Appearance is everything in Hollywood. Staying on top of fashion trends is critical to a girl’s survival, especially a teen girl. So, what’s in vogue this week? Depends on where you’re headed.
At the beach: Today’s teen girls are finding a variety of options available in bathing-wear. Most popular? The strapless, corseted one-piece suit made of lined cotton or stretch Lastex. While a few of the daring girls have made the switch to a two-piece suit, the one-piece is still the norm. And why not? Most modern varieties are fashionable, flirty, and fun, and that’s just what today’s teens are looking for. Many of the girls interviewed noted that a trip to the beach was as much a social event as anything. For those who enjoy a dip in the water, stylish rubber bathing caps covered in flower petals and so forth are essential, since modern girls don’t care to get their hair wet while swimming.
Everyday wear: Tiny-waisted, full-skirted day dresses are all the rage. These figure-flattering beauties will never go out of style, according to fashion experts like Christian Dior. However, many young women are opting for a strange new look, straight from the runways of Paris—the “sack silhouette” You’ve seen it around, no doubt. The dress is shaped like a giant almond with sleeves. This reporter has to wonder how a girl could feel comfortable in a dress that tapers to such a narrow hem at the knee.
Hair styles: Today’s contemporary girl wears her hair soft and curly. If she must wear it long, then it’s most often tied back in a ponytail with a fashionable scarf. For a night out on the town, no amount of work is too much for the picture-perfect female. She undertakes hours of pin curling and rolling, often enduring a sleepless night on uncomfortable rollers. However, most would agree that the end result is worth it.
So, there you have it, girls. If you want to stay on top of fashion trends, stick with me. I won’t lead you astray. You can look like a star… if you dress like one.
— Reporting for Hollywood Heartthrob magazine, “Glamour Girls” columnist, Fashionable Frances
* * * * *
Debbie looked through her closet for the hundredth time, trying to figure out what to wear. Unlike most girls her age, she didn’t have a large wardrobe. After all, she donned the Peppermints uniform five mornings a week. Sometimes six. But with the possibility of Bobby Conrad coming to town, she had to think ahead. What would she wear when they met for the first time? She needed to look just right. After all, a girl only had one chance to make a first impression, and she needed to capture his attention.
Hmm. Maybe a shopping trip was in order. Mom might be willing to take her to Coulter’s or May Company. Maybe even JC Penney’s. She could use some new skirts and blouses for church, along with some undergarments. Yes, her mother would certainly see the good in this, especially since the new clothes could be worn when news reporters and television cameramen showed up to advertise Bobby’s big event. Soon enough, all of Hollywood would converge on Sweet Sal’s, so looking good was a priority.
And speaking of the shop, it could use a little renovating. A bit of paint on the doors. A newer, larger stage, perhaps. Bobby and his band would need more room, for sure. And then there was the issue of putting their best foot forward with the community. Folks in Laguna Beach and beyond needed to see this as a grand event, one not to be missed. That meant a huge amount of promotion—and soon.
On the other hand, they couldn’t go overboard, could they? How would they ever afford it? No, they’d better stick to a simple plan. A doable plan. Several thoughts began to percolate.
She turned away from her closet, examining her appearance in the full-length mirror before heading downstairs to the shop. The Peppermints uniform might be cute to others, but she’d grown tired of it. She secretly longed to dress like the other girls her age. Not that she wanted to abandon Mom and Pop. And if supporting them meant wearing the same tiresome dress day after day, so be it.
Debbie ran a brush through her hair then pinned on the tiny white cap. She flashed a smile, realizing how much nicer she looked with a happy expression on her face. Then, with determination setting in, she skipped down the stairs to Sweet Sal’s.
As she entered the restaurant, the unmistakable sound of a Four Aces song greeted her. She could hear Becky Ann singing along to “Love Is a Many Splendored Thing” at the top of her lungs. Debbie hoped her sister’s enthusiasm wouldn’t scare the patrons away.
