The Southbank gets dolled up for a celebration of British style.
It's Vintage Festival weekend at the South Bank Centre, which means the once under-appreciated site on the bank of the Thames has become an all-singing, all-dancing exhibition of 20th century British cool. There's so much going on I don't know what to do with myself: the Royal Festival Hall has become my own personal Disneyland with a vintage marketplace, clubs and exhibitions all weekend. The main ballroom is a flurry of baggy trousers and lightning quick winkle-pickers hammering the dancefloor to Northern Soul, the underground car park is now 'The Warehouse' where pioneering British DJs recreate rave culture and the dawn of modern house in a fog of dry ice and lasers, and the balcony terrace is the Style Studio, where disco culture is played out in music overlooking the Thames.
The day is also sprinkled with catwalk shows displaying clothes from great periods in British culture, one of which is curated by famed '80s club kid and Lucien Freud model Sue Tilley, so as the clock strikes six I do my best Anna Wintour impression and take my seat at the front. Images of '80s club culture flash up on screens surrounding us, threaded together by the immortal image of Leigh Bowery as models begin to strut flamboyantly around the room dressed in original outfits from the time. For some of us it excellently portrays the continuing relevance of '80s club culture and the characters who created it, but there's an awful lot of blank faces in the crowd who would benefit from a more coherent introduction to the meaning behind each segment. If you're not already aware of Body Map, the rockabilly revival or Rachel Auburn, it probably makes no sense whatsoever. Besides that, it's all going well until she compares the fervently fashion-conscious football casuals with the modern day chav – I doubt many people in the audience know any different, but for those of us who do, she's way off the mark.
The decision to hold the 'Style Studio' – a homage to disco culture – on the fourth floor balcony overlooking the Thames is a masterstroke. Disco Deviance have the pleasure of playing as the sun sets almost directly opposite us over Charing Cross station, dropping Donna Summer's 'Sunset People' as the 100 strong crowd embrace in what I like to call a 'disco moment'. The tunes play on as the sun goes in, with Grace Jones being broadcast over London like a camp public service announcement – an image I'm glad to see in my lifetime. While a few people in afro wigs and fancy dress outfits completely misunderstand the concept of the festival, they seem to be having fun at least.
Downstairs in the Torch Club, couples of all ages waltz and foxtrot their way around the dancefloor, while a sharply dressed gent gives instructions to the wannabe Fred and Gingers. Seeing a younger generation engaging, perhaps for the first time, in something usually reserved for generations past is a perfect symbol of what the Vintage Festival represents. There's none of the sniggering irony which sometimes taints 'retro' events: everybody is fully appreciative of timeless style – whether they were there the first time round or not. To me this is the point the Vintage Festival succeeds in making: great style deserves not to be confined to the past. Aesthetics exist outside of linear time-scales, and while certain things may fall in and out of public taste, the truly stylish will always stand its ground.
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