A Visit to Gamages

Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.

 

Today however, we are east of Cavendish Mews: past the British Arts and Crafts institution of the Liberty Department Store on Regent Street, beyond the theatre district and the flower selling market of Covent Garden, past the Sir John Soane’s Museum*, just beyond Lincoln’s Inn Fields** in the London suburb of Holborn, the legal heart of London. It is Wednesday and is Edith’s half day off. She usually spends it with her best friend and fellow maid-of-all-work, Hilda, who lives just around the corner from Cavendish Mews in Hill Street, where she works for Lettice’s married friends, Margot and Dickie Channon in their rather chaotic home. Edith and Hilda spend their Wednesday afternoons together, pleasurably buying haberdashery, window shopping or taking tea. Yet, although it seems a little odd for them to be away from the main Oxford Street shopping precinct they usually frequent, today they have come to Gamages***, a department store located at 118 to 126 Holborn, near Holborn Circus****. Edith has dragged Hilda along, not because she wants anything in particular from Gamages - a department store she has never visited before - but because a fortnight ago, whilst visiting her home in Harlesden, Edith heard from her mother that Trixie, the girl who replaced Edith as the maid-of-all-work for Edith’s parents’ landlady Mrs, Hounslow, a mean spirited and selfish wealthy widow, has quit her post. Edith’s mother told her that Trixie has taken up a position as a sales girl at Gamages, which came as much of a shock to Edith as it did her mother, and old Mrs. Hounslow, who had to retreat to Bournemouth for her nerves. Trixie was always a quiet and mousy girl, and Edith finds it somewhat far-fetched that she could be the outgoing kind of character a successful sales girl needs to be.

 

As the two maids stand on the busy Holborn footpath, staring up at the impressive five storey edifice of Corinthian columns, classic pediments and balustrades and large windows glinting in the summer sunshine of a fine London summer’s day, they have to jostle for space as people crowd noisily around the full length ground floor plate glass windows advertising ‘ENORMOUS reductions OFF COST’, ‘OUTSTANDING offers’ and ‘DRASTIC reductions’, crammed full of every kind of product from hats and scarves to kitchen cabinets and portable gas cookers, the latter of which is proudly offered for half price at eleven shillings and ninepence. Around them, the vociferous collective chatter of shoppers mixes with the sound of noisy automobiles and chugging of the newly introduced enclosed double decker busses***** as they trundle along Holborn.

 

“What a mob!” mutters Hilda disparagingly as she stumbles backwards to avoid being in a collision with a matronly middle-class housewife with a steely look of determination as she pushes through the crowd of onlookers to get to Gamages doors.

 

“Don’t worry Hilda,” Edith says reassuringly, winding a comforting arm through her best friend’s. “I’m sure once we are inside, it will be far less chaotic.”

 

“I hope you’re right, Edith.” Hilda says with an unsure lilt in her voice as she stares at all the cloche clad heads of women of all ages jostling for space around the windows of the department store.

 

“Come on! Let’s go in.” Edith encourages, and without waiting for Hilda’s ascent, she drags her reluctant friend in the wake of the grim faced housewife towards Gamages’ double doors.

 

If either woman thought that they would find a haven of order, peace and tranquillity within the department store, such as their experiences in Selfridges’ hallowed halls, they were to be sorely disappointed. Just like the windows of Gamages, the store was stuffed floor to ceiling with every item you could possibly conceive: from cricket bats and golf clubs to a strong man’s leotard and Boy Scout uniforms. Since opening his modest hosiery business along Holborn in 1878, Mr. Arthur Gamage had slowly acquired the properties along the block between Leather Lane and Hatton Garden, expanding his store into each new building as he acquired it. This made shopping in Gamages a most unique experience for both maids. As they wended their way through the Motoring Department and the Hardware Department crowded with male shoppers, Edith and Hilda began to try navigating the store’s warren of spaces, none of which went to waste.

 

“This is disorienting!” exclaims Hilda as they step from a low ceilinged corridor lined with framed prints for sale into a lofty and light filled space with twelve foot ceilings filled with every conceivable piece of crockery imaginable in a myriad of patterns. “It’s like being lost in a maze.” She huffs uneasily as they squeeze past a couple of older housewives in Edwardian style toques and long coats with their arms laden with the burden of several Gamages paper shopping bags in each hand going in the opposite direction. “I don’t like mazes.”

 

“Oh, come on Hilda,” Edith encourages her best friend. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

 

“I left it at the door.” Hilda replies disparagingly.

 

“It seems to me, that this will be the kind where you find surprises around the corner.”

