1970s Women’s Magazines

The 1970s was a decade marked by significant social change, including the feminist movement, which influenced a significant evolution in women's magazines, reflecting cultural shifts, feminist movements, and changing societal norms. The revolution in fashion magazines saw some begin to reflect the eclectic styles of the era, for example Vogue and Harper's Bazaar. These publications not only showcased fashion trends but also served as cultural barometers, introducing readers to new designers and political commentary intertwined with fashion.
Key publications began to address women's rights, sexuality, and personal empowerment more openly, reflecting the evolving roles of women in society. Magazines became platforms for discussing issues that were previously considered taboo, contributing to a broader cultural dialogue about gender equality and women's liberation. They played a crucial role in shaping public perceptions of women's issues, offering a mix of lifestyle content, feminist discourse, and cultural commentary that resonated with readers during a time of significant change.

Cosmopolitan (stylized in all caps) is an American quarterly women’s fashion magazine for entertainment first published based in New York City in March 1886 as a family magazine. Known for its frank approach to sex and relationships, Cosmopolitan became a leading women's magazine during the 1970s. It offered practical advice on careers and relationships, blending accessible feminism with lifestyle content. The magazine's bold editorials and features helped shape the discourse around women's rights and empowerment during this transformative decade. The magazine’s circulation continued to decline for another decade until Helen Gurley Brown became chief editor in 1965 and radically changed the magazine. Brown remodelled and re-invented it as a magazine for modern single career women, completely transforming the magazine into a racy, contentious, and successful magazine. As the editor for 32 years, Brown spent this time using the magazine as an outlet to erase stigma around unmarried women not only having sex, but also enjoying it. Known as a "devout feminist", Brown was often attacked by critics due to her progressive views on women and sex. The magazine eventually adopted a cover format consisting of a usually young female model (or prominent female celebrity), typically in a low cut dress, bikini, or some other revealing outfit. The magazine set itself apart by frankly discussing sexuality from the point of view that women could and should enjoy sex without guilt or shame in all cases. The first issue under Helen Gurley Brown, July 1965, featured an article on the birth control pill, which had gone on the market exactly five years earlier.

British Vogue (stylised in all caps) is the British edition of the American fashion magazine Vogue. The magazine was launched in 1916 by Condé Nast, linking together fashion and high society. British Vogue is the third most profitable edition of Vogue worldwide (other than the American and Chinese editions). The magazine is published monthly twelve times per year. Within the United Kingdom copies of the magazine come without the 'British' in the 'O' in the publications logo.

Elle (stylized in all caps) is a worldwide magazine of French origin that offers a mix of fashion and beauty content, and society and lifestyle. The title Elle means She in French. Hélène, Elle's pioneering founder, returned to Paris from New York City to create a unique publication that grappled with the many forces shaping women's lives in France in 1945 Women won the right to vote in 1944, and Elle dove immediately into long-form "newspaper-like" features on women's role in national politics and the growing feminist movement. Elle would "celebrate a new type of woman: independent, modern, active, comfortable in her own skin and her time". On 2 April 1956, Grace Kelly appeared on the cover of Elle France, a few days before her marriage to Rainier III, Prince of Monaco. On 16 July 1956, Elle France featured Marilyn Monroe on the cover. By the 1960s, Elle had a readership of 800,000 across France and was said to "not so much reflect fashion as decree it." This dominance was reflected in the famous slogan: "Si elle lit elle lit Elle (If she reads, she reads Elle)" Beverly Johnson became the first Black woman on the cover of Elle when she appeared in the 1970s. Lagardère Group subsidiary, Hachette Filipacchi Médias began pushing Elle outside of France in 1985, launching Elle in the UK and the United States.

Nova: This British magazine ran from 1965 to 1975 and was notable for its focus on current affairs, fashion, and taboo subjects like homosexuality and abortion. Nova challenged traditional women's magazine norms by avoiding recipes and knitting patterns, instead showcasing high-quality photography and serious journalism. It became a platform for discussing women's issues in a more progressive context.

For the more mature woman
People's Friend: a British weekly magazine founded by John Leng on 13 January 1869 as an offshoot of The People's Journal. The magazine is principally aimed at older women.[6] Each issue contains at least seven self-contained short stories and two serials (frequently more), a craft project (usually knitting or sewing) and various factual articles, one of which is a piece on a particular town. Pets, family and traditions are also common themes. During World War 1, the focus of the magazine shifted to women. The magazine's geographical location in Dundee is reflected in a general bias toward Scottish subjects. The main front cover image is invariably a painting of a picturesque location somewhere in Britain or Ireland, and readers can also buy prints of these pictures.

