A Woman's Place Britain on Film

No, never underestimate the power of women.

Secretly, men always think they can do things like this better.

But are they absolutely certain?

Are they quite positive?

And what about the more classical female attributes?

That celebrated leg, for instance,

female calf, it's practically pure muscle.

All the same,

they do seem to have mastered the difficult art of walking.

And whether the show is up-to-date or down-to-earth,

there's no doubt the lady is going to get there in the end.

ALARM CLOCK GOES OFF

Time to get up.

Alarms are going off all over Britain.

It's the start of another working day for millions

and today, in Britain, nearly eight million women go out to work.

Pat Rossiter has a job that many girls dream about -

she's an air hostess.

One of well over a thousand employed on British Airlines.

But like many other girls,

she starts her working day with a bus ride.

She's got used now to the half-curious, half-envious glances

of women doing more routine jobs.

After all, there's some excuse for thinking

that an air hostess has a glamorous life.

A life of travel, excitement, and perhaps romance.

Pat Rossiter came to England from Oakland, New Zealand.

She became an air hostess three years ago.

She had six weeks intensive training to start with

and has been hard at work ever since.

She earned just over £10 a week at first

and, of course, her uniform was provided.

The day before the flight,

hostesses check the stores they'll need.

-That's three maps and the first aid, publicity, service trays, two.

-Yes.

Tea towels, dish cloths and soda siphon.

-Yes.

-Soap, soap powder.

Aerosol fresh air, cotton wool.

Serviettes, paper cups.

-Oh, paper cups are in the canister.

-Oh, thank you.

-Barley sugar, baby food, biscuits, Bovril.

-Yes.

-Sauce, tomato sauce.

-Yes.

-Salad cream.

-Yes.

-Pickled onions.

-Yes.

-Salt and pepper.

-Yes.

-And soup, assorted.

-Yes, and sick bags.

-Check sick bags.

Once the plane is on its way and the passengers comfortably settled,

the meals have to be prepared.

And serving 40 or more hot meals in 15 minutes takes some doing,

especially in such a small space.

It's just a matter of keeping cool and teamwork.

Serving drinks up and down a narrow gangway is no joke,

especially when you clash with the restless type.

Excuse me, please.

The washing up is done mainly by the catering staff at the airport,

but on a busy flight, it's just another job for the hostess.

Another flight over, and the hostess is the last to leave the plane.

To her, one airport looks very much like another.

And Pat doesn't find this one exciting.

No sign of those romantic sheikhs that some girls dream about.

But away from the airport, time off in Benghazi can be fun.

There's some other girls who annually join the Women's Services,

in this case, the Women's Royal Air Force,

girls who are trained

for men's jobs on RAF stations at home and abroad.

Any sort of job, except flying or navigating a plane.

More than a quarter of a million WRAFs

served with the RAF during the Second World War.

Today, with the Duchess of Gloucester as their Air Chief Commandant,

they're a force of over 6,000 doing 80 specialised jobs.

They report for initial training near Grantham, Lincolnshire.

They take an oath of allegiance to the Queen, and are sworn in the RAF.

Being ladies, they're given three weeks to change their minds

and go home if they want to.

But after that, they have only two honourable ways of leaving the service -

by buying themselves out or by getting married.

Every year, incidentally, some 800 WRAFs get married.

In uniform now, the new recruits go through a basic six-week course.

RAF history and lecture rooms.

The main reason for this basic training

is to make them want to be a part of and enjoy a community life.

But personal likes and dislikes,

such as favourite hairdos, are not forgotten.

To every 18 WRAFs in the service, there is one WRAF officer.

As WRAF cadets, with white flashes on tunic lapels and hats,

they take a three to six months course.

Apart from specialised training, much of the course is concerned

with human relations and living conditions,

for a WRAF officer is expected

to add the homely touch to service life.

For ceremonial evenings, flowers can be important.

In contrast, the course

also includes mountain expeditions with the RAF,

where the going can be rough

and nights are spent under canvas on the hillside.

These girls may become secretarial officers,

join the education or equipment branches,

specialise in catering or technical subjects.

Bur first, they'll be officers of the WRAF,

holding the Queen's commission and responsible for the air women on their station.

Yes, this is certainly a girl's life.

And it all goes to show that, in the world of today,

there are few jobs in which women can't compete with the men.

'Girl, aged 16, five feet seven inches, reported missing from home.

'MT over.'

Message received. Alpha four out.

Relatively few policewomen are members of the CID.

There are only about 60 in the whole London area

and small groups in other forces.

They train with the men,

doing a ten-week course in every aspect of crime detection

at a detective training school.

Here, trainees are having an observation test.

Later, they might be questioned as well

on the appearance of the inspector training them.

Once she's trained, a policewoman in the CID can take on

any detective job which is reckoned within her ability.

But no woman has yet headed a murder hunt.

It's routine for a woman to investigate the burglary of a private house.

Whatever job she's doing, and whatever rank she holds,

a policewoman gets only 90% of the equivalent pay of a policeman.

