At S.Festenstein & Sons, Furriers
Observe this young woman peering from the upper window of S.Festenstein & Sons in Banner St, Bunhill Row, around 1900. She looks a little precarious, as if she had climbed up onto a table in her curiosity to look down at the photographer below. She did not know that Mr Festenstein was standing in the doorway in his top hat, three floors below, and I wonder if any comment was made when the photograph was shown to the proprietor later. Yet she had won her place in eternity, which is surely a satisfactory outcome from taking a five minute break?
Danny Tabi, the last furrier in the East End, told me that in 1967 he worked at Gale Furs in Fournier St, when James Mason was filming The London Nobody Knows in the street outside. There is a famous tracking shot that captures all the factory workers as they crowd the pavement and lean from the windows. Danny can name all of them and now regrets that – unlike the woman at Festensteins – he forsook his opportunity to be captured on film, just because he wanted to finish his piece of work in hand.
The fur trade flourished in East London for centuries, working with imported skins that came through the London Docks – and these photographs of Festenstein & Sons, one among hundreds of similar companies, record a trade that no longer suits the sensibility of our modern world and has almost vanished entirely today.
S. Festenstein & Sons, 31 & 33, Banner St, Bunhill Row, Ec1
Is this Mr Festenstein in his silk hat?
Factory workers step outside to watch the photographer
In the Factory
In the Skin Department
In the Showroon
Home Order Department
Overseas Order Department
Images courtesy Bishopsgate Institute
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Phil Maxwell’s Mobile Phone Zombies
“I photographed people with mobile phones since they first arrived on Brick Lane in the eighties,” Contributing Photographer Phil Maxwell admitted to me, “What’s happened is that those people on the phone have become separated from the dynamic life of the street, inhabiting their own digital bubble. It’s a change that’s crept up and now you can no longer tell who’s deranged, when everyone is talking to themselves.”
Photographs copyright © Phil Maxwell
CLICK HERE TO GET A COPY OF PHIL MAXWELL’S ‘BRICK LANE’ FOR £10
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New Designs From Old Treasures
Renaissance Bronze bridle motif embellished with gold and set upon a silver pin
Jewellery maker Romilly Saumarez Smith has long been fascinated by all the small pieces of metalwork from previous ages that litter our landscape, endlessly lost, buried and rediscovered. The majority are not of significant quality or value to merit inclusion in a museum yet – however modest they may be – each of these items possesses a potent magic of their own. They speak of their makers and owners who inhabited this land centuries ago, evoking other times and other ways.
Over the last three years, Romilly has developed a collection of jewellery that cherishes these artefacts, presenting them in settings and mounts which are sympathetic to their material and form. A cardinal principle is that no object is damaged and the patina acquired over time is preserved.
“Because they come from the landscape, I decided to put them back into a landscape,” explained Romilly, referring to the subtle sculptural form of her work which exploits the possibilities of burnt and oxidised silver and gold to produce muted tones that offer a natural complement to the worn surface of old metal.
“Many of these are things that people have lost, maybe they fell off a bridle on the battlefield, and were once searched for,” Romilly told me, as I wondered over the great variety of her ancient treasures laid out upon her table in Stepney. Each one has been rescued now for perpetuity, ingeniously worked into brooches, mounting on rings or attaching onto pendants, so they will be valued and preserved safely by their new owners.
Upon closer examination, you realise that each piece consists a puzzle – or rather – a solution to a puzzle. Every artefact possesses different qualities of form, challenging the designer to conceive of the ideal means to present it sympathetically – proposing a dialogue between the original maker and the jewellery designer today. It can be a conversation in which each speaks a different language with results both humorous and poetic – such as the pair of gold rings, entitled ‘King & Queen,’ in a setting which is unexpectedly revealing of the quirky personalities manifest in two old buckles.
There is an irresistible romance in these exquisite pieces that declare their elegant contemporary handmade quality while also engaging with the distant past so affectionately and respectfully. No longer discarded junk metal, they become precious talismans – setting the concerns of our moment against the wider perspective of history, offering a welcome consolation and a necessary sense of proportion to the fortunate owner living in our modern age.
