“Let us toast to animal pleasures, to escapism, to rain on the roof and instant coffee, to library cards, to absinthe and good-hearted landlords, to music and warm bodies... and to the "good life", whatever it is and wherever it happens to be.”
― Hunter S. Thompson
"Every girl or boy I photograph is Alice" - Tim Walker
The faded grandeur of Somerset House makes the perfect backdrop for fashion photographer Tim Walker's fantastical new exhibition, 'Storyteller'. Fittingly, it was Halloween weekend when we tumbled into Tim Walker's wonderland and found ourselves in his topsy turvy world, which is both terrific and terrifying.
Image: Tim Walker, Storyteller
Tim Walker's mission is to turn daydreams into photographs, paying tribute to childhood fairy tales and English eccentricity on a dazzling and cinematic scale. Abandoned mansions provide the blank canvas for Tim's houses of fun, where pink clouds explode among the rhododendrons, World War II aeroplanes crash into the drawing room, and, brilliantly, a flying saucer interrupts a fox hunt.
Image: Tim Walker, Storyteller
These elaborate, imaginative sets evoke the macabre beauty of Tim Burton and the trippy theatricality of Baz Lurhman, but it's not a case of style over substance; Tim's work also displays an ethereal, wistful innocence that for some reason strikes a surprisingly emotional chord. At times I felt a tinge of sadness and nostalgia looking at some of his pictures, as you might feel when you play with your childhood doll's house again as an adult, and only then realise how wonderfully innocent and fragile it had been.
Image: Tim Walker, Storyteller
But it's not all Disney and 'happily ever afters'; there are monsters in the wardrobe, and you get the sense that at any moment, the house of cards could come tumbling down. Everyone who has ever read the original version of The Little Mermaid will know that in the classic creepy fairy tales, darkness lurks unsettlingly alongside the whimsical and beautiful. So it is in Tim's world.
In one photograph, a giant cello-playing bumblebee sits on a child's bed, who hides beneath it, unsure if the visitor is friendly or frightening. There is also something both joyful and sinister about Walker's portraits of the Monty Python old boys, clouded in a ghostly smoke as they inhale their exploding pipes.
Image: Tim Walker, Vanity Fair
The musical bumblebee is one of many props that are actually on display in the exhibition space, real and tangible. Also present are the WWII aeroplane, a giant snail, a skeleton, several grinning mechanical puppets and a romantic swan boat, all of which were used in his photo shoots.
Inside the exhibition. Image: from telegraph.co.uk
By including these genuine artefacts from his fantasy land, Tim blurs the boundaries between the safe, real world and the surreal landscape of his photographs.
It's a bit like when you wake up from a vivid dream, both relieved and disappointed to realise you are in your own bed, only to find some little memento under your pillow that proves it was all real after all... Tim Walker: Storyteller, supported by Mulberry, runs until 27 January at Somerset House, free entry.
The cut-throat world of the American high school is something of a second home for the ladies of my generation, having grown up on Saved by the Bell, Clueless and Mean Girls. But for most of us, our initiation into the world of Californian jocks and cheerleaders began in our formative years, with the one and only Grease.
There was therefore something very familiar about Future Cinema’s spectacular and interactive outdoor screening of the classic musical, which saw Barnes Common being completely transformed into the iconic Rydell High for the weekend.
From TNTmagazine.com
The greasy scent of burgers, candy floss, hairspray and motor oil was in the air, as nine thousand fans formed a sea of black leather and pink satin at this all-singing, all-dancing festival of nostalgia, organised by the team behind the acclaimed 'Secret Cinema'.
No detail went unnoticed and no expense was spared in the meticulous re-creation of Greaseland. It was all here; the vintage cars, Frenchy’s pyjama party, the school hall dance-off, Frosty’s Place Diner and even a Ferris wheel from which to gleefully shout, ‘I’m not pregnant!’
We were completely immersed in this alternate universe from the moment we walked in and were greeted by an all-American football coach: “Welcome back to Rydell girls, have a good year!”
We were then accosted by the excitable Pattie herself: “Oh my god I LOVE the first day of school, don’t you? Are you coming to cheerleader try outs? Can you spell Caribbean? Oh my god, you CAN? You HAVE to join the spelling team!”
By the time we’d grabbed a quick mac’n’cheese and some popcorn, and been on the receiving end of some killer lines that Danny Zuko himself would have been proud of (“Hey beautiful, I got something else you can put in your mouth...”), I could almost have believed I was genuinely a teenager at a 1950s pep rally.
After a couple of hours soaking up the school spirit, the summer day had drifted away and turned into a very autumnal night - I had chills, and they were multiplying.
Fortunuately, once the film started, we were up on our feet so often that we warmed up in no time. During key musical numbers, Future Cinema's team of actors burst onto the stage in front of the screen and taught the whole audience the moves (I'm proud to say I can now add the Hand Jive to my repertoire).
When the credits rolled, and the excitable crowd of T-Birds and Pink Ladies poured back out into the streets of suburban West London singing 'We Go Together', I felt totally uplifted, nostalgic and, well, young.
Despite appearances, there are unlikely parallels between my experience of a bog-standard Suffolk upper school and the glossier, more glamourous world of '50s Rydell High. Yes, in Hollywood, the kids all look like they’re in their 30s, people randomly burst into song and the school buses are distinctly yellower - but the cliques and geeks, the sadistic sports coaches, the sleepovers, the style faux pas, the crushes, and the unwritten rules of who sits where at lunch, are universal.
I've seen Grease countless times, but never got so much enjoyment from it as I did on that chilly night in Barnes. I can't wait to see what Future Cinema brings to life next.
Don't believe the naysayers; we're not all rude, overworked, passive aggressive cynics, tutting and elbowing each other on public transport. The spectacular opening ceremony for London 2012 has ushered in a new mood of friendly optimism in the capital. London is full to the brim of feel-good, cute, heart-warming and magical moments, if you look hard enough. Here are just a few of my highlights...
1. Play the piano
Street Pianos, Leicester Square. (Image from madsilence.wordpress.com)
Chances are you might have already spotted one of these friendly looking pianos somewhere in London this summer, each one handpainted with the instructions, 'Play me, I'm yours'.
From Holland Park and Marble Arch, to Liverpool Street Station and the Gherkin, wherever you are in London, you are never far away from your very own 'street piano'.
Pensioners, kids, city workers, night time revellers, wannabe buskers and high street shoppers have all been spotted taking some time out to tinkle the ivories, much to the surprise and delight of passers by.
According to the artist Luke Jerram, the Street Pianos project brings together invisible communities in London. People who might pass each other every day without a word now might just have a reason to stop for five minutes, smile, listen and sing with strangers.
Still dubious? Check out the group performance of Hey Jude in Soho...
2. Dog watching in Battersea Park
People-watching is overrated, bird-watching even more so. But dog watching? That's a thing.
As locals take their mutts on their Sunday morning walks in parks across the city, you can enjoy a cross-section of doggy London. Noble old labradors, pampered pugs, scruffy terriers and clumsy spaniels come out in full force for their daily scamper. It's impossible not to smile as they joyfully run, leap and frolic around as though they're in Disneyland.
Dogs are the ultimate ice-breakers. I am like a moth to a flame when I see a cute dog, try as I might, I can't stop myself from going and saying hello in a ridiculous voice. And it's another of those rare but marvellous situations when Londoners really don't think it's weird to be spoken to by a stranger.
3. Tributes to selflessness at Postman's Park
Tucked away in an unremarkable little park near St Paul's Cathedral, the lives of extra-ordinary people are immortalised in a beautiful way. Under an easily overlooked canopy in the corner of Postman's Park, surrounded by office blocks, are fifty Art Nouveau tiles embossed with the stories of people who have tragically died while saving the life of another.
These are not the tales of generals or officers - just ordinary Victorian civilians who gave the ultimate sacrifice. Reading their stories doesn't feel morbid or macabre. Instead, a quiet hour browsing the tributes - each with fascinating insights and flashes of detail like paraffin lamps and runaway horses - takes you back in time to Victorian London and introduces you to the Herberts, Marys and Godfreys whose heroism time might otherwise have forgotten.
4. Support the old family-run places in your area
Marine Ices, Chalk Farm (Image from ninaicecream.co.uk)
In a city full of self-consciously rustic and quirky establishments with distinctly modern price tags, it's rare and wonderful when you discover the real thing. Every neighbourhood has them, Fawlty Towers style operations where the decor hasn't changed for at least 20 years and retro classic dishes are served without a trace of irony.
Marine Icesin Chalk Farm, the oldest ice-cream parlour in London, is a family-run Italian, which couldn't look more dated if it tried - but the great thing is it's not trying, at all. Where else in London can you still get a proper Knickerbocker Glory? Plus, your granddad would approve of the generous ratio of prices to portions.
London is still just a collection of villages, really, and despite their dwindling numbers, there is a total feel-good factor to finding and supporting your local independent greasy spoons, dusty bookshops, barber shops and butchers. You know you're winning when the start asking if you want your 'usual'.
5. Read the Metro Good Deed Feed
Let it never be said that chivalry is dead. As long as accident-prone women keep leaving things on public transport, there will always be good deeds in London.
I have a dark green cashmere scarf from Zara that has been on adventures and misadventures across the world, and continues to find it's way back to me, like a trusty homing pigeon. My faithful scarf has been left at the Royal Festival Hall, on the pavement, at a lunchtime disco, even in Germany - but I've always managed to retrieve it thanks to kind people handing it in to lost property.
Now, we finally have a way of thanking these honest folk. If a fellow Londoner has ever paid your bus fare, lent you a tissue, ran after you when you've left cash at an ATM, or given you their cab, simply text into Metro's Good Deed Feed and let them know they made your day.
If however your hero is a hottie, you may however prefer to text into Rush Hour Crush, another of Metro's new feel-good reader columns. (It's like a less pervy version of Tube Crush).
6. Receiving a free meal in Pret
Image from photographersdirect.com
I got let off paying for my Monday morning Pret a Manger breakfast a few weeks ago, in a confusing encounter. The till assistant just mumbled, 'Don't worry about it', and then served the person behind me. I must have looked hungry.
I did feel a bit like a thief... but not enough to insist on paying (a free ham, mozzarella and tomato croissant and mocha tastes even better than usual). But apparently I’m not special – the same thing recently happened to my friend at work in a completely different part of London, and upon further discussion, we uncovered an urban legend that every London branch gives a free meal out every single day!
Whether this is a) true, or b) heartwarming is debatable. It could of course be a myth or a cynical marketing ploy circulated by the company to encourage loyal custom. But who cares? Free food simply brightens up my day.
