Tag Archives: shop

Nov19

A Family at Wartime

Posted on November 19, 2012 by the magnificent something

I don’t like war movies. The closest I have been to watching a full movie about wartime is the Sound of Music, and even in that, I hated the part where Rolfe turned out to be a Nazi, trampled over Liesl’s heart, and almost robbed the Von Trap family of their freedom.

You see, I dread the thought of a war, and not in the war is bad-peace is good-let’s all sit in front of a campfire holding hands and sing cumbaya kind of way. I find it dreadful because I think that it is the perfect setting for the worst kind of human nature to break free. Yes, the tactical moves, and fights, and war casualties are awful enough, but what makes my skin crawl are accounts of ‘normal’ people doing despicable acts during these times.
From medical trials on prisoners to making furniture out of human skin, and from countless tales of betrayal to the dehumanising nature of power, wartime comes to show you that the worst kind of crimes can be committed outside of the battlefield.
This is why I found the Imperial War Museum’s ‘a Family at Wartime’ so heartwarming. The exhibition, fantastically curated in the far left corner of the ground floor, is a metaphor for all the good that shines through the human evil. Each family member stands for different ways that people in Britain (and I assume throughout the world) made the best out of the worst, made life liveable and saw the everyday as another day that their heart kept beating.

The exhibition is centred on the Allpress family who lived in Stockwell, where every member played a minuscule, yet important role in the war, having to cope with rationing, evacuation, war work and events such as the London Blitz and VE Day that shaped everyday life and the story of a nation.

The exhibition features a model house of the Allpress family home, a family tree diagram, photos and interviews, as well as recreations of the era billboards, settings, iconic propaganda posters and films.

Visitors can also get in a replica of an Anderson shelter, scan the airwaves for radio shows from the archives, and see a range of interactive exhibits that we’re really popular with the little ones (yes, and me…).

However, the show stopper has to be the corridor that leads to the exit. On your left, a map of the area with marks on the bombing sites, explains the different levels of destruction that these metal cones of death caused. On the right wall, you will find paintings from the wartime, that literally paint a picture of overcoming terror by unity.

A few steps down and I am in the specially constructed gift shop, and I want to buy everything. The whole space is reminiscent of a home from that time, with vintage games, cushions, and cookbooks from the war.

I leave the museum with a bag of sweets. As I sit on the park bench outside, I open the bag, munch down a couple of jellies, and gaze at the giant cannons in the middle of the courtyard. I wonder if we learned. I wonder if we ever will.

Love,

Nov9

Girl in Front of a Boy

Posted on November 9, 2012 by the magnificent something

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The woman next to me stops on her tracks. She looks through her watery eyes, stares at the shop assistant behind the counter, and starts:
‘I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her‘ she says with an audible pain in her voice. The shop assistant smiles politely, and then grabs a pile of books and makes her way to the back of the store. She looks used to this expression of unrequited love. The woman next to me giggles, and turns to her friend to see if she got the whole thing on her phone; a thumbs up and a loud giggle later, and a man with a yellow sweater has taken her place, reciting the same monologue with the same pained expression.
You see, I am inside the Notting Hill bookshop, standing very near to the spot that Julia Roberts made her final plea to Hugh Grant. As I see a sea of tourists taking pictures, I approach the sales assistant, who seems unfazed from the commotion.
We start talking about the movie, and she tells me that the shop is not the actual place where the movie was shot. I think she must have registered the surprise in my eyes, so she adds that it is indeed the inspiration for the bookshop in the movie.
Apparently, the set designer drew the set of the travel bookshop based on this one. She also tells me at the actual location was the Kurt Geiger shop two corners down the street, even though it is unrecognisable now.
I thank her, and I keep browsing; the bookshop has a really good selection, and a charm that explains why it was the inception behind some of the most central points of the movie.
So, I pass the young girl that is now reciting the monologue in Spanish, and make my way to the Kurt Geiger shop. It is indeed unrecognisable. But just a breath away is the infamous Portobello Market, so I make my way down the stalls and take in all the views that can be seen on the first scene of the movie.
Spending the day as a tourist in your own city; spending the night seeing the Hollywood version of the places you just were. Popcorn, duvet, couch, and a finger pointing at the screen: I was there today!

