The best of Chelsea by the people who know - Cadogan

11 | INSIDER | Memories of the King’s Road
The Insider’s Guide
to memories of the
King’s Road
1950s
My first memory of Chelsea was spending
time in the family business, then a
rather Victorian drapery store selling
everything from household linens,
furnishing fabrics and haberdashery to
hats, gloves and gowns.
The staff, mostly women who were
dressed in black with white collars and
cuffs, were like family, and quite a few
really were relatives.
In 1953, aged six, I remember hanging
out of the window of 52 King's Road
watching the Queen and Prince Philip
riding by our shop (then called Sidney
Smith) opposite the Duke of York’s HQ in
an open-top car, with all the staff of local
shops – among others – waving and
cheering.
1960s-1970s
I hung out, occasionally dropped out and
worked in various jobs including the
shop at the weekends. The King’s Road
was the catwalk for the fashion subcultures
of youth – denim and leather,
beads and embroidery, prints and PVC,
all tailored to the mood of the moment.
By Hazel Smith, member of a
century-old King's Road family
business, currently trading as
the King’s Road Sporting Club.
Chair of the King’s Road Trade
Association, ex-flower child,
ex-policewoman, ex-professional
scuba diver, ex-maker of suede
and leather made-to-measure
clothes and belts, international
business consultant and writer
There were mods and rockers, flower
children and hippies, skinheads and
punks.
At one point, the pavement outside the
Duke of York’s HQ was strewn with
youths with jagged paintwork on their
faces, hair stuck up in coloured spikes,
tattooed knuckles and wearing ripped
clothes with silver studs – punks.
One of them, Dave, whose frizzed-up
‘afro’ hair was black on one side and red
on the other, soon began to organise
them. If a tourist looked as if they were
trying to take a photo, he would go up to
them and suggest a pose (for which he
got paid). If any of his mates turned up
with a less-than-perfect look – a floppy
mohican, for instance – he would send
them packing.
On September 20, 1973, an IRA bomb
went off at about 1am in the ground floor
garage of the Duke of York barracks
across the road from my flat. I was
reading in bed and was ‘sucked’ out
onto the floor. I looked out of the window,
saw what I thought were flames of my
burning building being reflected in the
windows opposite, and evacuated my
flatmates. We arrived in the street to
find that it was the now-windowless
barracks burning, and there were some
injured people who needed help.
About eight bombs went off in hearing
distance of my flat. The first caused
great concern. By the eighth, we looked
at one another and shrugged our shoulders
– if we had time to do that, then it
hadn’t hit us!
1974-1984
During this period I worked as a Special
Constable in Chelsea. On one occasion,
I was involved in the arrest of about
90 skinheads, who had been fighting
outside the Chelsea Potter pub.
It was bedlam in Chelsea Police
Station as we processed all those
arrested, and there were a few children
in the melee. I heard one eight-year-old
tell another: “If you don’t leave me alone,
I’ll tear your safety pin out.” The pin in
question was through the nose.
A few weeks later, one of the guys I
had processed came into the shop and
tried to chat me up. He kept saying he
knew me and I kept on telling him he
didn’t. Finally, exasperated, I told him
where we had met – he turned very pale
and backed out of the shop.
1970s-1990s
This was the era of the King’s Road
custom car cruise. Every Saturday, the
road would be full of noise and smoke
as the most fabulous customised cars,
lovingly turned out in all their unique
designs and splashes of shining colours,
would vroom and sometimes rattle and
jump up and down the road. A sight to
behold and mostly missed – the traffic
today would mean they would stand in
one place a lot longer.
1990-present
I enjoy sitting in a café (formerly Blushes,
now Caffé Concerto) people-watching.
For most of the past two decades, it has
been with my friend Branko Bokun, the
author, who I assisted with writing his
last three (of 30) books, notably his
memoirs, The Nomadic Humorist. The
people who stopped and talked to us
came from all walks of life and from
around the world.
I grew up and live in a street strewn
with familiar faces, from royals to music
and movie stars, entrepreneurs, politicians
and world leaders, much as it is
today. It is sometimes hard to remember
whether one knows the person or just
recognises their face from the media.
I have loved and love every bit of it, it’s
my home and place of work. One thing is
for sure – when I want to see someone
or they want to meet me, I have no
problem suggesting they come to me
rather than I go to them. In the words of
my lovely late mentor, Branko: “Why go
anywhere when you have arrived?”