Brighton, Editorial, Zoot suit

Editorial – Sept 2024

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A long time ago, I was 14 maybe 15, I had a two tone suit. No, not two tone like The Specials, but proper two tone. Tonic, where the material is two different colour threads, cross weaved to create a beautiful shimmer. Tonic became popular with the original Mods and while I wasn’t that – I’m not that blimmin old – I loved the style. My suit was brown and blue tonic and was just beautiful. Later, I got married in a blown chalkstripe zoot, like Neal Cassady wore in On The Road. Still got that one

I’ve always loved suits. Always. Forties style, double breasted. Chalkstripe, not pinstripe. Louder the better. I was Bogart, now I’m more Melly. Sometimes though, standing out isn’t such a great thing. Not long ago, I was in That London on the tube. It was late. There was a group of four lads…

“Did you win, mate? Did you win?” one of them said, looking at his mates for the laugh. 

I just looked straight ahead. Didn’t engage. 

“The fancy dress competition mate. Did you win it?” he laughed, trying to up the ante. 

“No, I came second to some twat in high street jeans and trainers” I didn’t say, because while I’m well dressed, I’m not stupid. 

You don’t get that here. One of the things I love about being in Brighton is mostly I get “Dapper, mate” or maybe “Cool suit, fella”.  

I was thinking about this because there’s a shop in the ‘hood that sells clothes I haven’t got a clue about. I went past the hairy bikers shop and there’s a pair of mechanic’s overalls hanging in the window. What’s that about? I have no idea what that’s about. Is it a sales thing? Are you supposed  to buy them? Am I supposed to walk past and think “Mechanic’s overalls. That’s really cool. That’s what I want to look like”?  In fairness, I’m. guessing they’re vintage mechanic’s overalls. Maybe they’re selvedge mechanic’s overalls. We’re getting into some serious cloth now. Maybe it’s an aspiration thing. I wanna hang out where the guys in the mechanic’s overalls hang out. I have no idea. And you know what? I like that. I like that there’s stuff I just don’t understand. I’ve just had a rather spendid blue and white tartan linen suit made. Six button, double breasted, no vents. Proper. I’ve got a friend who’ll spend more on a pair of jeans than that suit cost to have made. A pair of jeans. I wouldn’t wash the car in a pair of jeans. OK, I don’t own a pair of jeans, but that’s detail. Curiously, the friend in question is also a biker. I make no judgement. 

Like I say, what I like about being here is that I can look really good and the bikers can dress on mechanic’s overalls and everyone’s happy. We all just get on with it. (I could get all Hallmark card and go off on one about how we’re a rainbow community, all different and yet all the same, but… let’s not). Actually it’s a bit odd because, in full disclosure, the bikers won’t talk to us. Their call. Different idea about community, I guess. Or maybe they do try to talk to us and we just can’t hear them over the very manly noise of their very manly bikes. (I never did get over my parents not getting me a Chopper)

Next to the mechanic’s overalls, there’s a lumberjack shirt. Can you imagine what the twat on the tube would say to that? 

Brighton Pavilion, Green Party, Sian Berry

Sian Berry – Sept 2024

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And just like that, my first month as the MP for Brighton Pavilion comes to a close! What a month it’s been — the whirlwind of the election feels like longer ago than just a few weeks. It’s been remarkable seeing Parliament up close as a newcomer. We all know its reputation as somewhere full of particular processes, rules and traditions, but it’s another thing experiencing them first-hand. Frustratingly, its timetable meant that there were only two weeks of action before Parliament broke up for recess. That feels at such odds with the urgency of the problems that we have in front of us. I was elected to hit the ground running, to take the city’s issues straight to the chamber. 

So that’s what I’ve done. Alongside my Green colleagues we brought the very first Early Day Motion of this Parliament, calling for urgent action to clean our seas and rivers by bringing water companies into public ownership. I spoke on the Government’s Rail Renationalisation bill, welcoming it as an important step forward but suggesting improvements to help it succeed and strengthen. 

Despite the election already feeling like a distant memory, the spirit of the campaign that I was part of here in Brighton Pavilion still feels so alive. While so many MPs may be happy just to campaign every time they need a vote, that just isn’t how Brighton or I operate. Brighton has a rich history of culture, activism and community; its MP cannot just be in Parliament, but has to be out and about in this city, living and breathing it. And I’ve been doing just that.

