Photo from Rchappo2002
Regrets: like Frank Sinatra, I have a few, but none feel so sharp today as the time that I told my mother that she should throw away the remnants of her 1960s and ‘70s wardrobe. "This might come back into fashion and you might want it," she said, proffering a boxy floral Laura Ashley blouse. Aged nine, and devoted to sporting a pair of black leggings with a large pink bow at the waistline, I scoffed. I hardly imagined that I’d ever see people wearing clothes like my mum’s cast-offs; I never dreamed that I’d see people buying them.
Photo: Ben-Romberg
But buy them they do, at a dense cluster of vintage shops at the north end of Brick Lane in East London. Yes, Brick Lane: you probably know it as the epicentre of London’s curry culture – and it is, with dozens of restaurants serving (mostly Bengali) spicy treats. You might even associate it with the previous wave of immigration – before the influx of Asian residents, Brick Lane was the centre of London’s East European Jewish community. But now one could say that the latest wave of migrants to the street is the hundreds of young, hip Londoners who use the Lane for their vintage wardrobe needs.
Photo: Ben-Romberg
A warmish Sunday like this one is the best kind of day to go, because the road is essentially closed to traffic and fills up not just with swarms of pedestrians, but with amateur dealers of vintage fashion who set out their wares on blankets and towels along the pavement in an ad hoc market. While the quality (and sources) of their wares may sometimes be questionable, their prices are unbeatable: today I pick up a old-fashioned tulle skirt that would be at least twice at much in one of the established vintage shops.
Photo: Sebbywood
For the real gems, however, you do generally need to look beyond the piles of garb on the pavements. There’s quite a lot of debate about which of the shops is best, not to mention some substantial rivalry – especially between the smaller shop owners and the proprietors of the giant Beyond Retro, which is housed in an old warehouse on Cheshire Street, just off Brick Lane. Unlike vintage dealers in Notting Hill, who source more of their clothing from the UK and Europe, I’m informed by a fashion designer friend that much of the stock on Brick Lane is imported from the US – which explains why it can be a bit pricey, and also why I saw for sale an exact copy of one of those dresses that my mum recycled at my behest.
Photo: Daisybush
My friends in the know (the ones who work in fashion and can wear decades-old clothes without looking like scarecrows) inform me that This Shop Rocks, on Brick Lane itself, is the best of the bunch. And, indeed, any woman would need to be truly stony-hearted not to delight at the sight of the delicious collection of dresses, hats, coats and handbags. Only the fact that I don’t have a boyfriend at the moment stopped me from leaving with a charming vintage wedding dress. And now I’m kind of regretting that, too.