 

Edith pulls her friend towards another door across the crowded room of china, trying carefully to manoeuvre past a man carrying a tea chest aloft in front of him.

 

“As long as it’s a good surprise.” Hilda mutters.

 

The pair find themselves in another corridor crammed with shoppers moving in both directions, some with purchases and others empty handed. It is claustrophobic and the burble of vociferous voices only intensifies in the narrow space.

 

“Now I know what it is like to feel like a salmon going upstream.” Hilda grumbles as her neat brown felt hat is knocked askew on her head by the stray fronds of a palm fern in a jardinière carried by a woman in a brightly coloured summer frock moving in the opposite direction. Hilda gasps and looks agogo at the parlour palm as it disappears down the hallway.

 

“Apparently Gamages have a department for just about everything, Hilda” Edith says brightly. “They even have a Gardening Department.”

 

“Whatever next?” Hilda scoffs preposterously.

 

“Ahh! Now this is more like it!” Edith says as they exit the crowded corridor and find themselves in the Ladies Tailoring Department.

 

The more cavernous space, despite its size feels cosy and cocooning thanks to so many displays of ladies off the peg****** frocks, blouses, skirts, jerseys, coats and other outfits.

 

“Gosh!” Hilda gasps as they step up to one display of all white calf-length pleated frocks and short sleeved blouses on wooden mannequins. “Tennis dresses! Just like Suzanne Lenglen*******!”

 

“Ahh, now that’s what I need!” Edith enthuses as she spies a glass fronted counter on which sits a display of stockings.

 

Taking Hilda’s arm, the two best friends manoeuvre their way across the crowded department floor to the counter.

 

“I could do with a new pair of black stockings for afternoons at Cavendish Mews. I managed to get a ladder in my best pair the other week – goodness knows how – and I’ve had to mend them, which is such a tedious job.”

 

“This from the girl who makes her own frocks!” Hilda says with a laugh.

 

“Making frocks is enjoyable,” Edith replies, a frown clouding her face as she adds, “There is nothing enjoyable about darning socks or stockings.”

 

“Oh! These are artificial silk********,” Hilda opines with a smile as she looks at the box of Tailored Hose at the front of the display. The box features a drawing of an elegant lady in a fashionable green tubular frock with a train, her hair styled beautifully, standing with poise in a doorway. “So, they are more ladder resistant than ordinary stockings.”

 

Edith looks at her best friend with wide eyes, in undisguised surprise. Hilda has never been the most fashion conscious of people ever since she met her, in spite of Edith’s best efforts to change that. “How do you know that?”

 

“Because I’ve bought some, silly!” Hilda laughs. “They may be a bit pricier than standard stockings, but they are well worth it when you think how often you have to replace laddered pairs.”

 

“Or mend them.” Edith sighs as she looks at the display. She then returns her attention to her best friend. “You are full of surprises Hilda Clerkenwell!”

 

“No I’m not Edith,” Hilda says with a dismissive wave. “What on earth are you talking about? We all own stockings. There’s nothing surprising about that!”

 

“True Hilda, but since when are you interested in stockings and their merits for ladder resistance?”

 

“Ever since I discovered I don’t have to try and mend them as often. You know how awful I am when it comes to that. I’d rather fling them out and buy a new pair than mend a laddered pair if I can.”

 

Edith smiles indulgently and shakes her head at her friend.

 

“Touch them.” Hilda encourages Edith. “They feel like real silk stockings, even if they are made of that artificial stuff. You’d never know.”

 

Putting her handbag on the glass countertop, gingerly Edith holds out her glove clad fingers and rubs the heel of a stocking between her right-hand index and middle fingers and her thumb.

 

“You know, you should lash out and buy a pair of white ones for your wedding.” Hilda adds. “There would be nothing worse on your wedding day than to have a laddered stocking.”

 

Edith laughs in surprise. “Frank hasn’t even proposed yet!” she manages to say.

 

“There’s no harm in getting prepared for the big day early.” Hilda replies sagely, tapping her nose knowingly.

 

“What do you know that I don’t, Hilda Clerkenwell?” Edith asks suspiciously.

 

“Nothing Edith!” Hilda holds up her hands in defence, decrying her innocence. “Frank hasn’t said anything to me, and I doubt that he would anyway. I just know that he’ll propose as soon as is practicable.”

 

“Perhaps madam might care to take a pair,” says a soothing voice with a slightly familiar ring to Edith’s ears as a smartly dressed shop girl glides up towards Edith and Hilda from behind the shop counter.

