What makes London? What makes this barely-governable living city what it is? This city which I often hate but more often love? The people, the tube, the cabs, the pubs? The 'London-ness' of it all? The buildings? The shops?
Ah yes. Shops. Independent, quirky enclaves of individualism. Places like Baron Of Piccadilly, the demise of which I blogged about in June. Sadly, the Crown Estate had more plans. The entire block that Baron fronts is to go, chopped right back to Jermyn Street. Bates Hatters, Landaw Tobacconist, Geo Trumper's Gents Hairdresser. All to be destroyed and replaced by something of such staggering blandness it should make all good men and women weep hot tears of blood.
(photos from the ever vigilant Dusty 7s)
2 comments:
i'm still teary after a chat with one of the barons. it's proper terrible.
x
I'm just astounded that a place like Bates didn't have some sort of protection. It's criminal.
Thank you for letting me use your pics, Ally.
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