artbooks in shoreditch. i bought the stencil book in the foreground.
the how and why of shopping; the where and when of it; who should shop (and who should not); retail etiquette, economics, logistics; all in the form of a list.
schmaltzy muck from the christmas bullshit truck. print people/kk outlet on hoxton square.
1. conscious shopping is as worthy a pursuit for a person of discernment and curiosity as is museum-going. by stating this view i risk being labeled a philistine; so be it. i stand by it. gives shopping a bad name: mass-produced, synthetic, disposable, interchangeable goods on the high street. 2. the only times to go shopping are when you need the daily (groceries), one specific thing (shoelaces), or else need nothing at all. it’s this last category that interests me.
buttons from anna’s gardening shirt, 1978. at prick your finger, globe road. £8. i didn’t buty this. yet. 3. shopping and shopkeeping are, at their best, exquisite anthropological pursuits, in which, from the infinite universe of goods available, one or two rooms worth are chosen, arranged, and priced. this last is what makes a shop; in a retail context,unpriced items cease to exist.
not a very big bag, so i ended up leaving the hat behind. and the water bottle. 4. as ever, boundaries are essential. these may include a certain sized bag, a time span, a neighborhood, or a budget. of these, a budget is a fiction, and therefore least useful. when traveling, i generally avoid purchasing things that require shipping. i sometimes put off lunch, so to have both a treat when finished and a blood sugar enforced deadline.
model of london. at scp, curtain road. £150.
5. the world is vast; shops are many; time is short: do a bit of research before you set out. good shops are like grapes; they happily grow in clusters. use google maps to search out antique stores, used bookshops, and art galleries. where they intersect is likely to be fertile territory. shopping is personal; i know perhaps a dozen people whose taste i trust enough to let guide me; they are golden.
aghast to see that one block over from labour and wait, an old favourite, j. crew has set up shop. 6. why why why would you go into a chain store? do you seek confirmation of your sad, misguided belief that every place is like every other place? have you limitless time and money and attention and energy? do you live in fear? yes, yes, and yes? well get on with it then. shopping can be like religion, premised on confirming a worldview, not upending one. but give me anthropology or over anthropologie any day.
in brick lane, at the sign of the chair. . .is ‘unto this last’, a shop and workshop in one. . .where the sight of things being made is always on offer. . .
by shopkeeper, woodworker, and moral philisopher olivier geoffroy (right) and his crew.7. crafts, in general, make me wary, yet i’m a sucker for shops where things are made. i resolve this seeming contradiction by facing two hard truths:
in every aesthetic pursuit (art,music, fashion,architecture) there are more bad things than good things. and. . .
the virtues of the maker (diligence, technical skill, enthusiasm) do not convey to that which they make. many bright, intriguing people create ungainly work. love the sinner; hate the sin.
john ruskin presides, in every sense.it was a pleasure to stumble upon ‘unto this last’ a shop with a manifesto and reasonably priced goods. that’s another thing about crafts: so often they’re the realm of delusional pricing, coupled with a kind of wild-eyed defensiveness. not at ‘unto this last’; olivier has joined retail economics to his process with the same care he joins all else. there’s enough depth and interest here to merit a stand-alone post, but we must keep moving.
hair and food, together at last. 8. it’s pleasant to think we can be all things to all people, but the mark of mature awareness to know we can not. i noted with alarm a galloping trend: the portmanteau shoppe. barber and parlour, on redchurch street, is one (of too many) examples.here, in close proximity, hair, coffee, cocktails, meals, juices, and fingernails are pressed, clipped, poured, and over-curated. i wandered in, became dazed, and hurried out. doing one thing well is plenty hard.
carpet yarn at prick your finger, globe road.tea at t2 redchurch street
unlikely chocolates at present, shoreditch high street. 9. retail is simple: pile it high, price it to sell. a reason shops are comforting is that they present the illusion of an abundant universe. want is negated, denied, kept from view. though stepping into this fantasy can be pleasant, it behooves us to remember deeper truths and not to succumb for longer than a few hours. those who indulge in ‘retail therapy’ as a central pursuit are to be both pitied and censured.
behind an unmarked door and down a featureless hallway. . .beside a tiny zen courtyard. . .is jasper morrison’s hidden shop. . .where every snowflake is unique.
10. rarely are we in the presence of the personal enclave of a retail master. add to paul smith’s furniture shop, and john derian’s adjoining townhouses the tiny, hidden, nameless shop that jasper morrison keeps in shoreditch.
it’s delightful to find a space that, within a rigorous format, brings together high and low, making the new seem familiar, inevitable even. you will know if this is for you and seek it out. i will keep the address to myself, as a mark of respect for what i found there, and to make your discovery of it that much more meaningful.
what i bought: books, handkerchiefs, hot water bottle, gloves, and zebra paper.
it’s delightful to find a space that, within a rigorous format, brings together high and low, making the new seem familiar, inevitable even. you will know if this is for you and seek it out. i will keep the address to myself, as a mark of respect for what i found there, and to make your discovery of it that much more meaningful. 