We want to start out this issue of playboy with an apology to all our readers for the delay in handling subscriptions and getting copies to our news-stand dealers during the last three months. One cold morning early in December, a courier of the U. S. Post Office walked into our reception room and poured more mail into the desk than we had previously received in a week. Ninety-nine per cent of those letters turned out to be newsstand and subscription orders and they've continued to come in like that ever since.
Playboy is published monthly by the HMH Publishing Co., Inc., 11 E. Superior, Chicago 11, Illinois. Postage must accompany all manuscripts and drawings submitted if they are to be returned and no responsibility can be assumed for unsolicited materials. Entry as second-class matter applied for at the Post Office at Chicago, Illinois, October 14, 1954. Contents copyrighted 1955 by HMH Publishing Co., Inc. Nothing may be reprinted in whole or in part without written permission. Printed in U.S.A. Any similarity between the people and places mentioned in this magazine and any real people and places is purely coincidental.
Now, with the sun almost gone, the sky looked wounded – as if a gigantic razor had been drawn across it, slicing deep. It bled richly. And the wind, which came down from High Mountain, cool as rain, sounded a little like children crying: a soft, unhappy kind of sound, rising and falling.
Savile Row is a Pleasant Georgianstreet in London's West End, distinguished by the brass plates beside its austerely elegant doorways. The names on the brass plates belong to tailors, some of whom have their premises blocks away but keep one room on Savile Row because that address has, like Rolls Royce on a car radiator, an aura of ageless prestige, impeccable taste, and bottomless wealth. My battle with Savile Row began half a decade ago, after my junior year at Harvard, and it cheered me tremendously until my final disgrace.
Burning the Candle at both ends has been old stuff among top execs for some time. In the upper echelons of business, there's nothing particularly new or exciting in completing almost a full day of work in, say, Chicago, and spending the evening at a conference in New York. But, until recently, there was something very wrong with this way of life.
These little men live in every bottle of alcohol. You don't usually see them, but they're the fellows who knock over drinks and leave burning cigarettes on table tops when you've had one too many. Under the influence of an uncalculated number of very dry martinis, Virgil Partch managed to spot several of them scampering about his favorite bar, and being a quick man with the pen, he has given the soberer among us our very first look.
The Rumor, flying to and fro over the London grapevine, that Stanley Featherstone-haugh Ukridge, that chronically impecunious man of wrath, was going about the metropolis with money on his person found me, when I heard it on my return from a holiday in the country, frankly incredulous. I scoffed at the wild story, even though somebody I met claimed to have met someone else who had actually seen him with the stuff. It was only when I ran into our mutual friend George Tupper in Piccadilly that I began to feel that there might be something in it.
Advertising is a singularly competitive field and the men who promote the products the public buys are blessed with unusually high salaries and blood pressures. An ad exec's ulcer can have an ulcer of its own while he's sweating out a successful way to sell a client's toothpaste or beer. A model using, wearing or sitting in the product usually helps and an unusual gimmick sometimes helps too. A shirt company's business boomed when their ads started featuring a man with a patch over one eye and an English commander with a beard helped make a big thing out of quinine water last year. The best gimmick, however, is to make the model female and take off her clothes.
Being a Good Mixer doesn't just mean keeping in circulation at parties. It can refer to the manly art of combining the proper ingredients into that tasty symbol of Twentieth Century culture, the cocktail. How good a mixer are you? If you don't know, here's your chance to find out. Try matching these twelve cocktails with the proper recipes. A score of 8 is great; and 10 to 12 is simply fabulush.
There is no Better Hobby than modern art. Modern art is easy to learn, it is not habit-forming, and it is a relaxing hobby, because you can draw a picture in five minutes and spend the next three weeks lying around admiring it.
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