Twiggy, known for her elfin face and big blue eyes, made a bold move when she chose a pixie hairstyle, creating a unique look that has been copied for decades.
Although Twiggy changed the fashion industry with her youthful style, she recently shared that she never actually wanted the androgynous buzzcut that became her signature look in the Swinging Sixties. She was just too shy to say no to a famous hairstylist at a fancy salon.
As she celebrates her 74th birthday on September 19, let’s take a trip back to the 1960s when Twiggy first introduced the baby doll styles we still love today!
In 1966, Twiggy, born Lesley Hornby in Britain, was seeking a trendy new look to kickstart her modeling career. At only 5-foot-6, she was considered too short to make it in the competitive fashion world.
Reflecting on her upcoming 74th birthday, the former supermodel recalled getting her shoulder-length hair styled for test photos at London’s House of Leonard. There, she met the famous British stylist Leonard Lewis, known professionally as Leonard of Mayfair.
Lewis was searching for models to try his new crop haircut, and Twiggy was the perfect fit.
In a recent guest appearance on Jessie Ware’s podcast, “Table Manners,” Twiggy, the former style icon, revealed that she never wanted to have her hair cut short.
“I went in to have it shampooed and set, and Leonard saw me. He said, ‘Let me try my new haircut on you,’” Twiggy told Ware during the podcast. “I’d been growing my hair, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if I wanted it cut. But I was in this very fancy salon in Mayfair and felt too shy to say no, so I just nodded.”
The next day, Twiggy went back to the salon and sat in Leonard’s chair, preparing herself for the change.
“I was there for seven hours. He cut it, then I went out, had it colored, and came back for more cutting. It was crazy,” she said with a laugh.
Although the androgynous look wasn’t what Twiggy was aiming for, she quickly understood why Leonard was a famous stylist.
After Leonard perfected Twiggy’s short blonde haircut, British photographer Barry Lategan took her pictures.
“Leonard put one of the photos up in the salon, and a journalist from the Daily Express named Deirdre McSharry saw it while getting her hair done,” Twiggy explained. “That’s how it all started. When that haircut and photo happened, it was a pivotal moment for me.”
The pixie cut made her large blue eyes stand out, and she emphasized them with mascara on her lower eyelashes.
In a chat with Vogue, Twiggy shared the inspiration behind her famous eye makeup: “I was always experimenting with makeup at home. I had a rag doll with spiky eyelashes, so I bought false eyelashes and created my own unique look.”
Twiggy, the former supermodel, shared that when she was young, she liked to rebel a bit. On weekends, she would wear makeup and miniskirts to Saturday night mod clubs with her friends, even though her school was very strict.
“I went to a grammar school where we wore uniforms, and makeup wasn’t allowed,” Twiggy said. “So on weekends, my friends and I would play with makeup like most teenage girls.” This is how her unique makeup style developed, especially her iconic eye look.
A few weeks after the photoshoot for the Daily Express, some now-famous black-and-white pictures of Twiggy appeared in the paper with the headline “Twiggy—The Face of ’66.” This launched her modeling career.
The next month, Twiggy did her first shoot for Vogue, and her life quickly became very busy. She became a major figure in mod fashion and inspired many women. While still a teenager, she even became the first celebrity to have a Mattel Barbie doll modeled after her.
Over the next few years, Twiggy became closely associated with the famous British designer Mary Quant. Mary Quant changed fashion with short skirts, giving women the freedom to show their legs.
After a few years of modeling, Twiggy retired in 1970 and started acting in movies and on stage, as well as singing.
Twiggy starred in several movies, including “The Boy Friend” in 1971, a role that won her two Golden Globes, and “Club Paradise” in 1986, where she acted alongside Robin Williams.
She also judged on “America’s Next Top Model” and created a fashion line for Marks & Spencer. She appeared in many of the brand’s billboard ads.
In 2011, Twiggy released an album called “Romantically Yours,” which features cover songs like “Blue Moon,” “They Can’t Take That Away from Me,” and “Right Here Waiting.” Her daughter, Carly Lawson, born in 1978, sang on some of the tracks.
Still active in the fashion world, the beautiful Twiggy was an ambassador for L’Oreal and works with other brands as a designer.
These days, the famous Twiggy is busy with her own podcast called “Tea with Twiggy.” Each week, she talks with her famous friends in a relaxed and personal way.
Despite all her success, Twiggy, one of the most well-known faces of her time, says her greatest achievement is her relationship with her amazing daughter.
Twiggy’s daughter, Carly, lost her father, actor Michael Witney, when she was just five years old. He passed away during Carly’s fifth birthday celebration. After that, Carly was raised by her mom, Twiggy, and Twiggy’s second husband, Leigh Lawson, whom she married in 1988.