No, most seemed to be taking the happy-go-lucky teen in stride. In fact, quite a few sang along with her. Debbie smiled, feeling the warmth of family all around her. Oh, how she loved the people of Laguna Beach. And how she depended on them—now, more than ever.
As she reached the cash register, Debbie turned to her father. “Pop, I’ve been thinking about the fundraiser. Do you think Mr. Kenner at the print shop would be willing to donate some posters about the event?” Before he could respond, she added, “And I’ve been thinking we might want to touch up the paint on the soda shop. Give the place a fresh face. We’ve got lots of leftover paint from the last time around, right?”
“Yes, but don’t you think you’re getting the cart ahead of the horse?” he asked. “I haven’t heard back from Jim yet to confirm that Bobby’s coming for sure.”
“I know, and these have been the longest two days of my life.” Debbie plopped onto a barstool and ushered up a dramatic sigh. “Is he ever going to call?”
“Of course,” Pop said. “Patience, my dear. It’s a virtue, you know.”
“One I don’t have much of, I’m afraid,” she countered. “But I’m trying. I really am.”
“As soon as we get the news, I’ll ask Brad about the posters. I’m sure he’ll agree to do a few. He’s a good friend. We’ll need to take them around to the various businesses. And I’m sure Nathan at the paper will be happy to run an article without charging us anything. This is a newsworthy story, after all.” He paused and for a moment a flicker of something else was evident in his eyes.
“What, Pop?” Debbie asked. “Change of heart?”
“Not really. I guess I’m still struggling with the idea of folks helping our family like this.”
“Do you find it embarrassing?” She kept her voice low enough that nearby customers couldn’t hear.
“It’s not that. It’s more…humbling.”
“I see.” She thought about that for a moment. “Well, you know what the Bible says, Pop. ‘Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in due time.’”
“True.” Her father smiled. “Though, I’m not altogether sure I care to be exalted, if that makes sense. I’d rather just…just be Frankie Carmichael, who runs Sweet Sal’s. Nothing more and nothing less.”
“Well, it’s too late for that,” Debbie said. “You’re Frankie Carmichael: father, husband, friend, and all-around great guy.”
“Oh, I am, am I?” He laughed.
“Sure. Everyone loves you.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “If we took a poll, you’d be elected.”
“Elected what?” he asked. “Mayor?”
“No.” She giggled. “Nicest person in town.”
“Oh.” Her father smiled. “Well now, that would be quite an honor. But Laguna Beach is filled with good-hearted people, so I’d have a lot of competition.” He pointed to the door. “Here comes one of my chief competitors now.”
Debbie glanced over to see their mailman entering the shop.
“Hello, Clifford,” Debbie’s mom called out. “Have a seat. Rest your dogs.”
As the weary fellow eased his ample frame down onto a barstool, Debbie could read the exhaustion in his expression.
“What can I get for you?” she asked.
He didn’t bother looking at the menu. “I’ll have a couple of poached eggs on toast, no butter.”
Debbie hollered back to the kitchen. “Adam & Eve on a raft, scratch the axle grease!”
Her father took a few steps in Clifford’s direction and shook his hand. “Good to see you, my friend.”
“Good to see you, too. How are things going, Frankie?”
“Oh, pretty good, but I’ve got a bone to pick with you.” Debbie’s father took a seat on the barstool next to him, looking more troubled than before.
“What’s up?” Clifford asked.
Debbie tried not to eavesdrop but couldn’t help herself.
“I hear the post office is thinking about charging a nickel just to mail a letter,” her father said, a concerned look on his face. “Is that true?”
“A nickel?” Debbie shook her head. “At those rates, who could afford to write to friends or family?”
Clifford glanced down at his coffee cup, shame all over his face. “Nah. It’s not going up to a nickel. Just four cents.”
“Still…I just don’t know what this country’s coming to,” Debbie’s father muttered. “Our teens are listening to that crazy rock and roll music, parents are allowing their daughters to show up on the beach in those ridiculous two-piece bathing suits, gas prices are rising, and now this. We can’t even mail a letter. What next?”