 

“Oh!” Edith gasps, dropping the stocking from her hand, anxious that she has been caught handling the goods, and frightened that she will have to buy them now*********. “No thank you!”

 

“Oh, I’m sure they would suit you, Edith.” says the salesgirl with a cheeky laugh, which also sounds familiar to Edith. “And if you take off your gloves, you’ll find they feel so luxurious! Just like real silk stockings!”

 

Edith’s eyes grow wide with concern that the shop girl knows her name.

 

“Well… I… err…”

 

“Oh don’t worry Edith!” the shop girl says cheerfully with another titter. “It’s free to look these days you know, especially at Gamages – the People’s Popular Emporium**********!” She grins broadly at Edith, showing a slightly buck toothed smile.

 

Edith peers more closely at the shop girl’s face, lightly powdered with rouge on her cheeks and bright red lipstick on her full, upturned lips. Her face is framed by glossy chestnut coloured hair set in the latest fashion for Marcelled waves***********.

 

“Good heavens!” Edith gasps, her gloved hand rushing to her own unpainted pink lips. “Trixie? Is that really you?”

 

“Do you two know each other?” Hilda asks with a cocked eyebrow as she eyes the shop girl first and then looks quizzically at Edith.

 

“Yes Edith! It’s me! It’s Trixie!” the shop girl enthuses, clasping her hands together. “Reinvented as a Gamages shop girl!”

 

“My!” Edith says, shaking her head in amazement. “What a transformation! I’d scarcely recognise you!”

 

“Evidently.” Trixie remarks, pirouetting behind the counter to show off her smart black moiré shop assistant’s uniform with a simple white Peter Pan collar************. “Because you didn’t recognise me!” She laughs again. “Mind you, I scarcely recognise myself when I look in the mirror now, nor my life since I started working here.”

 

“I insisted on Hilda and I coming here, just in the off chance that I might see you, Trixie.”

 

“The news reached you then.” Trixie smiles smugly with satisfaction. “No more doing for old Widow Hounslow.”

 

“And not a moment too soon, if you ask me, Trixie! Yes, Mum told me a fortnight ago.”

 

“I bet you’d never have thought I’d have it in me, Edith,” Trixie replies, lowering her voice to a whisper, so that none of the customers milling closely around them browsing, or the other shop girls, can hear. “Sticking it up that miserable old cow.”

 

“Trixie!” Edith exclaims in surprise. She blushes, partly from Trixie’s directness about Mrs. Hounslow, the doughy old widow from Harlesden whom she used to work for and is the landlady to her parents, and partly at the admission she then makes. “Well, truth be told, no. I didn’t think you had it in you. You were always such a quiet little mouse as far as I remember.” She thinks about how her mother described Trixie as a something of a milksop***** when she told her Trixie’s news.

 

“Well,” Trixie says cheerfully, her stance emboldened as she folds her arms akimbo and beams with unbridled delight, her hazel eyes sparkling with life. “A mouse can frighten an elephant, so don’t underestimate me.” Shew winks cheekily at Edith.

 

Edith lets out a pent-up breath she didn’t realise she was holding, and smiles at Trixie, her pert nose crumpling up prettily as she does. “No, evidently you’re a mouse who can roar like a lion!”

 

“Sorry,” Hilda interrupts. “I’m failing to keep up, here.” She asks again. “Do you two know each other?”

 

“Oh Hilda!” Edith exclaims, looking shamefaced at her best friend. “I’m so sorry! Hilda, may I present Miss Trixie Bayliss.” she introduces. “Trixie, this is Miss Hilda Clerkenwell, my best friend whom I met at Mrs. Plaistow’s.”

 

“How do you do.” Hilda says, nodding curtly in polite acknowledgement of Trixie.

 

“How do you do.” Trixie acknowledges in friendly reply.

 

“Wasn’t that the maid’s position at the big terrace in Pimlico you left old Widow Hounslow’s for?” Trixie asks.

 

“Under-housemaid**************,” Edith corrects Trixie. “And yes, it was. Hilda and I were both under-housemaids together there. We shared a poky little attic room, but for all its spartan comforts and lack of heating, it helped us become the best friends we are today.”

 

“So, it wasn’t better than Mrs. Hounslow’s, then?” Trixie asks. Edith

 

“Oh, it was!” Edith assures her. She then goes on and admits, “But it wasn’t as rosy as the housekeeper painted it to be. It was pretty hard graft going up and down the stairs all day, fetching and carrying. And being lowly under-housemaids as we were, if we ever crossed paths with Mrs. Plaistow, we were expected to stop what we were doing, and turn our faces to the wall until she had passed***************.”