“Family is my number one priority,” said Twiggy, who is also a grandmother. “It always has been, even when Carly was little. If something didn’t work for Carly, I didn’t do it. We went everywhere together, and that’s why we’re so close now. The other day, Carly said, ‘I can’t remember a time when you weren’t there, Mum,’ and that’s because I was always there. Even when I traveled, she came with me.”
Many women envy Twiggy for how well she pulled off that pixie cut in the 1960s! She looked gorgeous then and still looks amazing now.
What do you remember about the Swinging Sixties? What’s the most daring hairstyle you’ve ever tried?
Share your stories and let’s show Twiggy some love on her birthday!
If you enjoyed reading about how Twiggy’s style has evolved, check out how Catherine Deneuve looks today. She also had her big break in the 1960s.
My husband hired someone to teach me how to clean and cook – he wasn’t pleased with how I got back at him
I was floored when my husband, Jeff, brought in a maid to “teach” me how to cook and clean like the ideal wife. Rather than push back, I played along. What Jeff didn’t see coming was the lesson I had in store for him — one that would turn his perfect plan topsy-turvy.
I’m Leighton, 32, juggling a full-time job, a chaotic household, and a 34-year-old husband who’s lately become an expert on what a “perfect wife” should be.
Jeff and I both work demanding jobs: he’s in finance, constantly stressed about quarterly reports, while I’m in marketing, which means my brain is fried by the time I get home. You’d think we’d cut each other some slack, but lately, Jeff’s expectations have been through the roof.
It all started after that infamous dinner at his boss Tom’s place. Tom’s wife, Susan, greeted us with this warm smile, wearing a perfectly pressed dress that probably cost more than my rent in college. Her house? Spotless. Not a speck of dust, not a misplaced throw pillow.
And don’t get me started on the five-course meal she whipped up as if she’d been born holding a spatula. Jeff couldn’t stop gawking.
“You see how Susan keeps everything in order? Dinner’s ready the minute Tom gets home,” Jeff had said on the drive back, his voice dripping with admiration. “You could take a few pointers.”
I bit my tongue, staring out the window to avoid rolling my eyes but Tom wasn’t done yet. “Why don’t you try a little harder? I mean, how difficult can it be to keep things clean when you get home before me?”
The comparisons didn’t stop. Every day was a new critique. “Susan keeps her house spotless. Susan has time to make fresh pasta from scratch. Susan always looks put together.”
He’d say this while tossing his dirty clothes two feet from the laundry basket or leaving his dishes right where he finished eating.
One evening, he came home and immediately started inspecting the house like some kind of drill sergeant. He ran his finger along the windowsill and frowned. “You missed a spot. Are you even trying?”
I glanced up from my laptop, barely containing my frustration. “Seriously, Jeff?”
He shrugged. “I’m just saying, maybe you could put in a little more effort. It’s not like you don’t have time.”
That was his new favorite line. Not like you don’t have time. As if my workday and commute weren’t as draining as his. But the final straw came one Friday night.
I walked in, dreaming of a hot shower and some rest, but instead, I found a young woman in our kitchen. She was holding a mop and wearing an apron, her eyes darting nervously around like she’d accidentally wandered into the wrong house.
Jeff stood beside her, arms crossed, with a self-satisfied grin. “Leighton, meet Marianne. She’s here to teach you how to clean and cook properly.”
I blinked, trying to process what I was hearing. “I’m sorry… teach me?”
Jeff sighed like he was talking to a stubborn child. “Yeah, honey. I’ve tried being patient, but clearly, you’re not getting it. Susan suggested I get someone to help you get up to speed. So, here we are.”
Marianne glanced at me, then at Jeff, and back at me. “I usually just… you know, clean houses,” she said softly, almost apologetic. “He offered me double if I’d show you how.”
I turned to Jeff, barely keeping my voice steady. “So, you’re paying her to teach me to clean and cook?”
He nodded, still oblivious. “Yeah. This way, you can get the hang of it properly. Marianne, don’t hold back.”
I wanted to scream. This man, who never lifted a finger, had the audacity to hire someone to teach me how to clean? I could see Marianne’s discomfort too, like she was dragged into some weird reality TV show.
I forced a smile, seething inside. “I’m sure I’ve got a lot to learn, Jeff. Thanks for looking out for me.”
Jeff left, pleased with himself, while Marianne looked like she was ready to bolt. I leaned in, lowering my voice. “Listen, I don’t need lessons. But I do have a little idea that could use some help. Are you game?”
Marianne’s face lit up, intrigued. “What do you have in mind?”