Love,

Oct15

Pink Origami Spaceship Travels: Space Day at Drink Shop Do

Posted on October 15, 2012 by the magnificent something

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A pink spaceship is traveling across the room, astronauts are hanging on a string, and a fleet of rocket rests between a sign that reads ‘Up to the Highest Heights‘ and an arrow that points to the toilets, downstairs on the left.
No, I am not in a David Lynch movie. I am in Drink Shop Do, one of the few cafes in London that will make your whole body gooey, your wallet empty, and your belly full of yumminess.
You see, last week I was writing about Jiggling Atoms and life in the molecular level, so I thought it would be a good idea to see the other side of the spectrum; from the minuscule nature of the atom, to the enormity of space.

Drink Shop Do was the perfect setting for that. This multicoloured universe hosted a space day organised by Science London, catering to the varied clientelle that popped in: you could indulge your inner nerd by participating in a rocket building workshop with Dr Simon Foster from Imperial College, or catching up with some of the brightest minds in the field in a session with Kate Gray, Louisa Preston, Marek Kukula and Alex Salam.
Alternatively, if you are more in the crafts category, you would be sitting in the cafe, building origami spaceships, googling interesting space facts on your iPhone and writing them on the back of an astronaut you just drew for the space facts competition.
With a range of space-inspired songs in the playlist (that included Aerosmith’s ‘I don’t want to miss a thing‘), I took comfort in the delicious cake and coffee that were on the table, took pictures, wandered around the store, and learned that space is not just a place where no one can hear you scream (sorry, this reference had to be made).
Unfortunately I had to leave in a rush, but after making a (long) list of the things I want to buy from the shop on the ground floor, I knew that I would be here again soon.

One to beam down, Scotty.

Love,

Sep23

Spice of Life

Posted on September 23, 2012 by the magnificent something

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My grandmother lost her sense of smell the day she was hit by a taxi in the middle of a crowded Athens street. The man drove her home, left her on her couch, and closed the door behind him, taking a part of her with him. We thought that is was a temporary loss, something that would come back with time; but time only brought days and deepened wrinkles, keeping what the man took to itself.

This was always a huge source of sadness for my grandmother. Smell was her favourite sense. After that, she always said that food did not taste the same, rooms did not carry the same memories, hugs did not feel the same. A part of life was lost the moment the car touched her body.

As I am sitting here, my eyes closed, taking in all the smells from the shop, all I can see is her face. The blend of smells is flooding me with memories, one stronger than the next, and for a moment I feel like I am back in her embrace, a feeling I have not experienced since she died 4 years ago.

I open my eyes and I look around me. I am in the middle of a sea of colours, of a sea of smells. It is not the smells that remind me of her, it is my overwhelming use of the sense that does. The absolute joy that can come with a nice smell, the gut-wrench that comes with a bad one, the act of smelling milk before drinking eat, deep inhales over a rose tea, quick sniffs with squinting eyes when walking inside the house and smelling warm food.

It is amazing how the spice shop in Notting Hill wakes up these memories inside me without the sadness that could be attached to them. It is almost a celebration of these events, instead of pure reminiscing. The shop is a mini portal into the world of senses, with hundreds of different spices, products and recipes. If variety is the spice of life, then the spice shop personifies that.

Minutes later, I go out on the rain, with some Greek Giros spice, and two chilli chocolates (original and orange). The rain soaks up my paper bag as I wait for the bus, but I still feel a warmth inside me. The warmth intensifies with the first bite of the chilli chocolate, with the most unusual taste explosion I’ve ever experienced (definitely one of my favourite chocolates so far).

I smile; my grandmother would have liked this I think, and I take a deep breath in, welcoming the smell of rain, damp soil, damp clothes, people, tears, loss, and everything in between.

Love,

Sep16

The Magnificent Something for Time Out London

Posted on September 16, 2012 by the magnificent something

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I had to make a list; then shorten it; then add to it; then shorten it again; sigh, huff, puff, frown, add a few more and look at it again. This is going to be impossible.

When Time Out London asked me to do a piece with my Top 5 Secret Spots in London, I felt a strange mixture of panic and happiness. I was at work, so I could not fully express either, so I just combined both: my feet did a happy dance under my desk while my chest was trying to control an incoming hyperventilation.

Pen, paper, and a few pages afterwards I was back at square one. What is a spot? What is secret in London? I opened every London app, website, map, newsletter and contact list I had. Secret spots; spots that are secret; spots with secrets inside. I started making lists of places that even though they were new, and relatively unknown, they did not really represent me. I don’t want to make a list just to list places; I want to make a list of places that are important to me. A spot that is secret; a spot with a secret inside.

