Very little of the layout of central London was ever consciously planned - most of it just evolved. RegentStreet, underneath which the Bakerloo line runs, is a rare exception. Along with Portland Place (see yesterday) this was part of the processional route carved through the West End by John Nash for the benefit of the Prince Regent. How often the prince rode this way is not recorded, but Nash's broad boulevard soon became a fashionable magnet for the well-to-do of Georgian London. The very finest section of the road was the sweeping curve to the south - the Quadrant - whose shadowy colonnades were later removed to stop prostitutes gathering there after dark. Initially the two major road junctions at either end were called "Regent's Circus North" and "Regent's Circus South", but the need for clarity following the introduction of omnibus services caused conductors to rename them "Oxford Circus" and "Piccadilly Circus", and so they remain today. None of Nash's grand terraces still stand - the individual shops were too small for modern business needs so they were all demolished between 1902 and 1927. The replacement façades do still look pretty damned impressive, however [photo], and the street continues to take its heritage very seriously. Perhaps that's not surprising when the Crown is your landlord.
Walk down Regent Street today and what strikes you, apart from the grandeur, is the huge amount of scaffolding on show. In some parts of the street the majority of buildings appear to be boarded up, shielded behind poles and sheeting, while major reconstruction work takes place behind. Modern businesses have different needs to old, and some degree of rebuilding and inconvenience is needed while new retail outlets move in. It's all an illusion, though. The façades may stay intact but everything behind gets gutted - as you can see in this photo taken from Swallow Street, round the back of the main Regent Street curve. When the cranes finally move out and the new businesses and luxury penthouses move in, only a historical veneer will remain. So much of London's history, alas, is but skin deep.
Many of Regent Street's shops are world famous. Hamleys, for example, has to be the favourite destination for generations of toy-seeking children. It gets a bit crowded in there at weekends and school holidays, but you'll be glad to know that they still demonstrate pocket-money bubble-blowing machines and mini looping aeroplanes on the ground floor. Another traditional favourite is Liberty, its Tudor building constructed in 1924 from the timbers of two ships: HMS Impregnable and HMS Hindustan. Aquascutum and Austin Reed are also Regent Street staples, and there's a distinctly upmarket flavour to many of the other retailers here. Maybe that's why I've never properly appreciated this street - it's always seemed to be pitched somewhere over my head, more about excessive style than any sense of value. Not even the new AppleStore has encouraged me to change my mind. One recent Regent Street casualty was department store Dickins & Jones, closed for business in January after more than two centuries of trading. I hate to think who'll move in and replace it. After all, who now remembers Swan & Edgar at the foot of the street, closed in 1982 and now ignominiously replaced by a Virgin Megastore?
But one retail legend shows no sign of fading away. As long as I can remember there's been a bloke standing in Regent Street with a big arrowed sign saying GOLF SALE. I don't think it's been the same bloke every time, and the sign itself has also evolved (was yellow on black, now black on fluorescent yellow), but the campaign continues. Westminster Council tried to ban this board-borne advert a few years ago, but discovered that the relevant legislation didn't seem to extend to pavements and so the board remains. It's multiplied as well, with several feeder boards pointing towards the main sign pointing down Maddox Street. This isn't a sidestreet you'd otherwise choose to walk along, but on this occasion I thought I'd follow the pointing arrow to see what was there - something I've studiously avoided in the past (not least because I am so very definitely not a golfer). And there, just beyond the burger restaurant and the slightly rundown tanning salon, was the notorious Golf Sale. I was expecting more, perhaps, not just an ordinary shop with an array of golf bags and clubs lined up on the pavement. The big yellow sign at Oxford Circus may have read 'Walk In', but it seemed that nobody had. Two sales assistants stood chatting close to the door in a shop packed with golf equipment but no customers. I would have gone in, but I always feel very uncomfortable in any shop where the staff outnumber the visitors so I walked swiftly past and continued on my way. Even world renowned marketing campaigns, it seems, don't always deliver successful results.
Baker100 walk: Oxford Circus to Piccadilly Circus
Walk down Regent Street today and what strikes you, apart from the grandeur, is the huge amount of scaffolding on show. In some parts of the street the majority of buildings appear to be boarded up, shielded behind poles and sheeting, while major reconstruction work takes place behind. Modern businesses have different needs to old, and some degree of rebuilding and inconvenience is needed while new retail outlets move in. It's all an illusion, though. The façades may stay intact but everything behind gets gutted - as you can see in this photo taken from Swallow Street, round the back of the main Regent Street curve. When the cranes finally move out and the new businesses and luxury penthouses move in, only a historical veneer will remain. So much of London's history, alas, is but skin deep.
But one retail legend shows no sign of fading away. As long as I can remember there's been a bloke standing in Regent Street with a big arrowed sign saying GOLF SALE. I don't think it's been the same bloke every time, and the sign itself has also evolved (was yellow on black, now black on fluorescent yellow), but the campaign continues. Westminster Council tried to ban this board-borne advert a few years ago, but discovered that the relevant legislation didn't seem to extend to pavements and so the board remains. It's multiplied as well, with several feeder boards pointing towards the main sign pointing down Maddox Street. This isn't a sidestreet you'd otherwise choose to walk along, but on this occasion I thought I'd follow the pointing arrow to see what was there - something I've studiously avoided in the past (not least because I am so very definitely not a golfer). And there, just beyond the burger restaurant and the slightly rundown tanning salon, was the notorious Golf Sale. I was expecting more, perhaps, not just an ordinary shop with an array of golf bags and clubs lined up on the pavement. The big yellow sign at Oxford Circus may have read 'Walk In', but it seemed that nobody had. Two sales assistants stood chatting close to the door in a shop packed with golf equipment but no customers. I would have gone in, but I always feel very uncomfortable in any shop where the staff outnumber the visitors so I walked swiftly past and continued on my way. Even world renowned marketing campaigns, it seems, don't always deliver successful results.