Woman's Weekly magazine was launched in 1911, focusing on the home, family and lives of grown-up women, providing them with health advice and hints on how to feel good.

My Weekly: a magazine for women published by D. C. Thomson & Co. Ltd of Dundee, Scotland. It tends to consist of short stories, reader contributions, knitting or sewing patterns, and celebrity gossip. There are no real life horror stories. My Weekly is a warm and welcoming women’s magazine. We’re proud to be your feel-good read. Every issue provides an inspiring mix of celebrity interviews, specially-commissioned cookery features, down-to-earth advice from expert columnists, and exclusive contemporary fiction. The publication originated as a newspaper. It was purchased by the Thomson brothers early in the twentieth century, and was relaunched as a magazine in 1910.

Woman & Home: founded in the UK in 1926, this magazine is published 12 times per year, in print and digital formats. Its mission is to allow women to celebrate, inspire and support each other, offering thought-provoking, informative and joyful reads. we celebrate and empower women in their 40s and older from all walks of life, with a rich collection of articles on fashion, beauty, celebrities, real life stories, inspirational women, homes, gardens, recipes, books, travel and more.

Woman's Own: British lifestyle magazine aimed at women was first published in 1932, and in its early years it placed women's rights and social problems firmly in the foreground. It includes articles on celebrity gossip, real-life stories, fashion, beauty, shopping deals, wellbeing, food, and travel.

Woman: an English weekly magazine launched in 1937. Its target audience is 30-to 40-year-old women. It encompasses a mix of celebrity gossip and TV news, real-life stories, and fashion and beauty tips. Its lifestyle section offers ideas on homes, interiors and food, product reviews, and advice.

Calamity Chicks 4.3

Meet the cast

Helen Jackson
“I try not to treat you like a little girl, but sometimes I forget how quickly you’re growing up.” A sigh. “But you’ve always had an old head on your shoulders. Just now you sounded more like a sister than a daughter.”
Helen buried her head in Mum’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. She desperately wanted to confide about the things Dad did which made her uncomfortable, but she was too afraid of the consequences. And it wasn’t just him.
Helen rarely questioned her lot in life – it was what it was. From what she could tell, her mum had to put up with a darn sight more, so she felt it her duty to support her every way she could.

Nikos

Dark, enigmatic and initially  hostile, she soon discovered hidden depths.
In halting English, he explained how the girl’s faithless boyfriend had left her for another woman, but snapped his fingers and she went running back.
She nodded. “A total rat. “I bet he’s still seeing other women.”
He nodded vigorously. “I think this, too. But Eleni has no senses about him. She is stupid.”
“Women in love rarely have any sense. Or dignity.”
“Yes. You speak right. She has no dignity about him. Like most girls. Ruled by their …” He used a Greek word which sounded like moon, but his hand gesture made the meaning clear and the curled lip showed his distaste.
She glanced out of the window, trying to hide her involuntary shiver – he was every bit as arrogant as her father.

Janet Jackson
Even though Helen repeated the words exactly as her sister had, he obviously didn’t believe her. Then Janet peeked round the door, taking great pleasure in dobbing her in. “She’s got her fingers crossed behind her back.” Her smug smirk turned into a squeal as he morphed into the daddy monster and chased her out, saying she had five minutes to hide before he came to gobble her all up.
Over breakfast, Janet point blank refused to help. “I’m not a slave, I’m only nine. Far too young.”
“Janet. I didn’t bring you up to be so rude. You apologise right now.” Mum looked mortified.
“It’s alright.” Aggie’s face wobbled. “The last thing I want is to make anyone feel like this is the Victorian age when they sent children up chimneys.”