“I guess that pretty much nixes the idea of mailing out postcards to local families about our big event,” Debbie said. “We’ll just have to hope everyone sees the posters.”
“Event?” Clifford looked intrigued. “What’s happening?”
“Oh, well…” She paused, not wanting to get the cart before the horse, as her father had already said. “We’re thinking about doing a concert at Sweet Sal’s. A fundraiser. I’ll tell you more about it later.”
She headed off to find her mother, who labored over a pot of chili in the kitchen.
“Mom, can we go shopping on Saturday? I need some new things.”
Her mother glanced back with a smile. “Oh? What kind of new things?”
“Well, I could use some new skirts and blouses. And shoes, too.”
“Any special reason?” her mother asked. “Now that you’ve graduated, you don’t need school clothes. Something else going on?”
She felt her cheeks turn warm. “I just want to make a good impression if Bobby comes.”
“Ah, I see.” Her mother gestured for Debbie to join her near the stove. “Looking nice is always a good idea, but just remember, honey, it’s what’s on the inside that counts. You can change the outward appearance—nothing wrong with that—but that’s not what God looks at. He sees straight to the heart.”
“You think I have heart issues?” Debbie couldn’t help but be perplexed.
“Of course not.” Mom smiled. “You have the most generous heart of anyone I know.” Her mother’s eyes filled with tears. “You’re so much like your father in that way that it makes me proud.”
“Thank you.” Debbie gave her mother a kiss on the cheek.
Mom smiled. “I suppose a little shopping trip might be in order. We’ll call it an early birthday present. We’ll have to be frugal, of course.”
“Oh, shopping!” Becky Ann entered the kitchen, squealing with delight over the idea. “When? And where?”
They dove into a lengthy conversation about fashion, and Debbie found herself almost giddy with the possibilities. By the time Bobby arrived, she would look like a million bucks. Maybe two million.
As they wrapped up their conversation, the telephone rang. Debbie answered it. “Thank you for calling Sweet Sal’s, where every day is a sweet day.”
“Jim Jangles here,” the voice on the other end of the phone rang out. “Could I speak with Frankie, please?”
Debbie’s hand trembled so hard, she almost dropped the receiver. “Pop!” she hollered. “Pop, come quick! It’s for you!”
* * * * *
Johnny made his way into the audition room with Jim’s words still ringing in his ears. “Knock ’em dead, kid.”
He wasn’t sure he wanted to do that, exactly, but leaving a strong impression was key. That’s why he’d chosen to wear one of the new outfits Jim and Theresa had purchased for him. The dark red button-up looked good with his skin tone, or so he’d been told. Felt a little out of character, though. And the newer, hipper hairstyle was interesting, though he still hardly recognized his own reflection in the mirror. Truth be told, Johnny wanted to scrap all of it and wear his jeans and green and blue plaid shirt from home.
A fellow who introduced himself as Mr. Timmons ushered him inside the audition room. “Sorry, Johnny, but we’re running short on time. You just start the song, and we’ll tell you when to stop, okay?” He glanced at his watch and took a seat.
“Sure.”
Mr. Timmons reached for a clipboard, barely looking up. “What are you singing?”
“Oh, it’s an original song. I just wrote it a few days ago.” Saturday night, to be precise. Less than two hours after leaving Debbie Carmichael. Something about that blond ponytail…those brown eyes had jarred him. In a good way. He’d gone straight back to Jim’s house and composed a ballad inspired by a true beauty, one he wouldn’t mind seeing again.
Johnny pulled his guitar out of its case and stood a comfortable distance from the man in the chair. His fingers felt at home against the strings, and as the first few chords were played, he began to relax.
As the first few words of “Dear Debbie” rang out, he closed his eyes. Doing so accomplished two things: First, it served as a nice distraction from Mr. Timmons. Second, playing on the screens of Johnny’s inner eyelids were the photos of Debbie he’d captured while writing this song. Her cute smile. Those dimples. Her tall, slender physique. That ponytail, bouncing in a carefree manner as she shared her enthusiastic stories. That red-and-white-striped uniform.