So I’ve joined activists from the ACORN tenants’ union, supporting their campaign to stop Brighton Council using bailiffs to collect council tax – a cruel practice that we know has a devastating impact on those affected. Groups like ACORN fill me with hope. I’ve always been a renter, and know all too well how helpless and disempowered you can feel having such a fundamental part of your life subject to someone else’s decisions. It’s always a wonderful feeling to be around people so committed to fighting for the rights of all renters.

I’ve also been out to sea, to visit our fleet of wind turbines and hear about the exciting plans to expand the wind farm, which would generate enough electricity to power the whole of Sussex. This community saw off fracking here in Sussex – and now we’re part of a real green future. That’s something I’m massively proud of.

And I went to Trans Pride! It was lovely to be back in such a joyful space, marching alongside Brighton & Hove’s Green councillors to call for respect and healthcare for the trans community who face horrific, dehumanising attacks. Ahead of trans pride, I wrote to the Health Secretary Wes Streeting to express my serious concerns about his statement on puberty blockers. I’ve heard so much pain and concern from young trans people, parents and doctors, and will keep up the pressure on this government to deliver vital trans healthcare. 

When I delivered my maiden speech in Parliament, it gave me the chance to reaffirm my commitment to something that’s been so important to me throughout my career – raising up the voices of young people. It was an honour to speak about the incredible work of Brighton and Hove Citizens, which had just won a huge campaigning victory in getting a commitment from the council for Brighton schools to benefit from investment in mental health support and counselling. 

In that speech I also talked about my pride in Brighton itself, a city I have fallen deeply in love with. We are a city of sanctuary, committed to a culture of hospitality and welcome for those seeking refuge from war and persecution; about the exciting counter-cultural movements that have called Brighton home; about the city’s place at the heart of the green movement. 

As its MP, I have the unique privilege of bringing both the needs and the spirit of Brighton to the House of Commons. I am determined to continue being present across our city, listening to our community and understanding what it needs, so I can take that to Parliament and be your voice.  

Thank you – to everyone who put their faith in me at the election and gave me the chance to speak up for our wonderful city in Parliament. I’ve had just a taste of how brilliant it’s going to be working with my constituents to stand up for Brighton and fight for a fairer, greener future both here and across the country – and I can’t wait to see what else this Parliament will bring. 

compost, gardening, Nancy Kirk

Gardening Corner with Nancy Kirk – May 2024

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Many of our properties in West Hill are Victorian or thereabouts and over the years, decades and centuries the soil has been enriched with all sorts of organic material. Many gardeners for the early part of the century would have incorporated vegetable peelings into the soil or sprinkled their borders with coal dust; one of my elderly clients regularly dusted the top of her lawn with coal dust claiming it kept the weeds at bay; I have no idea about the science of her decision, all I know is that her lawn was resplendent. 

Composting is a habit I gained in my 30’s when I moved from a flat into a house. I had tended to my communal garden in my flat, but all the decisions had to be made by all the freeholders, so the freedom to do as I pleased was new to me. Added to this, the local council was promoting it’s pledge to provide every garden in the borough with free composting bins. 

Getting a compost bin going to the hard part. It took years for me to work out a formula that worked for me. As my compost bins filled with grass clippings, prunings and raw vegetable waste I noticed nothing was happening, everything just sat there, belligerently not breaking down at all. I headed to the local library to mug up on the secrets of composting to find very little in the way of advice, but a visit to my father’s allotment answered all my questions and more. All the allotment folk had compost bins, and most importantly they had composters that worked and their owners were more than happy to show me the error of my ways.

Initially my new friends suspected I had plonked my compost bins on a hard standing, they explained that the worms need to be in contact with the soil; but I hadn’t broken this rule. Then they talked me through layering, and I was woefully guilty of this compost law. I would cut the grass and lob all the trimmings in one big heap, this was my first mistake. Thin layers of vegetable peelings, grass cuttings and pruned bits were required. Also my pruned bits and pieces were large branches of buddlejia, I needed to snip them down to hand sized pieces. The final rule surprised me, moisture. My bins were parched. As everything had dried out so much, just adding water was not going to cut it, as nothing would absorb the water quickly as it ran through to the soil. My solution was rather unpleasant but it really worked. I dug out a dusty old 1970’s blender which was hiding at the back of my kitchen cupboard and used it to store my vegetable peelings. When it was half full I would add water and blend the mixture to add it to the compost heap. The worms moved in and I never looked back. Once the internal temperature of the heap started to work there was no need for the blended mixture anymore. 