Stella Brent
Helen watched her mum’s face desperately trying not to crumple into despair. But the anger which fuelled Mum’s every waking moment rose to the surface and she gripped Helen’s arm, the jagged edges of her bitten-to-the-quick nails digging into the soft flesh, seeking blood
Mum didn't understand why Janet called her a fat, ugly old cow, so Helen tried to explain.
“Janet’s too young to know any better. When she moaned that you never let us have any fun, he said you’re jealous of us because we’re young, slim and pretty – everything you’re not.” She gulped as mum’s face went all wobbly. “It’s not true. You’re dead slim and gorgeous– ”

Jax (Sean Jackson)

Helen stared at the scruffy man whose beard and unkempt hair gave the appearance of a tramp.
He caught on, smoothing a dark lock which refused to be flattened. “Here’s me talking, I probably look in a far worse state. I came straight from the airport, but I probably should have had a haircut and shave first.”
“The Wild Man of Borneo motif suits you.” With a wink, Aggie returned to tea-making activities.
Jax was unlike any man she’d ever met – somehow she knew instantly he was worthy of her trust. For starters, he didn’t ogle her with the dark, greedy smiles of Dad’s creepy mates, nor cower behind anxious expressions like the timid characters she saw on TV. He seemed serious and sincere, suggesting strength like Sean Connery’s James Bond.

Auntie A (Aggie)
Aggie – nobody called her Agatha, despite her stern face – had recently bought a three-storey house overlooking the sea. The view out of their bedroom showed a long structure Aggie called a pier: one of two in Brighton.
“It’s a tourist attraction with a theatre at the end where famous comedians go to perform. I’ve booked us in for a show so you’ll see for yourself.”
After the weekend exploring the busy seaside town, Aggie explained her plans for restoring the house to its former glory and opening it as a guesthouse. “There’s an awful lot of work to clear all the bedrooms, and strip off the old wallpaper, and I’d appreciate any help. Otherwise, I’d have to pay a lot of money to a decorating firm.”

Penny
Helen met more of Jax’s family, discovering she had several cousins, including Clive’s daughter Penny, a year younger than Janet. On Penny’s first day, Janet brought her to the library after eating lunch, and Helen was surprised how much the younger girl’s studious attitude influenced her sister.

Chloe
Vaguely aware of a third girl joining Janet and Penny, she was struck by the girl’s ethereal fragility – far too insubstantial and naïve to survive in the tough school. The word fairy sprang to mind, and she couldn’t help but smile when she spotted her with a skinny lad who gave off a distinctly effeminate air. Truly a well-matched pair.

Charlie Evans

“Hey, Charlie. I thought I told ya to sort that so’s we can get some peace.”
A short, thickset girl with an almost military crewcut snorted. “I did. You know I did. He must’ve fixed it.” As the alarm clanged, she swore. “Shit. He’s rigged it with an alarm. The place will be swarming with staff any second.”
As the others fled, she jumped down, staring at Helen’s head. “Bloody hell, girl. What happened to you?”
“A psycho with a pair of scissors.” Helen caught sight of herself in the mirror, the scars showing prominently against the dark stubble.
Charlie bent down to pick up the wig, in a sorry state after being trampled by several pairs of uncaring feet. “Looks like the wig bought it.” She tried to straighten the knotted strands.
The door burst open and a tall man in a beige overall loomed over them. “Gotcha.”

Justin Palmer
She couldn't decide if he were a glib, “love ’em and leave ’em” type with a well-notched bedpost, a thief, or the worst kind of troublemaker. Basically a reprobate who reeked of dodgy dealings.
“Are you buying? Otherwise clear off.” The barman’s demeanour spoke of weary irritation.
“A Coke please.” He glanced at her. “Would you like ice in that?”
She nodded, not wanting to add to the man’s woes by challenging Justin’s arrogant assumption.
“Make that two cokes, both with ice.”
His grin suggested he’d read her thoughts, but he honestly looked the type who would be drinking beer despite being underage. For once, she couldn’t quite get a reading on him, but she would have put money on there being something dodgy, albeit buried deeply.

Calamity Chicks 4.2

Who doesn't love a Greek island? Here's one of Helen's first experiences on one - not what you might expect.

   “Looks like it’s only you and me for the windsurfing.” Jax winked at Helen.
   She groaned. It looked quite technical, something she suspected Janet would have been much better at. But the idea of spending the day with her dad, doing something he enjoyed, appealed to her.
   Surprisingly, she managed quite well, once she understood it was mostly a matter of balance, and going with the flow. He suggested most people failed because they were afraid to fall in the water. “Once you realise a dunking is inevitable, you stop fighting it.”
   She wasn’t kidding when she said Janet was much better suited to sporting activities, but for some reason this one worked for her. Despite his forebodings, she didn’t fall off once. The half hour was over far too soon, but he hired a pedalo and they pedalled their way over to the other part of the beach to explore the cliff.