Yes, he could see it all so clearly, and what he saw still inspired him.
Johnny half-expected to be stopped after the first verse, but no one stopped him, so he kept going. The words to the letter he’d composed rang out against a simple, yet deep, melody. Johnny wished Debbie Carmichael could hear the words all the way down in Laguna Beach. Maybe one day he could sing this song to her personally. At the fundraiser, perhaps. If he worked up the courage.
After the chorus, he braved a glance at Mr. Timmons. The fellow had a broad smile on his face. That must be a good sign. Johnny dove into the second verse, the words becoming more real than ever. By the time he reached the end of the song, all jitters were gone, replaced by an uncanny sense of calm.
“You say you wrote that song?” Mr. Timmons looked for a moment like he didn’t quite believe it.
“Well, yes,” Johnny said. “But I could’ve done a better job if I’d had more time. I wrote it in less than a day.”
“You don’t say.” Mr. Timmons looked impressed. “Sounds like something the girls would love, but I think the guys will like it, too. I can almost see that soda shop girl now in her red-and-white uniform.” He grinned. “She sounds like a pretty young thing.”
“Oh, she is, sir.” Johnny did his best to hide the smile that threatened to erupt. “I mean, the girl in the song.”
“Mm-hmm.” The fellow laughed. “You know what, Hartmann? I like you. And I think the folks who watch our show will like you, too.”
“Really?”
“Sure. You’ve got that wholesome boy-next-door look about you. And that song is just the icing on the cake.”
“So, does that mean I’m going to be on the show?” Johnny’s knees almost buckled beneath him at the very idea of appearing on national television.
Mr. Timmons laughed. “I feel strongly enough about you to make the recommendation to network executives. I’ll be in touch with Jim, one way or the other. In the meantime, don’t share that song publicly, okay?”
“O–okay.” He shrugged. “How come?”
“Because, kid, when teenage girls hear you sing it on Talent Scouts, I want it to be the first time anyone hears it. Understand?”
“Sure.” Johnny nodded. “I understand. I won’t breathe a word.”
“We’re counting on it.” Mr. Timmons paused. “Listen, in case no one else has said it, you have a real gift, Hartmann.”
“Really?” Johnny’s face grew hot.
“There’s something about you that’s different, and I don’t just mean the boy-next-door thing. You’ve got a unique voice and a great demeanor. You might wear the Hollywood clothes, but I see a Midwest boy underneath. Am I right?”
“Yes.”
“Then do me a favor. When you show up to sing on the air, wear what you’d wear back home. No Hollywood hype. Promise?”
Johnny couldn’t help the grin that followed. “Sure thing. Not sure Jim will like the idea, though.”
“He will if I recommend it,” Mr. Timmons said. “We have enough L.A. guys come through. They’re a dime a dozen. With you, we’ve got something special. Something unique. People like unique. Take Elvis, for instance. Folks love him because he’s one of a kind.”
Johnny swallowed hard. Had this fellow really just compared him to Elvis?
“A lot of the big names got their start on this show,” Mr. Timmons reminded him. “Pat Boone, The Chordettes, Tony Bennett, Rosemary Clooney, Vic Damone, Connie Francis, Patsy Cline, and lots more.” He went on naming others. Quite an impressive list.
Johnny swallowed hard. Talk about a lineup.
“Funny, though,” Mr. Timmons said. “Did you know that Buddy Holly and Elvis auditioned, but weren’t chosen to appear on the broadcast?”
Johnny shook his head, not quite believing it. “Are you serious?”
“Very. Talk about regrets. We’ve never quite lived that down. So, whenever we see a young star with a lot of potential, we grab him up and put him on the air. We like to consider ourselves door openers for young singers like yourself.”
“Door openers.” Johnny nodded. “I like that.”
For whatever reason, when he spoke the word “door,” Johnny saw himself walking through the door at Sweet Sal’s Soda Shoppe in Laguna Beach. Maybe, if he made a name for himself on the Arthur Godfrey’s Talent Scouts program, a certain young woman with gorgeous brown eyes would meet him on the other side.