will the following three days. Then go back to it for another four days, and you're through. You can have spinach, two lamb chops and saltine crackers in lieu of bread. And the last day, which is the fourth, you can substitute broiled chicken or broiled fish for the lamb chops. The wisest way is to eat your biggest meal at noon, so that if you go to bed early there isn't a lot of food lying in your stomach during the night. This, incidentally, applies to anyone, any time. It's conducive to good digestion. And make your breakfasts, when you are on this diet, light ones. A sliced orange, or half a grapefruit along with plain coffee. And don't forget — no liquids between meals. As for make-up — she wears practically none, during the day. Only lipstick. And for the three hours or so that we sat in the Derby, she didn't even use that. It was a little mystifying how, without retouching, her mouth remained scarlet, smooth and satiny. She explained that she put her lipstick on, in the beginning, with a maximum of care. Edges were meticulously gone over for outline. When her lips were completely rouged, she waited a moment for her mouth to "set," then blotted the surplus on a tissue. Then she went over it again. This kept her lips perfect until eating disturbed them. With nothing but her lipstick to remove at bedtime, and a face that has been washed several times during the day, she doesn't need to indulge in any complicated routine of make-up removal. Soap and water and a little cold cream do the trick. At night, her make-up includes face powder and a little mascara. This very slight gilding of the lily is a far cry from the days when she first arrived in Hollywood. Then she believed that she must emulate someone great if she wanted to be a success. She picked out her "someone great" in the person of her screen heroine, Marlene Dietrich. She did her face like a snowy mask, tricked up her eyes to look enigmatic, kept the eager, vital, interested lights out of her face — and became expressionless. BUT as time marched on, Madeleine was neither too happy nor too successful in Hollywood. She returned to England and to herself. She made "The 39 Steps" with Robert Donat, and "I Was a Spy," and was splendid in both. Then she was recalled to Hollywood. She made her re-entry a wiser and more beautiful girl. No longer was she a copyist. Off came the Dietrich mask and out came her own radiance, her own natural personality. Boom! She was asuccess! "Don't you do anything besides diet occasionally for that beautiful figure of yours?" I asked. "Oh, yes," she replied. "Ballet. Three times a week. Not because I want to reduce, nor because I want to be a dancer, but for the exercise, and above all, because it gives me a good carriage." And now it was time to end our beauty talk. But there was one more question, and I asked it: "Look, I said, "how about the girls who weren't born beautiful? What can they do?" "They," she said, "can try as I try. And they can remember the advice my mother always drummed into me when I was a little girl. 'Madeleine Carrol,' she'd say . . . 'Be beautiful if you can — Be witty if you must — But be amiable if it kills you!' "And that's why," she added with a smile, "I have such a good disposition!" RADIO AND TELEVISION MIRROR