 

“It doesn’t sound much better than old Widow Hounslow’s.” Trixie remarks. “Really it doesn’t. At least she didn’t make us turn our faces to the wall when we crossed paths.”

 

“No, but food was more plentiful at Mrs. Plaistow’s than at old Widow Hounslow’s.”

 

“That wouldn’t be too hard!”

 

“And at least there were a couple of comfortable chairs in the servant’s hall that you could enjoy on your breaks.”

 

“If you could get to them.” Hilda interjects with a derisive snort and a roll of her eyes.

 

“At least it was heated,” Edith counters. “Which made it a nice place to sit and write to our families or read a book, even if you couldn’t manage to get one of the armchairs to sit in. Also having more staff meant that at least every chore to running a household wasn’t left solely to you to manage.”

 

“Well, that is something to be grateful for, Edith.”

 

“Anyway, we’ve both moved on from Mrs. Plaistow’s now. We’ve gone up in the world.”

 

“Have you indeed?”

 

“We have, Trixie! We both work as maids -of-all-work in Mayfair flats now. We’re quite close to each other, and get the same days off. Our employers are friends, and we both get the same char**************** to come and do the really hard graft around the place.” Edith smiles. “And we both no longer have to share a room with anyone else, and mine even has central heating!”

 

“Cor!” Trixie gasps. “Lucky you, Edith! I’m still without a fire, even now that I’m back at Mum’s house and not at old Widow Hounslow’s.”

 

“Trixie took over as the maid-of-all-work for old Widow Hounslow after I gave notice.” Edith explains to Hilda.

 

“Oh, I see.” Hilda replies, nodding in acknowledgment. “She sounds like she was a horrible mistress to work for, and that’s a fact.” she opines, scrunching up her nose in distaste, thinking of the old widow about whom she has only ever heard bad stories.

 

“She was.” Trixie agrees with Hilda with an emphatic nod. “Mean and miserly, and she worked you from sunup to sundown until you just about broke.”

 

“But here you are now,” Edith holds her hands out expansively and looks around her. “A shop girl at Gamages.”

 

“Oh yes. I was through with having to do for people like old Widow Hounslow as a lowly domestic.” Trixie replies. Then, realising that both Edith and Hilda are still employed as maids, she quickly adds, “Not that there’s anything wrong with being a domestic. It’s respectable work. But the pay and conditions are better here.”

 

“Conditions are improving for us too,” Edith counters, turning, smiling and nodding at Hilda, who nods back in return. “Or so my beau says.”

 

“Yes, I used to have quick chats with your mum, Edith, and find out all the gossip about you. He’s a grocer’s boy, isn’t he?”

 

“Yes, for now.” Edith says, smiling softly as she thinks fondly of her beau, Frank Leadbetter, the delivery boy and occasional window dresser of Mr. Willison’s Grocers in Mayfair. “Frank’s his name. Like you, he’s looking to work his way up in the world, and hopes to find a position managing his own grocery, or working for the London Trades Council***************** one day.”

 

“Yes, your mum said he was a bit of a supporter of workmen’s rights.” Trixie says.

 

“He is that.” Hilda says defensively. “At least someone is.”

 

“And he’s good to you, Edith?” Trixie asks, giving Edith an earnest look.

 

“Oh absolutely!” Edith assures her. “Frank’s ever such a lovely chap. He’s chivalrous and polite.”

 

“And he’s a bit of a looker too.” Hilda adds cheekily, making Trixie laugh.

 

“Hilda!” Edith gasps in shock.

 

“Your mum was taking about an engagement.” the shop girl says quickly to diffuse Edith’s surprise. “Are you hiding a ring under there?” Trixie nods at Edith’s glove clad hand.

 

“Oh!” Edith laughs nervously. “No! No!” She blushes crimson as she withdraws her left hand from the glove, revealing a naked hand, unadorned by a ring of any kind. “At least not yet.”

 

“But it will happen soon, Miss Bayliss.” Hilda pipes up quickly. “Frank’s just waiting for the right time to ask Edith.”

 

“Yes.” Edith nods with a warm smile. “Yes he is.”

 

“I was just saying to Edith that she should buy a pair of your artificial silk stockings for her wedding.”

 

“Oh you should, Edith!” Trixie enthuses, clasping her hands together. “Tailored Hose are ladder resistant you know, which means not as much in the way of daring and repairs. There’s nothing worse than worrying about a ladder in your stocking at the best of times, never mind on your wedding day.”

 

“See!” Hilda says triumphantly to her friend.

