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Hackney through the Looking-Glass

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As someone who is comfortable wearing contemporary attire, it is hard not to feel completely invisible when attending Broadway Market. Decorated by the capitalist toils of the British high street, I always develop an inferiority complex when walking amongst Hackney’s bohemian community. It is not just a place to sample Ghanaian pot lunches or vinyl Beatles records. The market is an artistic confederacy of educated individuals who choose to or instinctively diverge from the moneyed paths of middle-class employment. Or at least that is how it feels with layman eyes.

With its extravagant visual styles and fragrant riots of colour, art and music, Broadway Market is a place where every moment feels like an Instagram snap – a grainy artistic mirage dating from 1900-1969, where everything is re-lived in a post-modern era. Pop history has long since ended so all we can do is rewind, pause and live vicariously through the memories of others.

While there is a marked difference between what is genuinely old as oppose to say ‘retro’ – a ludicrous concept. Broadway Market feels more like a pastiche than a parody of the past, as its imitations and community spirit are warmly affectionate rather than mocking in tone. Likewise when I wander towards the nearby Columbia Road Flower Market, I again find myself succumbing to retail ordinariness in my everyday clothes. Even if I am just popping down to salvage scraps of hot street food and a chocolate brownie, there is an unnerving sense of invading a private party – one that I could never be invited to in real life.

Capturing the essence of this lifestyle difference is a gypsy-folk singer, Brooke Sharkey, who offers a window into another lifestyle, one more fanciful and beautiful than my own. She sings pure sweet bohemia and listening to her poetic voice accompanied by a large double bass and accordion, it is hard not to feel utterly banal in comparison. And while I would never ordinarily listen to gypsy-folk music at home, in the right setting, her songs are incredibly beautiful. Her ballad ‘May’ is a gorgeous elegiac lament and is especially moving when it is played on the market floor.

Evoking memories of a pre-war bohemian lifestyle, I can imagine her band holidaying in St Ives drinking gin and sage while indulging themselves on freshly caught scallops. A fanciful life perhaps and it is one that only seems possible on Broadway Market, which on examining the looking-glass, I can’t ever fit in but can always admire from afar. Lacking any starry-eyed garments, I remain an invisible figure in London Fields but it is wonderful to think that nomadic songwriters can survive without ever being coarsened by the demands of modern life.



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