Tag Archives: blog

50 Plus… and a chance meeting by David Collyer

I spent my teenage years in the South West of Surrey, pretty much equidistant between London and Brighton, and it was always one of those two places that called my friends and I when we needed a touch of metropolitan sophistication, or of course to strengthen our wardrobes. In my early twenties, London won and I moved there, the bright lights of the Big Smoke pulling me away from my leafy childhood home.

Brighton, however, always felt like a magical place. I visited often. My younger brother, a musician, moved there, and as many a musician does ended up working a side hustle. In his case, the cook in Hotel Pelirocco. I’d been an early 1980s mod revivalist, and of course with thoughts of Quadrophenia in mind, Brighton always felt like a pilgrimage.

Scroll forward almost 40 years and I’m now living in rural South Wales, dividing my work life between the NHS and as a photographer. Having not visited Brighton in almost twenty years, my partner and I decided to take a city break, staying in an AirBnB off Marine Parade, and catching up with one of my old London friends who has long since made the city his home. After a very pleasant meal my partner and I were strolling through The Lanes as the last light was fading, when I spotted a very dapper man in double-breasted cream linen suit, correspondent shoes, a wide brimmed hat at a rakish angle, and standout silver jewellery. I had a 1959 Leica M3 camera slung around my neck, and two frames left on a roll of black and white film. I had to photograph this man, although with the light quickly diminishing, it was touch and go whether any frame would be useable.

In 2017 when I turned 50, I started shooting a project called 50 Plus… The generation that didn’t have to grow up. It examines my generation of men and explores the freedoms that we have which weren’t available to our fathers’ generation. We are at liberty to cling on to our teenage subcultures and styles well into and beyond middle age. Always obsessed with clothes and music, I still consider myself a modernist. Since my initial re-visit to Brighton I’ve been back a handful of times. In 2023 I photographed the Mod Weekender for Detail Magazine, and as a result came away with a yearning to buy a scooter again, which I did, and it’s been ridden to Brighton a couple of times since. In many ways the photographic project was autobiographical. I have the luxury of holding down professional jobs whilst also indulging my inner teenage rebel. 

50 Plus… grew and grew, and on my 58th birthday in June, it was released by specialist documentary photography publisher Fistful of Books. I start the book with these words:

“As growing old is a privilege, so too is it a privilege of youth to rebel against the elder generation. Unlike when we were young, however, how do you shock the generation who have spent their lives rebelling? I’ve often said to my boys that the only way they could shock me is by playing golf and voting Conservative. Thankfully, as far as I’m aware, neither has experimented with such depravity!…

In the woods behind my house were the rusting remains of a Morris Oxford, and minus its wheels, the monocoque body of a long-trashed Vespa scooter. I used to sit on said scooter, and imagine I was riding to Brighton with my school’s equivalent of Jimmy the Mod’s on/off girlfriend Steph on the pillion. It’s safe to say, I wasn’t the Ace Face!”

50 Plus… is a hardback containing 84 portraits, over 156 pages. There is an essay by myself, a preface by an ex-pat British journalist now living and working in California, who published some of the photos in a magazine in 2022, and although the vast majority of portraits are anonymous, twelve of the men have been kind enough to write a testimony about themselves.

Fortunately the two shots of the dapper gent in The Lanes worked out, and he is one of those who kindly agreed to contribute. If you’re asking yourself why you are reading this in The West Hill Whistler, and you’ve not yet worked it out, that man was Jed Novick, editor of the title, and we’ve since become friends. Last time we met up we enjoyed a good Mexican meal and Margueritas on an early summer evening. Jed and Mike Baller who I photographed on a subsequent visit to Brighton are pictured here.

The book is available from the publisher Fistful of Books, or I have some copies for sale at £30 plus postage. Contact me through my website 

Editorial – Sept 2024

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?