Here are the basic rules of thumb:

1.Always on soil, never on a hard standing

2.Think layers

3.Cut down pruned bits to hand size

4.Moisture. Try blending or mixing wet material with water to add to your heap

And the final hint I got for those wise allotment folk was male urine really helped get things going; I’m not going to publicly endorse such a thing because our gardens are so small. You didn’t hear it from me.

Composting is an art form. Every compost heap is different, but the pure gold it produces will continue to enrich our soil for the price of a small receptacle, so isn’t it worth a go?

Nancy Kirk is a gardener who provides bespoke gardening lessons in your own garden. Packages start at £250. Contact westhillgardenoracle@gmail.com for details 

Gull About Town

Gull About Town – May/June 2024

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It’s been a long winter in much sunnier climes for your Gull as the British rain proved just too much even for this feathered old bird. But as she returns to Brighton and takes flight across her favourite old paths from West Hill to the rich pickings of the beach, what a joy to find such a vibrant food buzz along the way.  

Once upon a time, Preston Street was almost too overwhelming for your Gull’s discerning beak with aromas of oyster sauce and sriracha fighting for favour. Only Bincho Yakitori, with its award-winning grills transporting us to the back streets of Tokyo, was worth the wait for the end of the night’s bin pick. So what a delight to return from the warmer coasts to a smorgasbord of flavour.

Your bird was thrilled to spot a young cocktail crowd, probably fresh from two weeks in Cancun, pop in for a Margherita and gasp instead at the queso beef cheek birria tacos with dipping broth and oyster mushroom tacos.  And the pleasure was not just on the plates. 

Halisco has ramped up its style since your bird first pecked on the windows, and is about to celebrate its seventh birthday with a much groovier vibe than when it was just a chicka. And with Michelin-starred Ian Swainson  now head chef in Halisco’s tiny kitchen, it’s going to be a glorious summer.

Just across the road, owners Mo and Ali Razavi’s Asian alter ego, Anakuma, launched last year as a tribute to their late mother Lindsay. It’s already a hit with this bird’s family favourite, Seagull winger Solly March who was one of the first to feast on its delicious small plates just weeks after opening.  The fried baby octopus with squid ink and pink pickled onion your Gull managed to scavenge sent her soaring. 

In a road dominated by Asian offerings, your Gull pottered down to Big Bowl for a Vietnamese ramen, which came highly rated from her feathered foodies. But the squawk on the street is all about the new fire and ice at No, No Please. This food-loving Gull has spent years fluttering around those good folk at Brighton Best which has been rating Brighton and Hove’s top 20 restaurants for the last decade. Now Euan MacDonald, one of its four founders, has launched his own Asian small plates and cocktail bar with sister Mel and Namo Eats’ Bookie, again in Preston Street. 

Your bird didn’t have to take flight once as she tottered down, belly already full, to peek in through the steamy windows on a Saturday night in late spring. Popping round the back for a peck of leftovers, half a larb roll, a filo cigar filled with spiced chicken, and an iconic sesame toast finger with salted boiled egg was all your Gull needed to know that this is very fine food indeed. And despite being a scavenger, she even spotted that there’s nothing on the menu over £10 a dish.

Finally, it was time to fly, and to rest her head at Drifter, the vinyl, sea and food bar from the original team at Due South. Regular readers of this column will know that the Gull is all about local, seasonal food, and Drifter has developed a mainly vegetarian, small plate menu with natural wines and cocktails that Brighton’s beach has been screeching for. Like your bird, this is about dropping in, having a plate and moving on. But not before chilling out and listening to some very cool sounds as the sun sets.

It’s good to be back.

Solifiore, Uncategorized

Heaven Scent

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Perfume correspondent Ceri Barnes Thompson goes to Solifiore and finds out perfume isn’t just about smell, it’s the door to memory 

“There’s no-one you can’t talk about perfume with”, said Sarah when I went to visit her in Soliflore, her lovely new Seven Dials store. It was a beautiful crisp early spring day, the deep green of the shop front vibrant in the sunshine, the original glass of the huge old windows sparkling like the little scent bottles sitting behind them.

Soliflore opened on Bonfire Night after Sarah completed a full renovation of the old premises. Peeling back the layers at the start of the shop-fit, the original dark green tiles of the original grocers shop of decades before were uncovered and her graphic design eye spotted the inspiration for the colour that is the trademark of the new shop. 

