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About Phyllis Sherwood:
Phyllis Sherwood is an admirably grown-up blend of the ingredients traditional to all little girls — one third sugar, two thirds spice — and no male will deny that in her case the combination has definitely improved with age. Short (5’1″) and shapely, with strawberry-blonde hair and big brown eyes, plus a pert face and a glow of health, Phyllis pleases by being her natural, more-than-slightly mischievous self.
Not in any manner a mixed-up miss for whom everything’s coming up neuroses, she brings to day-by-day living an infectious esprit, a quality much in evidence as she talks about her life and the things in it that matter most to her — including men: “Unlike a lot of girls I know, I’m totally unimpressed by bold, brash, dynamic types — my dream man is a quiet, rather shy, attentive guy who would always humor me and my quirks. For example, I have just about every silly superstition in the book, and I hate to be laughed at when I refuse to walk under a ladder or turn away at the sight of a black cat. Also, I’m sensitive to being kidded about the big unfulfilled ambition of my life, which has always been to become an archaeologist. I first became excited about archaeology while attending Niagara Falls High School — I was wild to travel to Egypt to discover and explore ancient tombs — but my father’s death when I was 16 prevented my going on to college to study the subject. I worked for a while in Niagara Falls as a bookkeeper for a photo supplier before heading out on my own to Chicago, where I now live alone — unless you count one Siamese cat and one French poodle. I support the three of us by working as a secretary in a textile showroom. In my spare time, I’m a fierce reader — I average at least two books a week, ranging from H. Allen Smith to Margaret Mead to Frank Yerby. My other passions include charcoal-broiled steaks, Vic Damone, emeralds, and Ingmar Bergman movies, which usually leave me a complete emotional wreck. My big weakness is a quick, flaring temper, especially when I see any type of injustice — which is why my friends have nicknamed me ‘Tiger.’ As for the future, my plans include marriage, four children — three boys and one girl, in that order — and a home in suburbia with a huge lawn and a huge swimming pool. But that seems a long time from now.” For the present, Phyllis is well-content to remain a foot-loose bachelor girl who, when she slips into someone else’s pool in suburbia, is a singular subject for male admiration. For buoyant proof, consider the gatefold.