How London learned to dress

The Horniman museum traces style in the capital.

London is a leading fashion capital with arguably the most diverse and eclectic sense of style of any city in the world. The Horniman museum’s new major exhibition, The Body Adorned, explores how this sense of freedom and individuality was born.

The display includes a vast array of striking objects from the Horniman’s archives. It opens with a Papua New Guinean “Ancestor” figure from the 19th century draped in jewellery and flowing grass skirts. The grinning statue sits alongside the figure of Guanyin, a deity of compassion whose lengthened ear lobes and top knot would not look out of place on a Brick Lane art student.  In this, the first section of the exhibition, a wide range of African, Chinese and European folk costumes are featured exploring the relationship between the wearer and the messages they convey through their dress. These costumes often reflecting social status, gender, warfare, religion, marriage and death, many ideas that are important driving forces behind the way we choose to dress today.

As the exhibition progresses, we get a sense of how, through the mass movement of people caused by Britain’s colonial expansion and scientific exploration, new objects and ideas and cultural adornments have become integrated into urban trends.  Indeed, today, saris, nail bars, tattoo parlours, distended ears and a range of "body mods" have become an everyday part of the London metropolis.

Turning to the present day, interviews with Londoner’s about their relationship with their clothing and the city play out. “Everything is accepted in London,” one woman muses. Another agrees, “I like London, it makes you feel free”. There is an inescapable sense of pride in the way people talk about their dress, “we don’t have money but we still want to look nice,” says a teenager, a thick gold chain round his neck. However, these interviews also betray the way in which the city creates a certain sense of anxiety within its habitants, “I’m not part of what’s going on in the buildings,” says an old woman, “but I can’t go round the city looking scruffy”. There is an illuminating quote from a homeless man wherein he describes “wearing what he can get his hands on”. Tellingly, one man says of another, “he looks like a lay-about”, reflecting the inescapable judgments made on the basis of appearance.

By the end of the exhibition, the viewer has been offered an overview of a range of cultural ideas and practices of dress that have formed the way in which Londoners dress their bodies. Yet, there are some striking omissions. The Body Adorned entirely ignores the influence of the British fashion industry, popular culture and English heritage. There is no mention of the British high-street or the influence of celebrities, who have an undeniably far-reaching effect on the clothing choices of young Londoners. Moreover, the more interesting aspects of the exhibition are skimmed over; the relationship between contemporary fashion and religion, the power of advertising, the lure of brand names.

Given that the exhibition opened not long after the London riots, which saw hundreds of young people looting trainers from sports shops, it would, perhaps, have been interesting to reflect on the economic gap between London’s richest and poorest inhabitants. The riots told us much about those who aspire to a certain social status, which often centres on clothes appearance but which will, for the majority, remain out of their reach.

The Body Adorned is on display until 6 January 2013.

Photo: Urban Portraits Horniman Museum
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How did Don’t Tell the Bride lose its spark?

Falling out of the love with reality TV’s wedding planning hit.

Steph, 23, from Nottinghamshire, is standing in a drizzly field wearing a wedding dress. Her betrothed, Billy, is running around in a tweed flat cap trying to make some pigs walk in “a continuous parade”. A man from Guinness World Records is watching with a clipboard, shaking his head. Bridesmaids gaze sorrowfully into the middle distance, each in a damp pig onesie.

Thus ends the second wedding in E4’s new series of Don’t Tell the Bride – and the programme’s integrity with it.

When the classic programme, which follows grooms attempting to plan their wedding (punchline: human males doing some organising), began a decade ago on BBC Three, it had the raw spark of unpredictability. For eight years, the show did nothing fancy with the format, and stuck with pretty ordinary couples who had few eccentric aspirations for their wedding day.

This usually resulted in run-of-the-mill, mildly disappointing weddings where the worst thing that happened would be a reception at the nearest motorway pub, or an ill-fitting New Look low heel.

It sounds dull, but anyone who has religiously watched it knows that the more low-key weddings expose what is truly intriguing about this programme: the unconditional commitment – or doomed nature – of a relationship. As one of the show’s superfans told the Radio Times a couple of years ago:

“It’s perfect, and not in an ironic or post-ironic or snarky way. The format has the solemn weight of a ceremony . . . Don’t Tell the Bride is not about ruined weddings, it’s about hope. Every wedding is a demonstration of how our ambitions curve away from our abilities. It’s a show about striving to deserve love and how that’s rarely enough.”

It also meant that when there were bombshells, they were stand-out episodes. High drama like Series 4’s notorious Las Vegas wedding almost resulting in a no-show bride. Or heart-warming surprises like the geezer Luke in Series 3 playing Fifa and guzzling a tinny on his wedding morning, who incongruously pulls off a stonking wedding day (complete with special permission from the Catholic Church).

For its eight years on BBC Three, a few wildcard weddings were thrown into the mix of each series. Then the show had a brief affair with BBC One, a flirt with Sky, and is now on its tenth year, 13th series and in a brand new relationship – with the more outrageous E4.

During its journey from BBC Three, the show has been losing its way. Tedious relationship preamble has been used to beef up each episode. Some of the grooms are cruel rather than clueless, or seem more pathetic and vulnerable than naïve. And wackier weddings have become the norm.

The programme has now fully split from its understated roots. Since it kicked off at the end of July, every wedding has been a publicity stunt. The pig farm nuptials are sandwiched between a Costa del Sol-based parasail monstrosity and an Eighties Neighbours-themed ceremony, for example. All facilitated by producers clearly handing the groom and best men karaoke booth-style props (sombreros! Inflatable guitars! Wigs!) to soup up the living room planning process.

Such hamminess doesn’t give us the same fly-on-the-wall flavour of a relationship as the older episodes. But maybe this level of artifice is appropriate. As one groom revealed to enraged fans in The Sun this week, the ceremonies filmed are not actually legally binding. “It makes a bit of a mockery of the process that the bride and groom go through this huge ordeal for a ceremony which isn’t even legal,” he said. Perhaps we should’ve predicted it would all eventually end in divorce – from reality.

Don’t Tell the Bride is on E4 at 9pm

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.