   When they reached the top, he asked if everything was okay with boys.
   “How do you mean, okay?”
   A scowl. “I don’t want to pry, but I definitely got a bad vibe off that Jason character.”
   “Jason?” A beat. “You mean Justin. That was ages ago – we finished at Easter.”
   He nodded. “Good. I got the impression it was all over, but you never mentioned it and, as I’ve said many times, I don’t like to pry.” His expression, however, said prying was exactly what he wanted to do. Or at least getting a feel for how the relationship had gone.
   She took pity on him. “I know you're desperate to ask but worried about what I might reveal.”
   His face scrunched up. “Really? I’m that obvious?”
   “You have no idea. I’m guessing all fathers go through this at some point with their daughters.”
   He deadpanned. “You have no idea.”
   She chuckled. “I haven’t actually gone out with that many boys, because I find the majority to be far too immature. Most of them are only interested in the one thing I’m not prepared to give.”
   His eyebrows rose. “Pleased to hear it.”
   A sigh. “And I guess my experience with men has been somewhat tainted.”
   “Of course. Stella, I mean your mother, has been reluctant to shed too much light on what happened. But there are a number of things I wish she’d known about.”

   Helen was caught completely unawares as he grabbed her from behind. “What the heck?”
   “What would you do if someone did this to you?”
   Trying to get past the shock gripping her brain, she focused on how he was holding her captive, looking for the weakest link. His obvious strength meant there was little point in struggling against the grip on her wrists. At the very least, it would result in bruising.
   “Come on. If you don’t do something he could have you half-naked by now.”
   Helen knew one of the best strategies for a woman was to aim for her assailant’s genitals, but that only worked if the guy was face to face. She had no chance of kneeing him in the testicles with her back to him. And a head-butt was out of the question, although she doubted that particular tactic was something she would ever dream of using. Particularly on her beloved dad.
   The only weapons available were her feet, and she tossed up between stamping on his foot and kicking his shin. However, she couldn’t imagine practising on her dad because of the whole hurting thing.
   “Don’t worry about hurting me. I promise, you won’t do that.”
   She went for the foot stamp, figuring it would be easier to manage and less likely to overbalance her. But somehow he knew, moving his foot away so she only stamped the ground.
   “Good attempt, and it would have worked on most attackers, as long as they weren’t army trained.”
   But she was banking on the fact he didn’t know she’d watched several films featuring self-defence techniques. She followed up the manoeuvre with an elbow-jab aimed at his midriff, figuring his attention would be diverted enough to give some slack on his grip of her wrist.
   Unfortunately, she hadn’t reckoned on him being well versed in anticipating any moves she might make. He dodged her elbow, catching her arms behind her back, and capturing both wrists with one hand.
   “Good try. What will you do now?”
   She tried flexing her wrists, but his tight grip gave no room for manoeuvre. The part of her brain which registered pain stuck up a tentative hand, muttering about the level of discomfort, but what she understood as the fight-or-flight instincts shouted it down, needing full power to focus on an escape strategy.
   “Come on, girl. Every second counts. What are your instincts telling you to do?”
   She wanted to snarl at him to shut up and let her think, but she understood he was deliberately raising the stakes so the appropriate parts of her natural defence mechanism would kick in. Without the benefit of the sort of training he obviously received during his military career, she instinctively knew the only way she could best him would be with speed and something unexpected.
   Figuring most women would merely struggle against the grip holding them captive, she quickly dismissed this as a waste of energy. The whole superior strength thing. A couple of moves sprang to mind, but she wouldn’t feel at all comfortable doing them to her dad.
   “Stop analysing, just act. Whatever comes to–”
   He didn’t get a chance to finish as she sprang back, simultaneously twisting half a turn and jerking her shoulder into whatever part of his body was closest. Using the shock of the unexpected move and the momentum of her body against him, she managed to free her wrists and shoved hard, sprinting down the path, panting for breath.