The reason given is that she works a 7.5-hour day against his eight,

but this, say the women police, is true only of patrol work.

A woman detective, for instance, may often work long hours on a case.

Dusting for fingerprints is routine on a case like this.

A scrap of wool may have come from the burglar's coat.

Off duty, policewomen and policemen

spend time together on occasions such as this.

At the Glamorgan Police social club,

a policewoman shows off her new summer uniform,

in which Glamorgan leads some of the other police forces.

The girl a policeman dances with one night

may be working with him the next.

In London, policewomen do a good deal of night patrol work

in the club areas, such as Soho.

One of their main jobs is to prevent young girls getting into trouble.

If there's a suspicion that teenagers are roaming around without their parents' knowledge

or frequenting places where purple hearts or reefers can be bought,

a policewoman calls for a police van.

The girls and their escorts are rounded up from a cafe

and are taken off to the police station.

Then, the police get in touch with their parents

and ask them to come and take them home.

In country areas, or the outskirts of a city,

patrols are often done in cars or small vans or on scooters.

Policewomen keep a special lookout for small children

who may be wandering or lost.

Women police do regular street patrols, just like the men.

And the policewoman must always be ready

to do anything in an emergency.

Anything, in fact, that a policeman would do.

She doesn't normally direct traffic in a town

if a policeman is available.

But if he shouldn't be, and she can see a traffic jam building up, she takes over.

Which all goes to show that the arm of the law

doesn't have to be masculine to be effective.

Venus never had it so good.

If the ancient sculptor who created her

could have seen what goes on today,

he'd have cast her in solid gold.

Beauty contests are big business in Britain.

The female figure is the draw in an industry estimated today

to be worth about £5 million a year.

No matter how you look at it,

the suffragettes never knew what they were starting

when they demanded votes for women.

Votes can mean thousands of pounds to the queens of the beauty game.

For Britain's seaside resorts, beauty is more than skin-deep.

It brings the crowds, or helps to.

It's part of the holiday,

but not for the girls.

For them, it's an earnest game, where the stakes are real,

where vital statistics can change into bank accounts,

trips around the world, modelling contracts and jet flights.

Where, with a bit of luck and the right curves,

a girl can get in the 2,000 to 3,000-a-year class

without the attentions of tax inspectors.

Winnings aren't earnings,

even if many a taxman would get a kick out of checking the figures.

It's a competitive world, a clothes-off world,

in which a girl's best friend is a tape measure.

Out of all this might come the chance of a model's job

showing off the latest fashions.

But, for now, clothes are out, all that counts is real girl.

Padding in swimsuits is against the rules,

but this contestant needs no artificial aids anyway.

Make-up is important and hairdos and cosmetics

are among the main items in every beauty queen's accounts.

Here, complexion might mean just the difference between winning

and lining up as just another also-ran.

For this is a game in which everyone, more or less,

is built on the right lines,

in which every rival has what it takes.

Their battle is on, the battle to please.

For a few brief hours, they are in the spotlight -

secretaries, typists, hairdressers,

schoolteachers even, from all parts of Britain.

Here, nature reaps its own rewards.

It's all a matter of simple arithmetic

and Maureen Gay has come from Bristol

with some figures that add up nicely - 37, 24, 36.

The curves count, but so does personality and deportment.

Whatever you call it,

it doesn't need spelling out for the amateur judges in the audience.

But the judges whose votes count have different ideas

about what makes a beauty queen.

Women judges go more for the sweet and quiet girls.

Men give more marks for sex appeal.

And now, it's Patricia Bush from Chingford - 36, 24, 36.

But this is Patricia as her neighbours know her.

And that walk of hers took the eye of a models agent,

so she can now expect offers of work in the fashion world.

In the beauty queen game, many a Miss is a Mrs.

She's already an illustrator of children's books,

so with husband and baby as well, Patricia looks like being kept busy.

The beauty game's a world away.

But now, we're back, in the world of wiggles and gleaming smiles.

Some will have come a long way just to lose,

some travel a thousand miles a month from one contest to another,

from heats to finals, and sometimes, to a new career.

Now, who's won this time?

It's number 14, Margaret Boardman.

Another queen enthroned for another year.

Another queen in a world of queens,

Miss Thames, Miss England, Miss Scotland,

Miss United Kingdom, Miss World, Miss Universe, to name just a few.

In America, they've even got a Miss Seafood Princess.

For Margaret, another title

and back to the workaday life of Lancashire.

Already, as a result of an earlier contest, she's a professional model,

working in Manchester, but living in Molesey.

At first, her modelling job was part-time. Now, full-time.

A job that looks easy but takes a lot of doing,

that requires stamina and discipline as well as glamour.

Training, as well as the right figure.

Thousands of girls earn their living as fashion models,

and thousands more would like to.

And every girl who goes in for it wants to be a top model.

More often, they end up like this,

working in a good wholesale dress house.

And only about 20% of their time is spent modelling.