Dark silver brooch with a Roman turban nail head, gilded pins and a piece of eighteenth century paste
Medieval button and Renaissance finial mounted upon a silver ring
Nineteenth century buckle with teeth encased in gold
Eighteenth century thimble with silver embellishment
Broken eighteenth century thimble with gold edge attached to serve as a ring
Renaissance metal finial from a leather belt set upon a gold pendant
Medieval enamel button mounted upon a gold ring
Nineteenth century thimble with gold
Nineteenth century cut stone mounted in reverse in gold with pearls
King & Queen, buckles mounted as rings
Bronze Saxon brooch with traces of original gilding and addition of gold ring
Medieval buttons mounted upon gold earrings
Saxon bronze pin head mounted upon a silver ring
Golden hand from an effigy mounted upon a silver ring
Medieval castle brooch adorned with pearls and gold pins
Eighteenth century clasp filled with black pearls and gold pins mounted on a gold ring
Silver and gold pendant with black pearls, nineteenth century paste and earlier studs, finials and nail heads
Saxon ring embellished with pearls threaded on gold wire
Nineteenth century thimble mounted upon a gold ring
Saxon ring embellished with pearls threaded on gold wire
Medieval button mounted upon a gold ring
Nineteenth century thimble embellished with gold and silver wire
Photographs copyright © Lucinda Douglas Menzies
NEWFOUNDLAND – Joint exhibition of Romilly Saumarez Smith‘s jewellery alongside the work of Edmund de Waal runs Friday 10th to Sunday 12th October, 11am – 5pm
If you would like an invitation to attend the exhibition please email romilly@saumarezsmith.wanadoo.co.uk
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At The Bethnal Green Weightlifting Club
Dominic Patmore, Powerlifter
In Turin St, there is a single-storey brick building so unassuming that even the locals do not know what it is, yet this is home to the celebrated Bethnal Green Weightlifting Club. The esteemed members believe their association dates from 1926, but a poster for the New Bethnal Green Weightlifting & Physical Culture Club on the wall inside the gym, dated 1931, suggests that its origin may be earlier.
Even the most senior member, Ron Whitton of Columbia Rd, is a relative newcomer who joined in 1946. He greeted Contributing Photographer Sarah Ainslie & I when we paid a visit at the weekend, fresh from his twice-weekly swim in the Serpentine and preparing for his twice-weekly weightlifting session to follow. A sprightly octogenarian, Ron is a shining exemplar of the health benefits of body-building and weightlifting. “I’ve always been a keep fit guy,” he vouched, indicating the photos of his former glories upon the wall,“there’s not many guys of eighty-three still training.”
“In 1946, it was just an old shed in the playground with one or two bars and a set of dumbbells, where a couple of guys who’d come out of the forces started weight-training,” Ron recalled fondly, casting his eyes around the hallowed space, “Around 1948, Jack Brenda, Secretary of the Club, opened up this place but it was like something out of the Hammer House of Horrors then, it had been closed for years and there was no equipment, but we got it going and we’ve been here ever since.”
On Saturday morning, we encountered a mutually respectful crew of all sizes of male and female weightlifters absorbed in their training session, punctuated with intense cathartic moments when a major lift was ventured and one among them heaved and strained, channelling the support of their comrades egging them on, before throwing the weight down with a clang onto the mat. Although there were those who had the obvious advantage of size, most compelling in their lifts were those skinny individuals of diminutive stature who appeared to summon resources of strength from the ether in lifting weights that looked far beyond their apparent capacity.
“I started because I liked the idea of being strong,” powerlifter Laura Porter admitted to me, “but now I’m obsessed – it’s the satisfaction when you get a new personal best. I’m not super-duper strong yet, but I’m not bad and I like the feeling of being powerful.”
“It’s a good thing for women to do because it’s good for your bone strength, counteracting any tendency to brittle bones,” she revealed with a blush, “I’m approaching forty so I think about these things, but I hope to be weightlifting and competing in my sixties and beyond.”
