Somewhere famous: Hoxton There are two Hoxtons. One is the über-cool epicentre of hipness, circa 1996, home to artists, blaggers and the generally trendy. And the other is a piss-poor neighbourhood of rundown hovels, home to pensioners, mums in trackies and families scraping below the poverty line. I visited both.
Hip Hoxton is, or was, based around Hoxton Square. The area's long been known for culture and hedonism, ever since Richard Burbage opened his Theatre just outside the City boundaries more than 400 years ago. Faddish bars (and Banksy murals) have grown up along Curtain Road to entertain today's party-goers, with just a well-hidden plaque to mark the site of Shakespeare's East End debut. Head north across narrow twisting Old Street, go round the back of the once-great 333, walk past the chic restaurants and trainer emporia, and you'll find yourself in Hoxton Square. Unfortunately half past ten on a sleety Saturday morning wasn't the best time to see this area at its best. The square's central grassy lawn stood empty. Lonely waitresses could be seen rearranging the tables inside various glass-fronted eateries. A Hackney dustcart circled the square collecting the detritus of Friday night's drinking session. But at least the White Cube gallery (pictured) was already open, welcoming the occasional early-rising couple to its intimate (for which read 'tiny') exhibition space. It was all too quiet, a hint that the square's heyday has undoubtedly passed, although few other Hackney backwaters can claim to have launched a finny haircut and an artistic movement.
Hovel Hoxton lies only a few hundred yards to the north. No self-respecting trendsetter would be seen dead here, queueing for benefits in the post office, buying brightly-coloured plastic brooms in the pound shop or popping into the bookies to put two quid down on a better future. This is Hoxton Street, an underprivileged artery hemmed in between tightly-packed council blocks, where Tracey Emin's work remains either unknown or out of reach. Saturday's street market attracts only locals, rifling through trays of cheap garments for something unfashionable but inexpensive, or haggling for a few pence off a bag of fake cleaning products, or buying non-label trainers from the hoop-earringed girl sat on an upturned crate. Poverty is not a new problem round here - indeed, one of today's market stalls was set out in front of the elegant facade of Shoreditch's 1863 'Offices For The Relief Of The Poor'. But it's a stark reminder that Hackney remains one of the very poorest boroughs in the country, no matter how many NathanBarley wannabes neck vodkas and pop pills in one small atypical corner. by tube: Old Street by bus: 55, 243, 394
Hip Hoxton is, or was, based around Hoxton Square. The area's long been known for culture and hedonism, ever since Richard Burbage opened his Theatre just outside the City boundaries more than 400 years ago. Faddish bars (and Banksy murals) have grown up along Curtain Road to entertain today's party-goers, with just a well-hidden plaque to mark the site of Shakespeare's East End debut. Head north across narrow twisting Old Street, go round the back of the once-great 333, walk past the chic restaurants and trainer emporia, and you'll find yourself in Hoxton Square. Unfortunately half past ten on a sleety Saturday morning wasn't the best time to see this area at its best. The square's central grassy lawn stood empty. Lonely waitresses could be seen rearranging the tables inside various glass-fronted eateries. A Hackney dustcart circled the square collecting the detritus of Friday night's drinking session. But at least the White Cube gallery (pictured) was already open, welcoming the occasional early-rising couple to its intimate (for which read 'tiny') exhibition space. It was all too quiet, a hint that the square's heyday has undoubtedly passed, although few other Hackney backwaters can claim to have launched a finny haircut and an artistic movement.
Hip Hoxton is, or was, based around Hoxton Square. The area's long been known for culture and hedonism, ever since Richard Burbage opened his 