And then it hit me. My secret spots are not going to be secret because they are not known; they were going to be secret because they contain a secret. They will be personal. They will be my secrets. I took a gulp from my (now cold) latte, bit the lid off the pen, and started writing the list again.

I chose the Cuming Museum because I really think that it is a collection of magnificent somethings; of objects that regardless of monetary worth, we’re valuable to the Cuming family. They meant something to them, so they mean something to me.

Hobbs is the only place that I can say I fully trust with my volatile reactions when it comes to haircuts (plus, the pulled pork sandwich really helps).

Homemade brought back memories of breakfast before work, good coffee, and bacon with Maple syrup pancakes. It had to be in.

The ‘There are no Prostitutes’ sign was not in my initial list. However, when I was trying to find another spot (I think people do not realise the extent of my lack of orientation), I bumped into it, and remembered how much it made me laugh when I first saw it; it was my first year in London, and for some strange reason, it added a little bit of magic in my view of this wonderfully weird city.

And finally Gay’s the Word is so close to my heart, and I genuinely believe that it keeps inside the best kept secret in London: Jim Macsweeney and Uli Lenart have to be discovered from anyone that enjoys an intelligent discussion, a good book and a hearty laugh.

You can read the full post here. Below you can find some more pictures from the spots that could not fit in the Time Out blog, but thought I would show you anyway.

I did not want to just make a list of secret spots; I wanted to share places, people and things that need to be discovered.

I really hope that you enjoy it.

Love,

May18

The Contents of an Artist’s mind: Hans-Peter Feldman at the Serpentine

Posted on May 18, 2012 by the magnificent something

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I am the exact opposite of a GPS. I have no sense of direction, whatsoever. If you put me in front of the London Eye, with a gigantic neon arrow pointing at it, and ask me to lead you there, we will end up having tea and scones in Manchester. If we were in a scary movie, I would be the one that looks at the map for a couple of seconds, and then point to the dark, menacing looking road, saying ‘this is the way’, much to the dismay of the rest of the group.
So,all this might explain why I am finding myself in the middle of green fields, with dirt on my new shoes, a broken umbrella and a soaked coat. I am looking at the battery falling down to 2% on my iPhone, and the Google Maps holding onto the screen for dear life as they tell me to go left; and then the program closes; the iPhone shuts down. I look around. I am screwed.
Granted, I am only in the middle of Hyde Park, so I can find my way out easy enough (I think). But I don’t want to. I came here on a mission, and I will achieve it. So, relying on the signage and the kindness of strangers, I was directed towards my destination. 20 minutes later, I was entering the Serpentine Gallery with a dramatic sigh, dripping, eyes wide open.

Famous for its eclectic exhibitions and clever use of space, the Serpentine Gallery is like a small oasis in the middle of Hyde Park. It has a truly rich array of events, a great architecture and education schedule, and a bookshop that is responsible for a sharp decrease in my bank account.

I kept repeating to myself ‘eyes on the prize’, so upon entering, I made my way straight through to the exhibition. Inside, you can not help but feel that you are in a Charlie Kauffman movie; you are stuck inside the mind of an artist, exploring his memories in the corridors, his feelings in the well lit room, his fears in the dark ones. The exhibition, a selection of Hans-Peter Feldmann’s body of work, takes over the main gallery space, and is hosting some of his most famous pieces next to brand new work.

Satirical, often humorous, poignantly dreamy and always humane, his work is an observational masterpiece. He maintains the child-like fascination of presenting the everyday as unique, and the trivial as extraordinary. Feldmann strives to see the world in different ways, from different angles and different eyes; from the picture of a woman waving goodbye, attached to a mechanical device that simulates the movement, to a giant poster of bookcases filled with books that will never be read. His work includes flower pots propped on the wall, two plastic sculptures of fluorescent Greek figures and chiaroscuro portraits of dignified cross-eyed sitters and Victorian ladies with clown noses.

You can find raw beauty in between the humorous exhibits. In Sparrow Play, a little girl is touching the cut out silhouette of someone that was there but is no more, something only she could see at that moment in time, invisible to us, no other trace but the shadow that was left on the black and white pavement. You can find social comments, from the use of photography as a commercial avenue, to the commercialised needs that shape our daily lives. He seems to be testing the boundaries of art, graphic design, concept and creation with every single work he exhibits.

