Hackney through the Looking-Glass

As someone who is comfortable wearing contemporary attire, it’s hard not to feel completely invisible at Broadway Market. Decorated by the capitalist toils of the British high street, I always develop an inferiority complex amongst Hackney’s bohemian community.

Broadway Market is not just a place to sample Ghanaian pot lunches or vinyl Beatles records. It’s an artistic confederacy of like-minded educated individuals, who choose too or instinctively diverge from the moneyed paths of middle-class employment, or at least that’s how it feels.

With its extravagant visual styles and fragrant riots of colour, 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 for post-modern audiences. Pop history has long 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 go to nearby Columbia Road Flower Market, I find myself once again succumbing to my everyday clothes. Even if I am just popping down to salvage scraps of hot street food, 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’s 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 vividly beautiful.

Evoking memories of a pre-war bohemian lifestyle, I can imagine her band holidaying in St Ives drinking gin and sage, while dining on freshly caught scallops. A fanciful life perhaps and it’s one that only seems possible on Broadway Market, which on examining the looking-glass, I will never obtain but can always admire from afar.

Lacking any starry-eyed garments of my own, I remain an invisible figure in London Fields, but it’s wonderful to think that songwriters such as Brooke Sharkey can survive without being coarsened by the demands of modern life.

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