 

Trixie reaches out and takes the white imitation silk stocking delicately off the display and holds it out to Edith. “Feel how lovely and luxurious they are. You wouldn’t know they weren’t real silk, Edith. Honest, you wouldn’t!”

 

Edith gingerly reaches out her bare hand and feels the fine artificial silk as Trixie drapes it across her careworn palm. The sensation is like being ticked by a feather, or a light breeze. “It’s so soft!”

 

“I told you they are.” Trixie insists. “And they are only three shillings and sixpence, because Mr. Gamage buys them direct from the manufacturers in Poplar.”

 

“Well,” Edith says, milling over the idea as she rubs the delicate gossamer like fabric between her left thumb and index finger. “I’ll think about it.”

 

Trixie looks a little disappointed at Edith’s less than enthusiastic response to her sales pitch.

 

“Anyway, as I said. I brought Hilda here on the Tube to see if we might find you, Trixie, and now we have. How did all of this come about, then?”

 

“Well, I have a friend that works for the Zoological Department*****************, and she put in a good word for me in personnel. I was always good at sums at school, and I’ve been balancing old Widow Hounslow’s miserly budget perfectly ever since you left, so that helped.” She smiles and pats her hair. “And I’m appealing to the eye when I’m not dressed in a maid’s uniform and covered in smuts and cinders.”

 

“Indeed yes!” Edith remarks. “Your transformation is remarkable!”

 

“Here!” Trixie exclaims. “I could put a good word in at personnel once I pass my trial period, Edith. You’re pretty! I’m sure you could get a job here too! The staff amenities are ever so nice, and they have a library, an amateur dramatics group and a canteen. Mr. Gamage is ever such a nice man to work for. He always takes an interest in how things are going on the shop floor, and you often find him around and about looking at his stock and encouraging his staff. ‘Tall oaks from little acorns grow******************, Miss Bayliss.’ is what he said to me when I was first introduced to him by the head of personnel.”

 

“Miss Bayliss!” a stern sonorous male baritone interrupted Trixie’s wax lyrical about Gamages. “Miss Bayliss!”

 

“Of course, it’s not all a bed of roses here either.” Trixie mutters in a conspiratorial whisper to Edith before standing more rigidly in her place behind the glass topped and fronted cabinet full of trays of gloves on display.

 

A middle-aged man with wrinkles crinkling around his eyes, dressed snappily in a three-piece suit with his dark sandy blonde waves pomaded slickly against his scalp and a smartly waxed moustache above his thin lips, marches up to Trixie with purpose.

 

“Miss Bayliss,” he says lowering his voice, but speaking sternly to Trixie. “May I remind you that we are here to serve customers, and not chatter to them like this was a sewing circle.” he hisses in a terse reprimand peevishly. “Especially when,” He gives first Edith and then Hilda an appraising look. “They aren’t buying anything.”

 

“Oh, but they are, Mr. Fullarton!” Trixie says brightly, smiling cheerfully at her superior manager. “I was just having the loveliest conversation with Miss Watsford here, about her upcoming nuptials*******************. She is very worried about having ladders in her stockings on her wedding day, and I just extolled the virtues of Tailored Hose’s Rayon silk stockings, and how ladder resistant they are. She was so impressed that she has decided to buy a white pair,” She smiles hopefully at Edith, whose face betrays the surprise announcement made by Trixie in front of her supervisor. “And her friend and maid of honour, Miss Clerkenwell, is also going to buy a white pair for the wedding day.”

 

Hilda’s face, like Edith’s betrays her surprise at the words coming from the salesgirl’s mouth.

 

“That will be three and six each, ladies.” Trixie says with conviction, smiling bravely at them, her eyes pleading them both not to refuse her.

 

“Yes, yes of course!” Edith says a little shakily as she fumbles with trembling hands to open her green leather handbag and fetch out her black leather coin purse.

 

Hilda huffs, but remains silent as she does the same, withdrawing a pretty purse, beaded by her mother, who is an excellent embroiderer, from her brown leather handbag and fetches out the correct money.

 

“Oh! Well…” Mr. Fullarton blusters. “That’s alright then. My apologies ladies.” He nods his head in deference to Edith and Hilda. “In that case, I’ll leave you to your business.” And he scuttles away like a dog with his tail between his legs.

 

Trixie withdraws two boxes of white Tailored Hose stockings from the shallow drawers behind her and slips each into a paper bag emblazoned with A. W. Gamage Ltd, Holborn, London, EC on it in elegant black Edwardian block print. She extends her hand and politely accepts the three shillings and sixpence from each of her somewhat reluctant customers and opens the cash drawer of the sparkling and ornate brass till on the counter with a resounding ting of its bell after tallying the expenses on the machine’s keys.

