Daydreaming about an imagined past

I noticed a couple of girls walking through Birmingham city centre recently and to my surprise each proudly held a shiny, boxy, gold emblazoned Biba shopping bag (courtesy of the recent House of Fraser relaunch of the line). I felt a tad jealous for a minute, my soon to be husband nudging and cojoling me to ponder their exciting insides.

Of course I wondered what sheer delights the packages contained and then I paused to consider whether the feeling was truly jealousy (my bank balance is currently more red than shiny Biba black), or more-so my slight annoyance at the recent resurgence in popularity of my so long loved brand. You see, I rarely 'do' brands. I'm usually unimpressed and far too flighty to label love. I just do nameless, not generally extortionate, but fits the bill just so pretty things. I don't do trends. But since I was a baby of the tail end of the 70's, I do, oh how I do, do Biba.

For me, Biba has always been something of an iconic pillar of British fashion, but much more than that it is fantastical symbol of an imagined dreamy era of blackened windows whose insides are electric with realms of marble, mirrored glass and gilt, of young girls saving their wages for some platform rusty toned boots, of roof top champagne sipping if you were old enough and rich enough, of deafeningly cool Rolling Stones tunes permeating within the walls' constraints. This vision, I've always understood, was the all too short realised dream of it's founder, Barbara Hulanicki.

It bothers me, as i'm sure it does Ms Hulanicki, that this brand, this vision, this gold and black symbolism of a time that is no longer, has switched so many various hands and has landed, most recently, in a venue which for all intents and purposes undermines the very objective than made (and makes) Biba so very adored.  The type of teens who would have once grappled with various bits of affordable wine hued velvets can surely not afford the costs of Biba's latest guise.

Meanwhile Ms Hulanicki has offered her hand to a couple of lines at George. That's right, the Asda clothing line that can be found somewhere amid the Hovis and the Anchor butter. Cheap as chips no less. The designs however cannot be faulted, they are vividly Biba through and through; a monochromatic tessellated pattern here, a purple butterfly there. They have not attracted anything like the hype that a lushly leopard printed Daisy Lowe can attract for the new reincarnate, but they look at least true...they look Biba.

Alas, I haven't however bought anything from either range. You can fight with me over a well-worn bit of history on ebay though any time.