I smiled, already plotting. “Let’s just say Jeff’s about to learn a lesson of his own.”
Over the next few weeks, I gave Jeff exactly what he’d been asking for: the perfect housewife. Every day, I woke up early, made his breakfast, cleaned the house until it sparkled, and cooked elaborate dinners that looked straight out of a cooking show.
I even dressed up every evening, greeting him at the door with a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.
But I was cold as ice. I didn’t nag or complain, but I also didn’t engage. No conversations about my day, no affectionate touches, not even a casual laugh. I became the picture of domestic perfection, but I was just going through the motions. It didn’t take long for Jeff to notice something was off.
“Hey, babe,” he said one evening, hovering at the kitchen door while I prepared a three-course meal. “You’ve been quiet lately. Is everything okay?”
I barely looked up, keeping my tone polite but distant. “I’m fine, Jeff. Just busy with the house, like you wanted.”
His brow furrowed. “You don’t have to be… this dedicated. I mean, it’s great, but it’s like you’re here, but you’re not.”
I shrugged, setting the table with precision. “I’m just focusing on what you asked me to do, Jeff.”
He nodded, but I could tell he was confused. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? A perfect house, perfect meals, perfect wife. But I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of my usual warmth, and it was starting to bother him.
As the days went on, I kept up my act. Every task was done flawlessly, but our relationship? It was as cold and mechanical as a well-rehearsed performance. I knew Jeff could feel the distance between us, but he didn’t know how to fix it. And I wasn’t going to make it easy for him.
Then came the day I’d been planning for weeks. After a perfectly silent dinner, I cleared the plates and turned to him with a cheerful smile. “Jeff, we need to talk.”
He glanced up, a nervous smile twitching on his lips. “What’s up?”
I sat across from him, placing a neatly folded piece of paper on the table. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this whole ‘perfect housewife’ thing. Marianne really opened my eyes to how much work it takes to run a household like this. It’s a full-time job, honestly.”
Jeff frowned, not sure where I was going. “Uh, okay?”
“So, I’ve decided,” I continued brightly. “I’m going to quit my job and focus on this full-time.”
His jaw dropped. “You’re quitting your job?”
I nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! You wanted the house to be spotless, meals cooked from scratch, and everything just right. To do that, I need to dedicate all my time to it. But here’s the catch — I can’t do it for free.”
He blinked, baffled. “Wait, what do you mean ‘can’t do it for free?’”
I slid the paper toward him. It was a contract I’d typed up, outlining my new terms.
“If I’m giving up my career, I should be compensated. Susan doesn’t work, and Tom supports her. So, I’ll need you to pay me a salary. This is what I think is fair.”
He stared at me, his face turning from confused to outraged. “You want me to pay you? Leighton, this is absurd!”
I kept my tone sweet, but my words were laced with ice. “Oh, but it makes perfect sense. You wanted me to be a perfect wife, and I’ve been delivering. But perfection isn’t free, Jeff. If you expect me to maintain the household to your standards, I deserve compensation. And if you’re not willing to pay, that’s fine. I’ll just stop doing it.”
He gaped at me, the color draining from his face. “I never asked you to quit your job! I never wanted this.”
I leaned back, arms crossed, savoring every second. “Oh, but you did, Jeff. You wanted a house that looked like Susan’s, meals like hers, and a wife who dedicated herself entirely to domestic duties. I’m just doing exactly what you asked for. But I have my standards too, and if you want this level of dedication, it comes at a price.”
There was a long, tense silence. Jeff held the contract, his eyes fixated on the exorbitant salary. I could see the gears turning as he realized he’d dug himself into a hole he couldn’t easily climb out of.
Finally, he sputtered, “This isn’t what I meant! I work hard all day. I don’t have time to do everything around here!”
I stood up, keeping my voice calm but firm. “Exactly. And now you know what it feels like. If you’re not willing to pay me, maybe it’s time you start contributing more around the house. Or you could always hire Marianne full-time. She’s great, after all.”
I left him sitting there, flustered and speechless.
From that day on, Jeff’s attitude changed. He never agreed to pay me, of course, but he also stopped complaining. And suddenly, chores were no longer just my responsibility.
Jeff started picking up after himself, doing the laundry, and even cooking dinner a few nights a week. He never brought up Susan again, and I never saw him running a finger along the shelves in search of dust.
Turns out, when you give someone exactly what they think they want, they realize pretty quickly that the fantasy isn’t nearly as sweet as the reality. Jeff learned that the hard way, and I got the one thing I’d wanted all along: respect.
In the end, Jeff didn’t need a perfect wife; he needed a partner. And if it took hiring a maid and drawing up a fake contract to get there. Well, that was a lesson worth teaching.
What do you think?
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