 

“Will there be anything else, Miss Watsford, Miss Clerkenwell?” Trixie asks with a cheeky smile as she hands the bags across the counter to Edith and Hilda.

 

“Err no… thank you, Trixie.” Edith says with a faltering voice. “I think Hilda and I better leave you now, before you decide to sell us anything else. You certainly are good at your new job.”

 

“Well, thank you, and it was lovely to see you, Edith.” Trixie says beaming.

 

“It was lovely seeing you, Trixie, I think.” Edith says, before laughing good naturedly. “I’m glad to know that you are doing well, away from old Widow Hounslow.”

 

“And you, Edith. It sounds like you’ve fallen on your feet with your current employer.” Trixie turns her attentions to Hilda. “And it was a pleasure to meet you too, Miss Clerkenwell. You and Edith are welcome back at Gamages any day.”

 

Hilda rolls her eyes before giving the cheeky salesgirl a half smile. “Come on, Edith. Let’s be off before we are forced to part with any more of our hard earned wages.”

 

The two best friends turn their back on Trixie and wander away from the hosiery and millinery counter as they start to wend their way between other customers milling about and the displays of an endless array of accessories and haberdashery.

 

*Sir John Soane's Museum is a house museum, located next to Lincoln's Inn Fields in Holborn, London, which was formerly the home of neo-classical architect John Soane. It holds many drawings and architectural models of Soane's projects and a large collection of paintings, sculptures, drawings, and antiquities that he acquired over many years. The museum was established during Soane's lifetime by a private act of Parliament, Sir John Soane's Museum Act 1833, which took effect on his death in 1837. Soane engaged in this lengthy parliamentary campaign in order to disinherit his son, whom he disliked intensely. The act stipulated that on Soane's death, his house and collections would pass into the care of a board of trustees acting on behalf of the nation, and that they would be preserved as nearly as possible exactly in the state they were at his death. The museum's trustees remained completely independent, relying only on Soane's original endowment, until 1947. Since then, the museum has received an annual Grant-in-Aid from the British Government via the Department for Culture, Media and Sport. Only ninety visitors are allowed in the museum at a time.

 

**Lincoln's Inn Fields is located in Holborn and is the largest public square in London. It was laid out in the 1630s under the initiative of the speculative builder and contractor William Newton, "the first in a long series of entrepreneurs who took a hand in developing London", as Sir Nikolaus Pevsner observes. The original plan for "laying out and planting" these fields, drawn by the hand of Inigo Jones, was said still to be seen in Lord Pembroke's collection at Wilton House in the Nineteenth Century, but its location is now unknown. The West End grounds, which had remained private property, were acquired by London County Council in 1895 and opened to the public by its chairman, Sir John Hutton, the same year. The square is today managed by the London Borough of Camden and forms part of the southern boundary of that borough with the City of Westminster. Lincoln's Inn Fields takes its name from the adjacent Lincoln's Inn, of which the private gardens are separated from the Fields by a perimeter wall and a large gatehouse. The grassed area in the centre of the Fields contains a court for tennis and netball, and a bandstand. It was previously used for corporate events, which are no longer permitted. Cricket and other sports are thought to have been played here in the Eighteenth Century.

 

***Gamages began life in 1878 in a rented watch repair shop and, after quickly becoming a success amongst its customers, was established as a London institution. It was founded by Albert Walter Gamage, who soon bought out his partner, Frank Spain. In time it was to grow large enough to take up most of the block in which it was situated, it was unusual in that its premises were away from the main Oxford Street shopping area, being at 118–126 Holborn, close to Holborn Circus, on the edge of the City of London . Gamages also ran a successful mail-order business. Many of those who were children at the time remember Gamages because of its unparallelled stock of toys of the day, and the Gamages catalogue, which was a well-loved gift during the autumn, in time for Christmas present requests to be made. One of the store's main attractions was a large model railway which alternated between a day and night scene by the use of lighting. The railway was provided by a man called Bertram Otto who was German by birth. It received many thousands of visitors every Christmas. Gamages had many departments - a much larger number than modern department stores. There was a substantial hardware department on the ground floor which included specialist motor parts and car seat cover sections. There was a photographic department, and camping, pets, toys and sporting departments, the latter selling shotguns. The toy department was extensive and there were substantial fashion, furniture and carpeting departments and in latter years a small food supermarket. During World War I, Gamages manufactured the Leach trench catapult. Gamages was an extremely successful and profitable store. In 1968 a second store was opened in the Liberty Shopping Centre in Romford, Essex. This had a relatively short life as the whole company was taken over by Jeffrey Sterling's Sterling Guarantee Trust in 1970 and the Romford site was sold off to British Home Stores in 1971. The Holborn site closed in March 1972 and there is now no trace of the store to be seen. Gamages reopened in the old Waring and Gillows store in Oxford Street but this venture was short-lived and closed in 1972.

 

****Holborn Circus is a five-way junction at the western extreme of the City of London, specifically between Holborn (St Andrew) and its Hatton Garden (St Alban) part. It was designed by the engineer William Haywood and opened in 1867. The term circus describes how the frontages of the buildings facing curved round in a concave chamfer. Holborn Circus was described in Charles Dickens' Dictionary of London (1879) as "perhaps... the finest piece of street architecture in the City".

 

*****London first introduced enclosed-top double-decker buses in 1923. These buses were a significant advancement in public transportation compared to the previous open-top double-deckers, which had been in service since the late Nineteenth Century. The new enclosed buses provided better protection from the weather, making travel more comfortable for passengers, especially during the colder months. The AEC (Associated Equipment Company) open-top double-decker buses had been the norm for Londoners prior to the 1920s. However, with the growth of the city's population and increased demand for more reliable, year-round transportation, there was a shift towards enclosed buses, which could be operated more easily in all seasons. The first enclosed double-deckers were typically known as "motor buses" and came with a fully enclosed upper deck. This was also a response to changing design standards and the improvement of motorized vehicles, which by the 1920s were starting to replace horse-drawn buses entirely. This change marked the beginning of the modern London bus network, with these enclosed buses becoming a hallmark of London's public transport system for much of the Twentieth Century.

 

******Off the peg is a term used for clothing made in standard sizes and available from merchandise in stock. It is also known as ready-to-wear clothing.

 

*******Suzanne Rachel Flore Lenglen was a French tennis player. She was the inaugural world No. 1 from 1921 to 1926, winning eight Grand Slam titles in singles and twenty-one in total. She was also a four-time World Hard Court Champion in singles, and ten times in total. Lenglen redefined traditional women's tennis attire early in her career. By the 1919 Wimbledon final, she avoided donning a corset in favour of a short-sleeved blouse and calf-length pleated skirt to go along with a distinctive circular-brimmed bonnet, a stark contrast with her much older opponent Dorothea Lambert Chambers who wore long sleeves and a plain skirt below the calf.

 

********Artificial silk, now known as rayon, was invented in the late 1800s, with the first commercial production in 1889. French chemist Count Hilaire de Chardonnet is credited with its first successful commercialisation, showcasing his "artificial silk" fabrics at the Paris Exhibition in 1889. The term "rayon" was later coined in 1924 to replace "artificial silk".

 

 

*********Unlike America, the British did not “window shop” – nor did the salesperson expect the customer who entered the shop to leave without purchasing anything. Exchanges or returns were also frowned upon, as many unsuspecting Americans discovered when visiting London in the Victorian era or the early years of the Twentieth Century. Then Harry Gordon Selfridge appeared in London and opened his eponymous American style department store, and changed the British shopping experience forever. Soon his competitors had to follow suit and employ the same liberal ideas of window shopping, and abolishing their teams of odious shop walkers whose job it was to terrorise inattentive shop girls and always be at the customer’s elbow, murmuring, “Your next pleasure, madam?” Thus, by the 1920s, when this story is set, the shopping experience was quite different, with people free to not only look at, but touch and peruse the shop’s wares with no obligation to buy, and with free exchanges and returns.

 

**********Gamages, because it stocked so many items, and managed to sell things at a cheaper price than many of its competitors, due to Arthur Gamage making a habit of ordering directly from the manufacturer to “get the lowest figure for the customer”, it was known by the byline “the People’s Popular Emporium”.

 

***********Marcelling is a hair styling technique in which hot curling tongs are used to induce a curl into the hair. Its appearance was similar to that of a finger wave but it is created using a different method. Marcelled hair was a popular style for women's hair in the 1920s, often in conjunction with a bob cut. For those women who had longer hair, it was common to tie the hair at the nape of the neck and pin it above the ear with a stylish hair pin or flower. One famous wearer was American entertainer, Josephine Baker.

 

************A Peter Pan collar is a style of clothing collar, flat in design with rounded corners. It is named after the collar of Maude Adams's costume in her 1905 role as Peter Pan, although similar styles had been worn before this date. Peter Pan collars were particularly fashionable during the 1920s and 1930s.