A relaxed family atmosphere prevails at Bethnal Green Weightlifting Club, uniting enthusiasts of all ages and walks of life. “There was a time when every London borough had places like these but now there only two left in the entire capital,” Martin Bass, Club Secretary informed me, readily indicated pals that joined with him over forty years ago – and demonstrating the modest camaraderie among all those who seek transcendence of their physical and spiritual limits, here in confines of the gym, as a counterpoint to the external challenges of life’s journey beyond its walls.
Ron Whitton, still weighlifting at eighty-three
Ron is second from right at the Bethnal Green Physique Contest of 1952 – London’s first body-building contest. “all the other have passed away”
Laura Porter, Powerlifter
Laura – “I like the feeling of being powerful”
Martin Bass, Club Secretary and Member for forty-five years
At the Women’s Powerlifting Contest
Photographs copyright © Sarah Ainslie
Bethnal Green Weightlifting Club, 229 Bethnal Green Rd, E2 6AB – entrance in Turin St
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The Language Of Tailors
Complementing yesterday’s portrait of Chris Georgiou, Bespoke Tailor, today I offer this selection of the language of tailors.
Chris Georgiou
BABY – The stuffed pad of cloth that the tailor works his cloth on.
BALLOON, TO HAVE A – To have no money coming in at the end of the week.
BANGER – A piece of wood with a handle used to draw steam out of the material during ironing.
BOARD – Tailor’s work bench.
BUNCE – A perk of the trade. Mungo is one type of tailor’s bunce.
CODGER – A tailor who does up old suits.
CRIB – Larger scraps of cloth, saved from a length of cloth alloted for a job. The crib can be used to make a skirt or a pair of trousers. Another example of a tailor’s bunce.
DEAD – A job is dead when it’s been paid for already. So there is no more money coming in from it and it is as well to get it off your hands quickly.
DOCTOR – An alteration tailor – a separate trade in most houses.
DOLLY – A roll of material, wetted, and used as a sponge to dampen the cloth.
DRAG, IN THE– Late with a job of work.
DRUMMERS – Trouser makers. A term of contempt used by jacket makers to describe trouser makers because there is said to be less skill in making a pair of trousers. Trouser makers are also given the more contemptuous name of FOUR SEAMS & A RUB OF SOAP.
DUCK SHOVING – An East End expression, meaning making the stitches too big. The West End equivalent is SKIPPING IT.
GOOSE IRON – Hand iron, which used to be heated upon a gas flame.
INCH STICK – Wooden ruler.
KICKING – Looking for another job. If dissatisfied, a tailor might go out looking for another job during the lunch break.
A KILL – A job that is no good at all and cannot be resold. eg If burnt with an iron.
KIPPER – Female tailor’s assistant, called kippers because they always worked in pairs. This was for their own safety – a kind of chaperone system – so that one could protect the other if the tailor made advances.
MANGLE – Sewing machine. Old machine that worked on a treadle looked like mangles.
MUNGO – Cloth cuttings. These belong to the tailor and he can make a few pennies by selling them to a rag merchant.
ON THE COD – Gone for a drink.
ON THE LOG – Piecework. As in most trades, tailors are paid according to the amount of work they turn out. The work is logged up against the tailor’s name in the book.
A PORK – A job that customer rejects but which can be sold to someone else.
PT, RUBBING IN A – Fitting in a private job eg making yourself a pair of trousers during the lunch break. This practice os allowed in most work rooms provided th tailors are discreet about it, and do it in their own time.
SCHMUTTER, BIT OF OLD – Jewish expression for a piece of poor cloth.
SHEARS – Tailor’s scissors.
SKIFFLE – A fast job that a customer wants in a hurry.
SMALL SEAMS – A warning expression to a fellow tailor that the person you are talking about is coming into the room.
SOFT SEW – A cloth that is easy to work with eg tweed.
TWEED MERCHANT – A tailor who does the easy work. A term of contempt for a poor workman, because tweed being soft and rough is easier to work with than other cloths.
UMSIES – A name to describe someone who is in the room whom you are talking about but you do not want them to know it. Even if they hear, there is an element of doubt who you are referring to.
Photograph copyright © Colin O’Brien
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Chris Georgiou, Bespoke Tailor
“I’ve worked seven days a week for forty-five years – each morning I come in about half eight and stay until seven o’clock,” tailor Chris Georgiou assured me, “If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t do it.”
Contributing Photographer Colin O’Brien & I were standing in his tiny tailoring shop situated in one of the last quiet stretches of the Kings Cross Rd. “You don’t want to retire,” Chris advised us, thinking out loud and wielding his enormous shears enthusiastically, “The bank manager round the corner retired and he’s had three heart attacks in three years and he now he takes thirty-five pills a day. He came to see me. ‘Chris, never retire!’ he said. A friend of mine, a tailor who worked from home, he retired but after a couple of years he came to see me, ‘Chris,’ he said, ‘Can I come and help you for a couple of days each week? I don’t want any money, I just need a reason to walk down the road.'”
Chris shook his head at the foolishness of the world as he resumed cutting the cloth and thus Colin & I were assured of the unlikelihood of Chris ever retiring. And why should when he has so many devoted long-term customers who appreciate his work? As we discovered, when a distinguished-looking gentleman came in clutching an armful of striped shirts that matched the one he was wearing and readily admitted he was a customer of fourteen years standing. Thus it was only a brief interview that Chris was able to grant us but, like all his work, it was perfectly tailored.
“I started out to be tailor at twelve years old, to learn this job you have to start early and you need a lot of patience to hold a needle. My mother was a very good dressmaker and she made shirts, that’s where I got it from. In Cyprus, when you finish school at twelve years old, you must choose a trade. I always liked to dress smart, so I said, ‘I’m going to be a tailor.’ I came from a poor family and I couldn’t have gone to college.
So learnt from a tailor in our village of Zodia. First, I learnt to make trousers and then I learnt to make a jacket, and then it was time to change. After that, I went to another place and said, ‘I know how to make jackets.’ I told lies and I got the job, and I started to learn the art of tailoring. Then I came here in 1968, under contract to a maker of leather wear in Farringdon Rd but, after a year, I told my boss I was going off to do tailoring. And I went to several tailors to see how they do it in England and I bought this shop from one of them in 1969, just a year after I arrived. At first, I used to get jobs from other tailors doing alterations and then I acquired my own customers. 95% of them are barristers and I have never advertised, all my customers have come through recommendations.
When I make a suit, it’s not for the customer, it’s for the people who see the suit. That’s my secret. They wear their suits in chambers and the others ask them where they get their suits. My customers come from the City. It pleases me when you do something good, satisfy your customer and they leave happy. You can’t get rich by tailoring but you can make a good living. I’ve made a lot of suits for famous people whom I’m not at liberty to mention but I can tell you I made a dinner suit for Roger Daltrey, when he got an award for charity work from George Bush, and I made a suit for Lord Mayhew. He brought two security guards who stood outside the shop. I made suits for both his sons and he asked them where they got their suits. He used to go to Savile Row but now he comes here.
I don’t go out for lunch, I eat food prepared by my wife that I bring with each day from East Finchley. She doesn’t see too much of me, that must be why my marriage has lasted forty years.”
“When I make a suit, it’s not for the customer, it’s for the people who see the suit”
“To learn this job you have to start early and you need a lot of patience to hold a needle”
“It pleases me when you do something good, satisfy your customer and they leave happy”
Photographs copyright © Colin O’Brien
Chris Georgiou, 120 Kings Cross Rd, Wc1X 9DS
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The Alteration Tailors Of The East End
William West’s Tavern Anecdotes
It is my pleasure to publish this selection of the Origins of Signs by William West (1770-1854) from his Tavern Anecdotes of 1825 to be found in the Bishopsgate Library. “The absurdities which Tavern Signs present are often curious enough, but may in general be traced to that inveterate propensity which the vulgar of all countries have to make havoc with everything in the shape of a proper name,” West wrote contemptuously in his introduction.