So they switch to several other jobs in the fashion house as well,

such as sewing on labels...

..keeping fashion records...

..helping to cut out, and even delivering garments.

But a few reach the world of the top fashion designers

and then, they model all the time.

Like Jennifer Yates, who works in London's Savile Row for Hardy Amies.

Hurry up, Jennifer, you're going to be late, here's the boss.

Models don't just sit around and look beautiful.

Top photographic model Marla Scarafia fits in movement lessons

with a leading Swedish theatrical teacher.

They help her, she says, both in her modelling work

and as an actress, when she becomes Marla Landi.

Every freelance model's life is governed by the telephone.

More often than not, it's her agent

letting her know about an unexpected appointment.

It may be a modelling session

at the studio of a famous fashion photographer.

Whether you're a mannequin wearing garments at a fashion show or a model being photographed in them,

you've got to be a quick change expert.

Marla has got it down to seconds.

So now you know how those glamorous fashion pictures are made.

Jen's in a hurry too.

Her next appointment is in less than half an hour.

So lunch is a sandwich in a taxi.

And whether she's modelling a diaphanous nylon ball gown

in a warm and cosy studio

or posing outdoors in a swimsuit with an east wind blowing,

a model must always look as though she's enjoying it.

Every girl who wants to become a model

dreams of being like Barbara Goalen, the greatest of them all.

Barbara Goalen, like this girl,

started by going to see this model agent in Chelsea.

This girl is being told that,

even if she doesn't make a photographic model,

training should turn her into a mannequin.

So off she'll go to school.

The head of this one is a well-known mannequin herself.

Here, the model-to-be will learn grooming

and how to present and sell clothes.

The peak of every mannequin's career is to model clothes before members of the Royal Family,

as here, at Rudding Park, near Harrogate,

beautiful home of the Radcliffe family,

in the presence of the Duchess of Gloucester and 1,100 other people.

Top mannequins earn, on the average,

40 to 50 guineas a week in the season,

and there are about 200 top girls today.

On the photographic side,

top models earn at least that every week.

But they're an exclusive company, perhaps about 30-odd.

That's a pretty far cry, girls,

from the hundreds who work in wholesale fashion houses

and sometimes don't earn as much as a typist.

But if a model can look like this in a wedding dress,

do you wonder that so many of them make such very good marriages?

Though the season doesn't officially exist,

debs like Wendy Don, daughter of a former American diplomat in Britain,

and Anna Collins, whose father made a post-war business fortune,

go through a ten-month stint

which will cost 400 parents anything up to half a million pounds.

Only a handful nowadays have titles, like Lady Mary Gaye Curzon,

daughter of Earl and Countess Howe

and granddaughter of the famous racing motorist.

Most debs are within a few months of 18,

about half have been to school together.

Parents of about a third are friends themselves.

Most debs go to Royal Ascot,

for the way a girl is known to be coming out

is simply to be seen around...

in the right places, of course.

You couldn't do the season for much under £500.

Parents splashing it about a bit could put £5,000

into the national kitty.

Apart from that small cash question, any girl can be a deb,

given the right sort of friends to go along with.

Like Ascot's royal enclosure,

the deb world is no longer hard to enter.

When the presentation parties at the palace ended,

so did the need for a sponsor who'd been presented in her time herself.

It's still necessary, though, to have someone around

who knows the form and can train the girls.

The pace of the season needs stamina.

There are 200 slap-up dances in the season.

Usually four on summer Saturday nights

and as many smaller hops and chattering cocktail parties.

4th June at Eton,

when the school turns itself into a summer garden party,

is another checkpoint in the deb's long rally.

Like racing at Ascot, the cricket here is only wallpaper.

Meeting people - school friends, new faces, possible partners,

is the main thing.

And strawberries and cream and gossip.

Without friends to start off with, you couldn't deb at all.

Not all debs have relations at Eton, but their friends probably have.

In this way, acquaintances snowball,

invitations start to roll in and dances become possible.

The web will go on spreading all through the season.

The early planning started at those innumerable February tea parties,

when the girls, urged on by zestful mums,

got out their diaries and started filling in dates for dances,

parties and weekends.

And started to swap lists, both of eligible young men

and of the bad lads, dangerous in taxis.

Most deb men are between 19 and 25,

usually ex-public school and working in business or the City.

There are fewer blimpish young officers around nowadays

and boyfriends' backgrounds are at last gradually widening

to admit eccentric youths who write, paint, photograph or even pop sing.

But the good hostess always tries for 25% more men than girls

to minimise the wallflowers,

those unhappy debs for whom the season has floundered.

Like the party, the season is finally over too.

Generally overglamorised,

it's a circus of mutual expensive entertainment

within a very limited set.

Often, newly rich parents are the real promoters,

pushing debs forward into the set they think is smart.

Sheer snobbery, of course.

For the pretty girls

and the eligible bachelors, it's one long giggle.

In the words of one deb, "It's a bit of fun, love,

"between school and the old nine till five

"and the looming kitchen sink."

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd