Tag Archives: Evening Standard

1980 ➤ Strange days, strange nights, strange people

It is January 1980 – out of the blue comes Steve Strange’s call
to join the late-night party that would run for years.
It turned into the Swinging Eighties. . .

Blitz, Christine Binnie, Jennifer, Iain R Webb, Julia Fodor

Performance art at the Blitz Club’s Easter Pageant 1980: Julia Fodor leads Jennifer Binnie and sister Christine (“Miss Binnie” the artist), both clad in sackcloth, in their first performance piece at the club. The girls sing Death Where is Thy Sting?/ Oh grave where is thy victory?/, an anthem they had learned as choir girls, and are passing out Cadbury’s Cream Eggs in an act of communion. (The sack dress had won Steve Strange’s January competition at Witchity’s to predict what people would be wearing in the 80s, long before Miss B created the notorious Neo-Naturists and threw away her clothes.) The allusion to crucifixion, left, seems to nod toward St Sebastian though it does not explain how the victim, fashionista Iain R Webb, would eventually secure the fashion editorship of The Times some years after this tableau was created. Blond-quiffed, white-faced Stephen Linard (extreme right, rear) is evidently pushing the Regency fop look this season. (Photograph courtesy of http://www.homersykes.com and published in the Sunday People 15 June)

First published in the Evening Standard, 24 Jan 1980:

❚ OF ALL THE BRIGHT YOUNG TIDDLERS in one small, though turbulent London pool, Steve Strange is the Big Fish. His is the pool the new Tatler magazine calls the 80s Set whose exploits it reports after its pages on solid old pedigree Society, under the section headed The Other Society. Only under-21s qualify for the 80s Set and by day you can be anything (broker’s runner, Tesco till-girl) but by night you must put on your Look.

King of the posers: London club host Steve Strange in Willy Brown workwear with Vivienne Lynn. (Photograph by © Derek Ridgers)

Steve was born with his (at 20, he resembles Marc Bolan’s baby brother), so he emerged as a natural arbiter of who has the Look and who hasn’t. And for a couple of years he has been positioned on the doors of the Right Places vetting entrants and ensuring exclusivity for the 80s Set.

At Billy’s in Dean Street he fronted a David Bowie lookalike night. Then the Blitz wine bar in Covent Garden gave him Tuesdays, which he still calls an Electro-Diskow where everyone has to dress to high-tech standards and create new dances to electronic music.

Witchity in Kensington kept imploring him to stage a party a month for them but that place, he says, “looked like a coal-cellar”, so he demanded, as Big Fish should, that they smarten up and improve their sound system. Triumphantly, next Thursday, Steve hosts an 80s prize ball there (admission £2, plus your Look).

Tonight, however, he begins a wild new night at the Blitz. Thursdays from now on will be cabaret night on a strictly Liza Minnelli level (a Bowles Club, perhaps?). Everyone must dress in Berlin/Pigalle/Vegas style and the band, Spandau Ballet, will attempt to combine vocals akin to Sinatra with “dance music for the future”. Believe it or not, Frank Sinatra and Shirley Bassey, says Steve, are very big with under-21s.

“We’ve already booked a fire-eater and what I want are more acts like strippers and jugglers,” he says, urging aspiring acts to contact him at the Blitz.

Understandably, our Big Fish’s ambition has really been fired and in his next breath he’s saying: “Two nights a week at the Blitz aren’t enough. London is just waiting for a good Saturday place – I mean, where do kids spend their Saturday nights? The Scala Cinema. I’m ready to start somewhere like New York’s Mudd Club. I’m only looking for the right backer…”

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Second date at the Blitz: Spandau Ballet pictured on 24 Jan 1980 (by Derek Ridgers)

Spandau Ballet,Evening Standard, Blitz Club, New Romantics, Steve Strange

Steve Strange’s first interview with the Evening Standard, 24 Jan 1980, telling us of his new cabaret night on Thursdays

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1980 ➤ One week in the private worlds of the new young

Evening Standard, Oct 16, 1980

First published in the Evening Standard, 16 October 1980

THE CYNICS may have written off London as dead in 1980 but somewhere under the skin a dozen small worlds are struggling to prove our swinging capital is not yet finished. Each private world has its own star system and its own code of conduct. Some steer a scenic route through the maze of being young, broke and having energy to spare

Judi Frankland in one of the clerical cassocks from her degree show summer of 1980, pictured by Derek Ridgers. Style commentator Perry Haines, by Simon Brown

◼ LAST THURSDAY was as typical as any. At about the time 5,000 fans from Disco World were leaving The Crusaders concert at the Royal Albert Hall, 1980’s new London underground was coming to life. On the door of a Covent Garden club called Hell, Chris Sullivan, in monocle and Basque beret, and Judi Frankland, in the home-made clerical cassock that she’d worn in Bowie’s video for his chart topping Ashes to Ashes, were posing for an Italian magazine photographer. Inside, playing box-office and wearing his own modish Stephen Jones hat and all too visible makeup, sat the ubiquitous Steve Strange, 21, Hell being the twice-weekly off-shoot of his much reported Tuesdays at the nearby Blitz club. For him, he said, dressing up is a way of life. “I don’t do it to get attention.” . . . / Continued on our inside page

➢ Read on inside Shapers of the 80s:
A rich slice of London life in 1980 – one week, a dozen prodigies setting the town ablaze, none of them over 22

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1980 ➤ Mankind’s first taste of musical freedom

Sony, Stowaway,Walkman, Regine,1980, 1986, TCS-300, roller-skating

Sony Stowaway: the pioneering stereo cassette-player was launched in London at Regine’s nightclub. Headphones replaced speaker to make model TCS-300 light enough not only for jogging but also the burgeoning fad of roller-skating

‘Whaddaya mean, you’ve never been hang-gliding in headphones?’ To the Californian who recently delivered that crushing putdown while visiting London, the true Brit can now reply in the affirmative. This week, the Stowaway arrived in Britain, having already started crazes in Japan and America. Made by Sony and selling for around £99, it comprises lightweight headphones and a cassette machine the size of a small tranny which, as roller-skaters and parachutists have found, leaves the hands completely free. Consider the possibilities. [Source: On The Line, Evening Standard, April 24, 1980]

Update The no-frills Stowaway lacked a Dolby noise reduction system so in one bound it turned portable music into the pre-web equivalent of a rubbish P2P download direct to your ears. It has blessed public transport ever since. That summer, 1980, one of London’s rare Stowaways announced itself in the next seat to mine on a flight to St Tropez where for two weeks a then unknown British band called Spandau Ballet had brought the look and sound of Swinging London to the Papagayo nightclub. “Tss-tss-tss-tss” went the soundtrack to my trip from the next seat (with odd moments mercifully punctuated by the divine Chaka Khan’s “I wanna be naughty with you-oo-ooooo”).

In opposition to the Japanese-made name “Walkman”, invented for Sony’s home market, it was launched as the Soundabout in the US and as the Freestyle in Australia. Yet within three months, in the UK the Stowaway (cool, sexy name) had been rebranded the Walkman (dumb, dorky name). Somehow, the marketer’s S-curve inexplicably took sales to a million. By 1984 the price had plummeted to £30 and by 1986 the word Walkman was accepted into the Oxford English Dictionary

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1983 ➤ Showdown for Worlds End, Vivienne and Malcolm

The creator of this website, Shapers of the 80s, was photographing the runway in Paris on the day the King and Queen of Outrage realised the end was nigh. His backstage interviews provided scoops for the London Evening Standard and subsequently for The Face magazine, “style bible” of the 80s. Again and again, the emerging stars of the new decade observed that he was “always there”…

First published in the Evening Standard, Nov 4, 1983

First published in the Evening Standard, Nov 4, 1983

An Evening Standard exclusive breaks the news of an acrimonious power struggle that threatens to split the infamous couple who unleashed the punk revolution. Malcolm McLaren, manager of the pioneering punk-rock group the Sex Pistols, and Vivienne Westwood, the eccentric designer who clothed them, became King and Queen of Outrage overnight in 1976. Today they are daggers-drawn in a battle royal for control of their company, Worlds End, which has become the hottest name in avant-garde style.
➢➢ Click here to read on

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