#MYLDN – Page 68 – Babycakes Romero

17/07/201517/07/2015

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Me and my camera in my home town, my capital city, my london

…and so concludes this week’s photographs from the Serpentine Pavillion Summer Party. In many ways it really feels like the ultimate representation of New London as it is most definitely only available to an exclusive few . It has dawned on me that to live in this city now you have to be a REFL – Rich Enough For London. The problem is that most people aren’t. (yes I am trying to make REFL as well as New London happen- fly my pretties,fly!)

Just to give you an idea of the impossibility of home ownership in London, the average flat is worth £500,000. The average salary is £26,000 and you can get a mortgage 4 x your salary. As the saying goes, do the math, most aren’t even getting close. The top 1/% and the bottom 1% are present but everyone else has been forced out by prices that have gone into infinity and beyond and don’t look like they are coming down either.

I was reading an article this week about how the population of London has changed. In the ’80s two thirds were classed as middle income, now its little more than a third. The numbers of rich & poor have risen by 80%. The Spirit level (u can watch my 3min redux version here) showed comprehensively that inequality is the source of most of society’s ills but this shift is being allowed to occur unabated. The only barrier of defence we have that could stop this are the councils and the mayor. The councils who should be protecting us from the property developers are in fact in league with them and are using their money to fill the massive gap in their budgets that has come from Tory cuts. Deliberate actions from a government who are systematically waging war on the poor? Seems pretty convenient. And what of our illustrious Mayor, the loveable Boris Johnson. What did he have to say on the matter? “London is to the billionaire as the jungles of Sumatra are to the Orangutans. It is their natural habitat” What an absolute cunt.

Ok, its official, I have become a gentrification bore. I can’t stop talking about it and I can’t stop getting angry about it. I want my London back!! I liked the inclusive London, the melting pot, where anyone who was willing to have a go could survive and live within the city and not have to commute from fucking Margate to be able to afford the rent. If you have to travel in to work or to socialise you are not a Londoner, you are just passing through. This is not about having issue with rich people. This is about having issue with the fact that they are the only ones who can enjoy New London. The glory of this city was that is was available to all and now it is just a playground for the wealthy and that sucks. The mix worked. That’s what made it great.

I’m gonna shut up now and go and sulk in the corner. There’s no more to be said. It’s done. There is no way to turn back the clock. Time to move on. I will try not to bring this up again but I can’t promise. If it gets boring just look at the pictures. I will let them do the talking from now on.

P.s I didn’t mention the pavilion this year because it was basically shite and I don’t like to speak ill of things…(smiley face)

16/07/2015

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Me and my camera in my home town, my capital city, my london

From scuzzy portaloos to slinky jimmy choos…the two social events I topped and tailed could not be more at polar extremes to each other..or could they? Despite the guests of The Summer Party at the Serpentine Pavillion starting the evening with great decorum, elegance and poise, once they got shitfaced on a truck load of expensive plonk their similarity to the Glasto crowd increased ten fold. Once they had been sufficiently lubricated they were dancing their designer socks off. The dancefloor got filled and things got a little messy. It was reassuring and very heartening to know that underneath all the glitz & glamour they just wanted to get wasted and party like anyone else. And they really rocked out. Throwing shapes, shaking their booty, hands in the air like they just didn’t care. It seems the desire to dance under various levels of intoxication apparently traverses all social stratas.

2manydjs who I had seen only days previously banging out tunes to the frenzied crowd from the inside of a giant metallic spider that spat out fire at Arcadia in Glasto (see last weeks pics) were now doing pretty much the same, just to a slightly different demographic. Would these people ever be up to their knees in mud off their chops in a k hole? It seemed unlikely. So were these tippled toffs better or worse than the mashed up munters I had just been with? No. Just different. Strip away the exterior and cliche though it might be, we are all the same underneath. On the dancefloor we are all equal. Now I must go and prepare the rest of my Miss World speech…

15/07/201515/07/2015

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Me and my camera in my home town, my capital city, my london

Someone asked Tony Hadley when was the last time they played on a stage that small. The answer: Never.

The entertainment on offer for the Serpentine Gallery Summer Party was as A list as its party guests: Spandau Ballet, Mark Ronson and 2manydjs. All headliners in their own right. The bill must have been eye-watering although based on everything else at this doo it looks like money is clearly not an issue for the organisers. Art now seems to be synonymous with wealth which I never cease to find ironic & slightly ludicrous as, by its very definition, is something which should exist for its own right and not for its worth. Try telling that to this lot.

At one point Tony Hadley tried to get the crowd to join in a singalong. He had obviously clocked the demographic of his audience and declared in his best estuary accent: “You’re not too posh to sing are ya?” They were. They didn’t.

14/07/2015

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Me and my camera in my home town, my capital city, my london

This week’s photographs are from the Serpentine Pavillion Summer Party which was on just recently. This is an event I have documented in previous years. It is regarded as one of the most prestigious events of London’s socialite scene and is well documented in the press for its A list attendees. I thought it would be an interesting contrast to last week’s Glastonbury shots. The difference between the crowds is relatively simple. In Glasto it doesn’t matter what you wear, what you look like or who you are. At this function, these are the only three things that matter.

To say the guests are ‘dolled up to the nines’ is an understatement. Every posh frock, every designer item, every bespoke suit is top of the range. The women are doing their absolute utmost to outdo each other but it is a tall order, even for the leggy supermodels. Despite having probably spent God knows how long getting ready there is an entire team of make-up staff on hand to do face and hair touch-ups throughout the night. I spent six days in Glasto without a shower and here I am with people who can’t get through an evening without getting re-glammed. Worlds collide.

13/07/2015

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Me and my camera in my home town, my capital city, my london

09/07/201504/08/2015

#MYGLSTO’15 – Pt IV

Me and my camera on the festival circuit, my adult playground, my glastonbury

Sometimes to understand the whole you have to examine a slice and this random woman featured above is the perfect example of the glorious gusto which Glasto creates. This was an incredible display of what can only be described as part experimental dance, part shakin’ her thang, part freak out. Whatever it was, it was uncontrollable, uninhibited & quite unbelievable to watch as she gave her all on the floor of the Deluxe Diner as people sat around and ate their lunch. This is what Glastonbury does to people. The festival hadn’t even properly started yet. This was on the thursday. At At 3 o’clock in the afternoon!

But this is where Glastonbury is weird. At most festivals it takes people a couple of days to get into the swing of things. At Glasto people are full on from the off, they arrive and they go immediately hells bells. They are wilder, more fun and far more ready to give it their all from the moment they get there than anywhere else on the planet. I don’t completely understand how no-one seems to need a run up. My own personal theory is that decades of positive energy left on site from all the previous festivals hangs in the atmosphere and infiltrates everyone on arrival. I’m not sure what else can account for the instant exuberance that the Glastonians demonstrate.

After the wild woman finished her routine she calmly sat back down with her friends as if nothing had happened. What sealed her in my mind as a true representative of what is great about Glasto is that she had written on her arm with a sharpie “Friday, 3pm, Bandstand” which I took to mean that she anticipated getting utterly wasted before then and the only way to guarantee her arrival at a designated meet point for a gig or to hook up with friends was to scrawl it in indelible ink on her body. That way, the reminder would always be there for her or for anyone who happen to stumble upon her in the following 24 hours. Genius.

03/07/201503/07/2015

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Me and my camera in my home town, my capital city, my london

The original residents of Notting Hill which still remains amongst its new posh inhabitants still have a very tight community where most people seem to know each other. Portobello Road is the road everyone strolls down to do their bits and bobs and to interact, mostly during the week as its full of thousands of tourists at the weekend.

The “Stop & chat” is the dominant form of socialising in the hood and you can see it happening every day throughout the day. It is very rare in London to have this sense of community where you actually know your neighbours. It is quite unique in this day and age, especially in a city as large and anonymous as the one we live in. Personally I am a fan of the “stop and chat”. Its socialising without planning or eating and lasts just long enough to have a bit of conversation without running out of things to say.

It is apparently this type of interactive social cohesion which brings wellbeing and happiness to people’s lives. Next time you avoid eye contact with your neighbour or don’t speak to the person who works in the shop you see every day maybe don’t. It just might make your day. ..and even theirs.

02/07/201522/06/2015

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Me and my camera in my home town, my capital city, my london

01/07/201522/06/2015

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Me and my camera in my home town, my capital city, my london

30/06/201522/06/2015

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Me and my camera in my home town, my capital city, my london

29/06/201501/07/2015

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Me and my camera in my home town, my capital city, my london

26/06/201522/06/2015

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Me and my camera in my home town, my capital city, my london

the subject’s of this week’s photographs are similar only in their differences. Or are they? Despite their varied external appearance do they maybe all share a commonality underneath? A sadness that breaks through, that makes them human, that makes them the same? Discuss.

25/06/201519/06/2015

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Me and my camera in my home town, my capital city, my london

24/06/201519/06/2015

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Me and my camera in my home town, my capital city, my london

23/06/201519/06/2015

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Me and my camera in my home town, my capital city, my london

22/06/201519/06/2015

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Me and my camera in my home town, my capital city, my london

19/06/201519/06/2015

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Me and my camera in my home town, my capital city, my london

If you want to see full gallery “Street Wall” please click here

This week features a collection of street art from New London, as it is now officially known, well, it isn’t, apart from by me that is…yes, I am trying to make “New London” happen. I just feel the wealthy & prohibitively expensive modern metropolis it now is needs a new name as it has transformed quite so extensively from what it once was…

New London appropriately houses a very new type of graffiti. You are more likely to find corporate sponsored murals than anything generated by illegal sprayers. You can mosey around Shoreditch these days and see great examples of aerosol applied art but its reactionary street edge has been transformed into standard advertising. The only difference is it is on a wall not a billboard. Even their biggest enemies, rebellious youths & anti-establishment anarchists, are eventually adopted by big business…does everyone cave into cash in the end? Is it always that inevitable? Does capitalism always win?

Graffiti art used to be done under the cover of night. Stencils were invented so that spraying could be done quicker to avoid potential capture and arrest. Nowadays it is done in broad daylight as they are hired for their services and no longer need to remain anonymous. In fact, graffiti artists are now actively trying to get noticed so they can hopefully cash in. Gone is the desire to remain a mystery. They actually now leave their website address, as in the one above, so they can get potential work. A friend of mine is a graffiti artist and he now gets paid handsomely by corporate companies to give lessons in street art to their staff.

There is even an estate agent in Notting Hill that has commissioned a huge street art mural on the side of its building (in gallery-see link above), Given the nature of its covert illegal origins this is the equivalent of drug dealers selling their contraband goods in Boots the chemist….umm, I’m looking for the coke dealer. Oh, he’s right there in the corner, over by the deodorants. Its part of the meal deal if you get a wrap of Ketamine and a sandwich with it. Cool, thanks.

Having said all that you do still see some remarkable works of graffiti art in the city. The skills remain, just the intention & context has somewhat changed. I rarely take photographs of street art as always presume someone else has got it covered but this selection caught my eye and reflected this new paradoxical wave of street legal illegal street art.

05/06/201505/06/2015

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Me and my camera in my home town, my capital city, my london

This week’s dedicated followers of fashion are a celebration of one of the great British traditions: The Eccentric Dressed Gent. They also champion the fact that you can pretty much get away looking any which way you wish in London. One of the joys of a melting pot metropolis is that you can really be who you want to be and wear what the fuck you like and no-one will really give a shit.

The irony is that all these flamboyant dressers move to the big cities, not so they can stand out, but so they can blend in. Much as their outfits would imply the need to be noticed I feel its actually the opposite. When you live in a small town you stand out like a sore thumb if you break from the norm in the slightest of ways but amongst the millions you barely get a look in. And maybe that’s just what they want.

All the freaks, weirdos, crazy dressers and extroverts flock to places all over the world where they can be themselves. In London we are tolerant of everyone. We don’t judge. Not because we are necessarily enlightened, we just can’t be bothered. We’re too busy getting worked up about other shit. People’s chosen attires are the least of our problems. So if you want to release your “inner peacock” London might just be the place for you…

04/06/201504/06/2015

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Me and my camera in my home town, my capital city, my london

03/06/201503/06/2015

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Me and my camera in my home town, my capital city, my london