You could say a perfume store is indulgent in a cost of living crisis. But is it really? Perfume offers up connection to our stories and our memories. The name ‘Soliflore’ represents the idea of a single floral aroma – a fragrance built around one particular flower but which delivers different layers of meaning and interpretation depending on who is smelling it. As Sarah says, you can smell a particular scent and you are taken without thinking back to a place in time, the Proustian rush effect. For me it’s sitting on the bath watching my Mum get ready to go out, the smell of her Balmain perfume “Vent Vert’’ just about beating the smell of Elnet hairspray. 

Her mother, Mimi, owned an art gallery when Sarah was little and memories of those times which shaped her love of conversation and connection have her taking it all in, watching and listening. Then at home, evenings and weekends brought buyers and sellers to their house, artists bringing pictures, negotiations, joyful chatter soaked up. Mimi was mesmerizing to little Sarah. With her purple eyeshadow and Clinique’s “Aromatics Elixir” wafting in her wake she held a room. But it didn’t stop there – Mimi’s bathroom cabinet was a treasure trove of bottles and boxes which Sarah would open and marvel at, picking up and holding the lovely vessels imagining herself as a grown up, groomed, sophisticated, smelling amazing.

Having her own shop was always Sarah’s dream but she opted for a ‘proper job’. Finding herself gazing out from her office to St Martin’s School of Art realising she really didn’t belong behind a computer with spreadsheets. Retraining as a graphic designer, she worked in live music for a while and then took a job as a stylist for Body Shop. When the pandemic hit, Sarah contracted long covid and returning to work after four months, she realised that something had shifted in her and she no longer had the tolerance for creating by committee. A good friend encouraged her to leave: “Jump and the net will catch you!” he said, so she did.

 Free as a bird and casting around for ideas a friend asked her to do Christmas cover at the perfumiers, Jo Malone. Years before, her very first boss had gifted her a bottle of ‘White Jasmine and Mint’’ and she remembered the joy of having that in her hand-bag. So she took the temporary job and found her happy place. She would stand on the shop floor surrounded by scents she knew the layers and detail of and enjoyed every minute of her working life. And she was very good at it. 

‘’It was never selling, it was a conversation’’ she says now, standing on her very own shop floor. And that’s the experience of anyone entering her space. I first visited just as she’d opened and left 20 minutes later having talked non-stop about the memories conjured up as you open each of the beautifully creative scent tins on the counter that contain scraps of silk to carry the perfumes for you to smell before trying on your skin. One of them stopped me in my tracks and took me straight to my mum; fresh green grass and freesias. Sarah talks about people moved to tears sometimes by the scent memories conjured up there. 

I

 thought I’d try out a theory about people’s perfume memories, asking friends whether they could remember what their parents wore when they were little. The replies flooded in -‘Anais Anais’ in that little white bottle, ‘Miss Dior’ ‘Number 5’ ‘White Musk’ ‘Charlie’ “Tramp’ ‘Rive Gauche!’ in the black and blue metal case and of course ‘Old Spice’, ‘Brute’ and ‘Aramis’. Funny stories too rolled past – one friends mum stopped wearing a scent when she found out Margaret Thatcher also wore it.

Perfume for Sarah is an essential piece of getting dressed so that whilst Chanel’s “No5” is ever present for her, she’ll curate the layers on top of that depending on how she wants to show up in the world. Perfume can change your mood, she says, just like a song but it can also effect how you’re perceived in the world – you can, depending on the scents you wear, reflect your sophisticated, playful, complex, refined sides. 

Sarah wishes she’d known years ago the level of work and dedication that independent shop keepers devote to their businesses as she’d probably never have bothered with a single chain store in her life. “I’m the tester, the buyer, the designer, the financial manager, the seller, the cleaner, the social media strategist, the future planner, the negotiator with the council, the publicist. But I wouldn’t have it any other way”. 

She has great plans for the little shop. She tried over 400 scents before stocking it with small batch perfumes – often in smaller sizes and more affordable because she believes we need ‘perfume wardrobes’ giving us a choice depending on how the spirit moves us. She sells hand-made stationary too from local artists, another of her passions. Sarah’s determined that Soliflore will be part of the heart-beat of the local community that she loves. She’s created ‘Soliflore Social’ to offer events for local people to get involved, gather and enjoy. Scented hot chocolate nights as well as visiting perfumers who will share their knowledge and passion. Like she said everyone has a story about a scent, it’s part of our connection to each-other and to our world. And these little independent stores offer us a warm welcome with that at their very heart. I for one won’t be going to Boots for my perfume. 

Soliflore, 64 Dyke Road BN1 3JD

Everything you ever wanted to know about life in Brighton (OK, and Hove)