I never went there but I imagine Biba as the greatest shopping experience. A jewellery box of consumerism, dancing ballerina included. Gold, velvet, silk... affluence for the senses. I would have saved up like all the other girls to catch a glimpse of this world, my window into a dream of decadent parties, music, long haired men and magazine covers. The shop closed in the mid 70s, but the dream didnât end, and the ghost of Biba stills lingers on in Londonâs high-street.
Then came the 80s, Kensington Market was all the rage. Cool kids looking for patches, stickers, beads, customisation... Collectively, no one wanted to look the same, but to be similarly different. Kensington Market was busy, narrow corridors, many stalls with very distinct feels. There was something for everyone, Kensington Market gave youngsters their first training wheels into their individualism, guiding them to shape their own styles; but Bohemia doesnât survive into the face of property value.
Hyper Hyper was the high-end version / and neighbour of Kensington Market. It was fabulous in all sense of the term. The clothes were costumes to be worn for Londonâs coolest club scenes and corporate party romances. Accessorises into 80s makeover sequences. The selection of designers was challenging, aggressive, fresh, researched which resonated to the connaisseurs of cuts and shapes, fabrics and patterns. What happened to Kensington? Where are all the cool kids gone? Did the Hyper Hyper kids took their ADHD pills and become tamed? Â Â
I remember Neal Street East as a Christmas tree. Every room was a box waiting to be opened. Every item was a wish of my list. Every floor was a ticket to exotic travels. Neal Street East was a chaotic bazaar with a unique smell, a creature that required multiple visits to be domesticated. From china pots, palm leaves fans, bamboo beds and tables to paper dragons, Chinese lanterns, or finger cuffs, Neal Street East had both taste and savour, discovery and accessibility, it was for everything, young and old, rich and broke, it was one of a kind.Â
Le Shop in Paris became to every Parisian youngster in the 90s the place to be. A nightclub for the under-aged. Going in Iâd feel like in the cast of Kids, baggy skater trousers, tight tank tops, boys with spiky bleached hair, DJ booths, Gwen Stefaniâs shop girls. The presentation was high-end but in an atmosphere of urban nonchalance. It was streetwear wrapped in hipster graphic packaging. There was a sense of curation, of recognition for this shy street culture. It was a place to meet others, to discover, learn about oneâs self. I remember those visits as a day trips into an emerging subculture. Does anything survive gentrification?Â
