High Street, Kensington 
A long time ago, (when I were a lad), High Street Kensington was the home to Biba, the most fabulous boutique on earth, where my cousin Rachel went to buy trendy clothes that she dreamed would make her look like Julie Driscoll, or the lady on the right.
In its heyday, Biba took up the entire Derry and Toms department store building, and beautiful young ladies could try on their maxi coats and kinky boots surrounded by Egyptian columns, marble flooring, and Art Deco stained glass.
I sat in my bedroom, listening to the first and second Roxy Music albums, dreaming of the glamorous, amplified, sexy, drug enhanced, world my generation would eventually inherit.
Then we joined the Common Market, and had a recession, and a three-day week.
Then a bit later we had punk, which was not really glamorous or sexy, but it was amplified and fun.
In its heyday, Biba took up the entire Derry and Toms department store building, and beautiful young ladies could try on their maxi coats and kinky boots surrounded by Egyptian columns, marble flooring, and Art Deco stained glass.
I sat in my bedroom, listening to the first and second Roxy Music albums, dreaming of the glamorous, amplified, sexy, drug enhanced, world my generation would eventually inherit.
Then we joined the Common Market, and had a recession, and a three-day week.
Then a bit later we had punk, which was not really glamorous or sexy, but it was amplified and fun.