 

*************In British slang, "milksop" refers to a weak or ineffectual youth, usually but not always, a male. It's a term used to describe someone who lacks courage, spirit, or determination.

 

**************An under-housemaid was a junior domestic worker in a large household, assisting the head housemaid or housekeeper with cleaning and other domestic tasks. They were typically younger and handled more physically demanding or less desirable jobs.

 

***************It was common in Victorian and Edwardian times, particularly in larger and grander houses, for a housemaid to turn her face to the wall when her master or mistress passed as a sign of respect or deference. This gesture was a way to acknowledge the social hierarchy and avoid direct eye contact with someone of higher social standing. It was a common practice and not necessarily a sign of fear or intimidation, but rather a customary display of politeness and subservience, recognising the master-servant relationship.

 

*************** A charwoman, chargirl, or char, jokingly charlady, is an old-fashioned occupational term, referring to a paid part-time worker who comes into a house or other building to clean it for a few hours of a day or week, as opposed to a maid, who usually lives as part of the household within the structure of domestic service. In the 1920s, chars usually did all the hard graft work that paid live-in domestics would no longer do as they looked for excuses to leave domestic service for better paying work in offices and factories.

 

*****************The London Trades Council was an early labour organisation, uniting London's trade unionists. Its modern successor organisation is the Greater London Association of Trades (Union) Councils.

 

*****************Gamages Zoological Department claimed to be the “largest and most complete in London”. As well as various breeds of dogs, cats, fish and canaries, you could buy more exotic pets like parrots, cockatoos, Grey Indian mongooses (commonly bought and popular for rat catching), porcupines, chimpanzees, English hedgehogs, alligators and over forty other species of reptiles, just to name a few!

 

******************‘Tall Oaks from Little Acorns Grow’ was the motto nailed above Arthur Gamage’s modest hosiery business when it opened in unfashionable Holborn in 1878, and he believed firmly in it – not just for his business which grew from measuring just five feet across to a street frontage that ran unbroken between Leather Lane and Hatton Garden – but for his staff as well, whom he encouraged to grow and develop, providing pleasant amenities and better working conditions than many of his contemporaries, like his most serious rival, Whiteley’s.

 

******************* Nuptials is a alternative word for marriage. The term “nuptials” emphasizes the ceremonial and legal aspects of a marriage, lending a more formal tone to wedding communications and documentation.

 

Although this display of ladies’ accessories and hats looks very real, the fact is that all the items on sale are all miniatures from my 1:12 miniatures collection.

 

The silk stockings in three different styles on display on the counter, and the wooden box upon which they are draped come from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House shop in the United Kingdom.

 

The Tailored Hose lisle stocking box sitting directly in front of the display come from Shepard’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom, who have a dizzying array of packaging pieces from the late 1800s to the 1970s.

 

The elbow length grey evening gloves on the glass top of the display counter are artisan pieces made of kid leather. I acquired these from a high street dolls house specialist when I was a teenager. Amazingly, they have never been lost in any of the moves that they have made over the years are still pristinely clean.

 

Contrary to popular belief, fashion at the beginning of the Roaring 20s did not feature the iconic cloche hat as a commonly worn head covering. Although invented by French milliner Caroline Reboux in 1908, the cloche hat did not start to gain popularity until 1922, so even by 1925 when this story is set, picture hats, a hangover from the pre-war years, were still not uncommon in society. Although nowhere near as wide, heavy, voluminous or as ornate as the hats worn by women between the turn of the Twentieth Century and the Great War, the picture hats of the 1920s were still wide brimmed, although they were generally made of straw or some lightweight fabric and were decorated with a more restrained touch. 1:12 size miniature hats made to such exacting standards of quality and realism as these are often far more expensive than real hats are. When you think that it would sit comfortably on the tip of your index finger, yet it could cost in excess of $150.00 or £100.00, it is an extravagance. American artists seem to have the monopoly on this skill and some of the hats that I have seen or acquired over the years are remarkable. Examples here include two from Mrs. Denton of Muffin Lodge in the United Kingdom, one from Falcon Miniatures in America and two more from America made by unknown artisans.

 

Edith’s handbag handmade from soft leather is part of a larger collection of hats and bags that I bought from an American miniature collector Marilyn Bickel.

 

The black umbrella came from an online stockist of 1:12 miniatures on E-Bay.

 

The bright brass cash register comes from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.

 

The wood and glass display cabinet I obtained from a seller of 1:12 miniatures on E-Bay.

 

The bright blue floral wallpaper in the background is in fact beautifully hand stencilled Japanese paper that was a gift to me.

Done