THE MOON RAKERS
A house, by this sign. stands near Suffolk St, Southwark, and is well known to the inhabitants of that district. The natives of most counties are honoured by some ludicrous appellation by their neighbours and moon raker has long been synonymous with a Wiltshireman.
A party of Wiltshire smugglers having deposited their casks of contraband spirits in a pond, were in the act of raking them out on a moonlit night, when some excisemen cam near. Upon the latter demanding what they were about, one of the smugglers, with affected naivety, replied, “Whoy, don’t you zee that cheese there?” The idea that these pretended simpletons had actually mistaken the reflection of the moon for a cheese so diverted the excisemen that they laughed heartily and went away, and by this manoeuvre, they say, the smugglers’ kegs remained in safety.
BULL & MOUTH
This sign exhibits an instance of the corruption and perversion of language. Everybody knows that a bull has a mouth, but everyone does not know that is such a place as Boulogne, where there is a harbour, which necessarily must have an entrance, commonly called a mouth.
Originally the town was known as Boulogne Mouth, in allusion to the town and harbour of Boulogne, but the gne being generally pronounced by the Londoners on, it gradually became an and it only required the small addition of d to make and of it. The first part being before this made a bull of it, was ultimately converted to Bull & Mouth – the unmeaning title which it now bears. Situated in St Martin Le Grand, this is a house of much business, from whence several of the mails and various other coaches, to all parts of the kingdom, do take their departure.
HOLE IN THE WALL
There are various houses known by this name. That in Chancery Lane, nearly opposite to the gate leading in to Lincoln’s Inn Old Sq, is kept by Jack Randall, who has obtained the title of Nonpareil, having fought above a dozen pitched battles and proving the victor in every encounter. He weighs about ten stone six pounds and his height is about five feet six inches, but now he has retired from the ring, having nettled some blunt. There is also a noted ‘Hole in the Wall’ in Fleet St where compositors have long held their orgies.
THE DEVIL TAVERN
The Devil Tavern in Fleet St near Temple Bar was well known to the facetious Ben Jonson and the celebrated Lord Rochester also takes note of this notorious scene of revelry.
THE JOLLY SAILOR
This sign, like that of the Mariner’s Compass, Ship, Boat and Barge etc has been adopted in seaport towns, evidently in compliment to the seafaring man, as others have adopted the names of some favourite or fortunate admiral, commodore, captain etc.
ROBIN HOOD
Everyone is familiar with the history of Robin Hood. About half a century ago, there existed a debating society in London called ‘The Robin Hood Society’ which gave its name to house in Windmill St where it met.
FORTUNE OF WAR
This title is of considerable antiquity and probably originated with some veteran warrior, who had obtained prize money sufficient to enable him to retire and become publican. In Giltspur St, there is a house retaining that name, it is at the corner of Cock Lane, of Ghost notoriety.
THE WORLD TURNED UPSIDE DOWN
A sign, so named, is observable on the road to Greenwich. It is a representation of the globe with a man walking on the lower part, alluding to the state of inebriation, in which a person is sometimes said to suppose himself walking on the crown of his head.
THE LONDON ‘PRENTICE
A house so styled is situated in Old St near to Shoreditch church. This may have an allusion to the rising of the city apprentices or perhaps, more probably, taken from Hogarth’s representation of the Industrious & Idle Apprentices.
THE HORNS
There are many taverns so named but the most noted are the Horns Tavern in the vicinity of St Paul’s and the Horns at Kennington. Most of the public houses in Highgate have a large pair of horns fixed on the end of a long staff, by which it has been an ancient custom for persons to swear that they will never eat brown bread when they can get white and never kiss a maid when they can kiss the mistress, after which thy must kiss the horns and pay one shilling, to be spent in the house.
THE TANNER OF JOPPA
In Long Lane, Southwark, there is a house so named, probably having its origin in the times when Scripture names were adopted for men and things. In Acts CX V. 32, we read that the Apostle Peter dwelt for some time at the house of Simon, a tanner.
Images courtesy Bishopsgate Institute
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