   Half-way down she stopped, surprised he hadn’t appeared. Her first thought was she’d injured him in some way, and this quickly gave way to an image of the scene. Surely he wouldn’t have overbalanced and fallen down the cliff? Unable to bear the thought he could be suffering, she ran back, but he was nowhere to be seen. Was this even the right place? She scouted around for some indication, finally spotting an unusual cluster of rocks which reminded her of a badly-formed big cat. More of a tiger than a lion.
   “Of course, if you were really being attacked, you would never return to see if you’d injured your assailant.”
   She jumped as he appeared from behind a tree. “I thought you’d fallen over the cliff or something.”
   “Sorry. Badly-timed call of nature.” A chuckle. “And I had to search for some water to wash my hands.”
   “Did I hurt you? I heard a thump, but I was doing what you said and obeying my instinct to run.”
   “Not at all. More importantly, did I hurt you? I was trying to be gentle, but the instructor was clear that if we took it easy on the girls, they’d never be able to defend themselves against a real attacker.”
   “My wrists may be sore later on, otherwise I’m okay. A little warning would have been nice.”
   “That would have defeated the object. I wanted to assess your reflexes, and I have to say, they’re way better than I could ever have hoped. Your first instinct should always be to run, and that’s what you did, the moment you could.”
   “Except I came back.” She grinned.
   “Because you don’t realise how tough your old man is. I meant it when I said you couldn’t do anything to hurt me.”
   “You think?” She described one of the tactics which had run through her mind, and he winced.
   “Ouch. I pity the guy who tries to take you on.”
   “Am I right? Would it hurt more if I dug my nails in or twisted really hard?”
   His face screwed up. “Depends what he’s wearing. You won’t be able to do much through thick denim.”
   “But if he takes them off, it only leaves thin cotton.”
   “And you can be pretty sure of his intention if he’s down to his underwear. But would you have the nerve to grab hold of a stranger’s privates?”
   “If it was that or be raped, there’s no question. Nails or twist?”
   “Both if you can.” A shudder. “I consider it my duty to arm both you girls with some rudimentary self-defence techniques. It’s just a shame I couldn’t have taught Stella before I left. Then maybe the three of you wouldn’t have suffered so much.”
   “No point crying over spilt milk. If you had, then maybe we wouldn’t have Janet.”
   “True. I love the way you always look on the bright side, no matter what.”
   “That’s all down to Mum. Despite what she thinks, she’s really strong and brave and resourceful.”
   “You don’t need to tell me that, I promise you.”

Calamity Chicks 4.1

The fourth book in the series is Helen’s Hazard – here’s a little more about it.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
Helen figures she must’ve done something really bad in a former life to end up with her family: a sneaky sister dobbing her in to their deranged dad who delights in administering his twisted punishment ritual. Her mousey mum is too busy dodging punches to notice, and probably couldn’t do anything if she did.

Her Cinderella lifestyle takes a dark turn when Dad’s slimy mate babysits. He and his creepy girlfriend have strange ideas about games suitable for pre-teens, and she’s forced to swear a blood oath not to tell Mum. Those capricious fates have a few tricks - like a fairy godmother who reveals her true dad. But is it too late to save her from the monster?

As for handsome princes - they’re decidedly thin on the ground in her small English hometown, and inevitably turn into frogs when she kisses them. She never expected her first true love to be a Greek island, but she loses her heart to their way of life. Returning to work the summer before starting college, the first Greek man she encounters reeks of pride and arrogance. And she’s had way more than her fill of that.

A moonlit kiss gives her hope — but what’s the secret her sister won’t share, and will it destroy everything?

A modern Cinderella story with a flavour of Shirly Valentine and Mamma Mia
This cheeky piece of 70s British nostalgia features a courageous Cinderella, girl-powered escapes from hairy situations, a couple of unlikely heroes and the nastiest of villains. Feel free to boo and hiss.

Calamity Chicks:
Endearing, coming-of-age romances with lashings of adventure and a hint of spicy danger. Set in 70's Britain, they provide an immersive experience of growing up in a world without mobile phones and computers, but with the best soundtrack everrr!
#1 Tina's Torment - Ugly Duckling
#2 Chloe's Chaos - Goldilocks
#3 Linda's Lament - Reluctant Rock Star
#4 Helen's Hazard - Cinderella








And the answers from this week
A. Brenda Lee – Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree 62
B. Wizzard – I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day 73
C. Greg Lake – I Believe In Father Christmas 75
D. Perry Como – It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas 1951 (Michael Bublé 2012)
E. John Lennon/Yoko Ono – Merry Christmas (War Is Over) 72
F. Slade – Merry Xmas Everybody 73
G. Jackson 5– Santa Claus is Coming to Town 70 (Bruce Springsteen 85)
H. Elton John - Step Into Christmas 73