I also loved the way Feldmann seemed to be cataloguing and compartmentalising events, like All the Clothes of a Woman, where he has taken portraits of the clothing found in a woman’s wardrobe; the same with the Contents of a Woman’s Bag. His observational work includes a cluster of pictures of car radios playing good music, a photographic catalogue of a pound of strawberries, and a group of pictures of lips. These collections of moments have a rather subtle but profound effect, creating the illusion of a familiar viewing, when you have never seen or experienced what is depicted.

There is however a show stopping moment; entering the dark world of Shadow Play, the first thing you see is a long table, with a collection of strange everyday items arranged on the table. However, it is not the items themselves that are strange; it is the way they are placed, how they are out of place, out of context, creating a new context, creating a different reality. The objects are moving, aided by a number of electrical devices, and lit by lamps that are housed in metal tins. And then your eye follows the light through the objects to the wall. And you can not help but gasp. On the wall, a new scene is created, a choreography of shadows shows a world that is not there, but is there nonetheless. It is beautiful. You sit down, and you stare at it, and you feel that you are witnessing a moment of pure beauty, a moment that reminds you how simple things, light and shadow, can mix and make magic.
On the way out, I visit the shop, and buy the exhibition catalogue. With a lighter heart and bank account, I step out, in the rain, and look to my left; then to my right. I am not sure which way I am supposed to go; but you know what? I feel like exploring.

Love,

Dec10

Walk in the middle of Oxford Street and Regent Street: Shop West End VIP Weekend

Posted on December 10, 2011 by the magnificent something

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Imagine a traffic-free Oxford Circus. On a Saturday. With a herd of Santas running down the street, screams of delight flying off the huge Chair-o-Plane in the middle of Regent Street, and all sorts of treats and games scattered around.

You are probably thinking that I am pulling your leg. This can not happen, surely, not that close to Christmas! Well, prepare to be amazed, as the Shop West-End VIP Weekend event is in full mode! Two major streets closed, thousands of stores open, and countless of Christmas lists to tick off!

Yes, it is moderately manic, but it is also a lot of fun! If you have time today or tomorrow, pop down (tube is working), and walk freely up and down the streets!

If however you can not be here, here are some pictures to get you in the festive mode!

Love,

Oct22

The Museum of Everything in Selfridges: art as you’ve never shopped it.

Posted on October 22, 2011 by the magnificent something

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Everything. Everything you never expected to see, everyone you never expected to meet, all framed, curated in the most magnificent way.

Welcome to the Museum of Everything, a UK registered charity that celebrates the unintentional, thinks outside the box, and draws outside the line.

Housed in Selfridges, one of the world’s largest, oldest and most respected shopping destinations, Exhibition #4 and 400 pieces of art wait for you to see them.

The entrance acts as a portal: from the lovely busy bees of Selfridges to the laid back Everythingers, volunteers that radiate the love for the art that surrounds them.

It is impossible not to get goosebumps when you enter the Wonder Room. The exhibition starts with Manfred Henke‘s exceptional reproduction of music on maps; then, Tom Wagener‘s pop art stands next to Roy Collison‘s strong commentary about regression to the past, especially to life as a boy.

William Scott invites the spectator to travel through his journey of black culture depiction, in a parallel manner to Peter Hughes‘s figures full of raw emotions in primary colours.

Artists like Giovanni Gallipoli and Kunizo Matsutomo create two very different but equally compelling universes, where obsession with stars and words takes over and creates nothing and everything.

Even though I will not mention everyone, I was especially touched by Michael Gerdsman‘s crochet work, where the visually impaired artist explores the communication paths in a rather powerful form.

The museum takes over the always immaculate Selfridges windows as well, with Stefan Hafner‘s ‘The City of the Future’ standing out as a magnet to the thousands of people that capture it on their phones, cameras, or wide open eyes.

The exhibition lasts until the 25th of this month, so put your running shoes on and follow the red arrows (and while you are at it, why not try their ridiculously cheap coffee in the Cafe of Everything, while purchasing bespoke items in the Shop of Everything??! If you can not however, the masterminds behind the museum have created a digital experience (click here) for you.

Either way, check their amazing website, www.musevery.com for more information on a really inspirational and remarkable museum.

It is guaranteed to make your day a bit more magnificent.

Check out some ‘terrible and brilliant’ pics from the exhibition just bellow: