Market folk this week. Portobello Rd would be nothing without the market and the people that are a part of it. The Market is like the coral reef that attracts all the fish. It generates an entire ecosystem around it. Not that you see many fish shopping on Portobello Road..or anywhere else for that matter, they’re not known for their consumerist tendencies or the ability to live outside water if we’re really getting down to it..ok, maybe this was a bad analogy. Truth is I spend a lot of time watching a live cam from a coral reef in Honduras as find it very relaxing so have clocked up so many man hours I think it’s starting to infiltrate the way I see the world (you can see here if you like that sort of thing, altho think evenings only if in Europe, the fish gotta sleep sometime right?).
Anyway nautical comparisons aside, the market is not only a beacon for tourists it is also the lifeblood of the local community. It has created opportunities for them to make a living and generates a ton of business for the area as a whole. It is now busier than it’s ever been and on a Saturday is almost like a mini festival as giant hoards descend upon it in search of..umm, the perfect photo opportunity.
Have spoken to a lot of the market stall holders who say that often the tourists, who are the bulk load of their footfall, mostly just take pictures and don’t buy anything except for the touristy London trinkets like the man above is selling which seem to go by the truckload. This seems a bit sad to me because you can get that shit anywhere but I guess if there is demand there is supply. And who am I to talk about people who just take pictures? Honestly, glass houses mate..
You can still find lots of amazing random unique stuff on the market but for me, as you can probably tell, it is the market stall holders themselves who are the real attraction. They really are an amazing bunch of characters. Old school cockneys, members of the local Carribbean community, immigrants from all cultures and even Chelsea type poshos. Just as the coral reef attracts all types of fish (yes we are back on that) so does the lure of the market bring all manner of men and women.
Most of the transient population of Portobello are there for recreation but the foundations of which everything is built are the traders and they work hard for a living. They have to get up at the crack of dawn, and peddle their wears through rain and shine and have to be always on their game to catch the passing fish (yes one more, why not?) so they themselves can survive. Spare a thought next time you strolling down..
Funky fashion this week. There are a lot of people out there, especially round here, that have their own unique style, their own specific brand of me, carefully curated and presented with intent. Lots of mini micro fashion decisions on display. And yet despite everyone’s attempts to be original you do see essentially the same styles regurgitated over and over with slight variation..no matter how specific someone looks they always seem rooted in a particular look or fashion tribe.
No matter how outlandish, most combos have been done at one time or another..but I can honestly say I have never ever EVER seen anyone with a haircut like this. Not once. Not ever. I mean possibly in the 18th century or in a french patisserie but never walking down the street. I honestly don’t even know what I am looking at, but I am utterly mesmerised by it and in genuine admiration for the sheer moxie (still watching boardwalk empire). And yet when you see a hairdo this bold you generally have an equally bold outfit but the rest of this guy is pretty normal. Anyway hats off to you mister (and some might say you should wear one) you have broken the mould. You are one of a kind.
Actually someone else who is one of a fashion kind is this magnificent dresser, Jama Elmi who I have featured on this blog before (see here) Back then I called him ‘loud suit man’ cos I didn’t know his name. We have since chatted a few times. He is an explosion of colour and has a seemingly limitless supply of brightly coloured suits and his outfits are always spectacular.
He is a ray of light and brings joy wherever he goes. He also has to be the most photographed man in West London by a stretch. Over the years I have built up quite a collection of him myself whilst a good friend of mine, Sylvain Seresin shot a whole pop video around him and he is even currently the subject of an entire exhibition at the Muse gallery on Portobello Rd (on till tmrrw if you in the hood)
And he doesn’t just look good, he is also a lovely human being. He exudes a positivity that is actually incredibly infectious and always leaves you smiling. As a person who is veering more and more into all black (cue Unlovable by the Smiths)
I find it very impressive that anyone has the spirit to constantly embody such upbeat attire. And unlike anyone else you feel he is wearing this stuff not just for himself or the attention but for the happiness it will generate in others which is a very rare impetus in people’s fashion choices, possibly unique.
It took me over six months to get back to Portobello Rd which is just a 5minute walk from my flat but it might as well have been at the top of Mt Everest because I did not have the capacity to get there. Before I became housebound I would be down there every day, even throughout my illness, and if I ever skipped a day I felt off. I felt liked I’d missed something. The street also became my number one destination for taking photographs so for me going there was like going to work. And you go to work every day right? And then it was like I’d got laid off. I was actually laid up but the end result was the same. And for most of my months indoors I pined to be back there, desperate to be back amongst the throng (is that right? sounds right looks wrong..and btw wtf even IS a throng anyway?)
I was so excited to finally get back there but the moment I put my foot down on the street it was actually incredibly anti-climatic. Nothing had changed. I had been on this intense journey (even though i didn’t actually go anywhere) which seemed to have lasted a lifetime and here I was back on the ‘Bello and it was as if I had never left. The flower seller was sat where she was always sat looking at her phone. The old narky guy who was always in the window at Joe and the Juice was still there. Eerily the seemingly same tourists were standing in the doorway of the Ginstitute taking pictures of each other.
The falafel guy who I had spoken to every day just said..oh, havent seen you in a while like it had been a few days. I’d been gone half a year and no-one had noticed. Not that I expected them too. Actually maybe I did a little bit. Actually tell a lie, I imagined there would be crowds cheering my triumphant return, ticker tape, a mariachi band, the full fucking works. And nada. Not a sausage. I didn’t take it personally. It just shows how wrapped up in their own heads everyone is. And that’s fair enough. We all are.
But having said all that I was still happy to be back, although as you can see from the photographs not everyone was. There had probably been some relief that there wasn’t that guy going round sticking his camera in people’s faces as they went about their day. Fair enough. And it took me a little while to get back into my stride but once I see someone I can’t resist capturing that’s it, I am off and running. Well not actually running. I’ve just mastered walking again. One step at a time…
p.,s what’s going on with that woman’s bag? What does that mean? And isn’t a weird thing to put on a bag?
