The Albert Square matriarch, Peggy Mitchell, once told her former husband’s brother (with whom she was romantically involved) “I’m old East End. Proper. You don’t mess with me”. Seemingly, what she meant by being “old East End” was that she was to be feared, rather than approached by in-laws for sexual encounters.
This toughness is typical of the East End, an area which has a history like maybe no other region in London. In this column I intend to look at the relationship between the East End of old and new, looking at the changes and the stalwarts in landscape, residents and culture, focussing on one street or district in each article.
Vol. 2: Brick Lane – Immigration and Inebriation
Brick Lane
Running almost parallel – or as parallel streets in London can be – to Valance Road, the Bethnal Green street from which the Kray twins ran their criminal operations from in the late 1950s and the 1960s, Brick Lane (formerly Whitechapel Lane) is a microcosm of the multicultural Britain of the modern day that surrounds it. In today’s East End, Brick Lane serves as the truest representation of what the region as a whole is about. It has become an unlikely centre of cool and a formidable party street of the ilk of Dublin’s Temple Bar thanks to the success of venues such as Vibe Bar and the now-defunct 93 Feet East (more on that later) and a haven for all kinds of artistic and creative folk looking for an urban surrounding.
This enchanting street of ethnic diversity and revelry is as famous for its curry houses as Southall in the west, as hip as any part of Williamsburg, Brooklyn across the pond and as lively as any part of Camden Town on a Friday night to the north. The allure of Brick Lane – a narrow, Dickensian, Indic, urbane muddle of a street – is undeniable and its offshoot alleys leading to Spitalfields and Bethnal Green are a part of what is now almost a region in itself: ‘the Brick Lane area’.
The two main enduring identifiable aspects of culture that have run through this renowned street’s history are the two which have affected its topography more than any other: immigration and inebriation. From Ashkenazi Jews to Bengalis and from the Truman Brewery to MDMA, Brick Lane has always had the spirit of multiculturalism at its core and has always been a Mecca for those in a state of altered consciousness through substance use (legal or illegal).
Immigration
A rather obvious result of colonialism and The British Empire, immigration is as much a part of the history of Great Britain as Nelson, gin or prostitution. As such, Brick Lane, a constant representation of the country around it, has had a steady inward drift of immigrants from around the globe for centuries.
Indeed, the 17th century saw a wave of immigration from France with the Huguenots settling to supply a workforce for the burgeoning cloth and textile industry. During the 19 th century influxes of Irish and Ashkenazi Jew immigrants moved into the East End, and settled in particular on Brick Lane, also providing workers for the rag trade. Latterly, Brick Lane has seen many and various settlers from the Indian sub continent arrive through its thin passage, squeezing in Balti houses aplenty, the biggest contingency of these being from Bangladesh and Bengal.
Unsurprisingly, this constant swathe of émigrés has had some wonderful effects on the culture of Brick Lane and its surrounding streets, bringing a spectrum of vibrancy and life to the area others can only dream of. But it’s not all glorious. Monica Ali’s eponymous novel, which depicts a Brick Lane of forced marriage and subversive religiosity, holds the street under a different lantern to the one I have hitherto. It is undeniable that this street has been a burden for some, but less because of its existence and more because of its inhabitants. Nonetheless, the usual strains that immigration brings to its displaced settlers and the hellishness of forced control pervade Ali’s novel for a reason, and it would be wrong not to address them here even if the street does hold a certain mysticism and wonder to my Caucasian, male and rather fortunate mind.
Brick Lane has been the epicentre of Tower Hamlets, one of London’s traditionally poor and disadvantaged regions, throughout the years and thus its romanticism is tinged with a pungent, reeking underbelly of poverty and mistreatment. It has a dirty magic, then, redolent of a Springsteen lament such as ‘Tenth Avenue Freeze Out’ or a Betjeman diatribe on the English. It is the perfect representation of modern multiculturalism: a great exercise in variations of ethnicity bringing with them great degrees of life and interest, but also a worrying and, at times in its history, crime-ridden cesspool of failure.
Without immigration Brick Lane would not be Brick Lane, but merely another street in the web of carriageways that is London. It is so exciting and so mystical because of immigration, but it has a shady past which brings it romantic and inglorious streaks in equal measure.
Inebriation
Brick Lane now is where it’s at for bloggers, boutiques and Balti Houses commensurately. But of all of these alliterative nouns, Brick Lane’s affiliation with booze and the bacchanalian has subsisted longest and has made it a draw for the young and the restless of London, especially of recent.
Since a certain Joseph Truman decided to start brewing beer on the street in the 17 th century it has been synonymous with the consumption of inebriating substances and Brick Lane in the 21st Century has become the centre of a new revolution – the one which has seen the focus of London’s fashionistas and party animals look to the East End rather than the West End, Notting Hill or Camden. With this new found status has come an intriguing change in landscape for this street, bringing with it dwellers such as musicians, artists and writers and, as is usual when esoterica lands on an area’s pavements, narcotics and late night hotspots.
With Rough Trade opening a store, the likes of Banksy and Space Invader popping up with works of guerrilla street art and London’s hipster elite generally hanging out here over the last decade, Brick Lane has seen a sharp rise in its cool status. Thus, it has become a serious party street with serious party spots – Vibe Bar’s infamous summer all dayers complete with barbecues and debauchery have been a particular highlight.
The drug raid from police on 93 Feet East (across from Vibe Bar – both are, interestingly, part of the Truman Brewery Conversion) last year led to the famous venue, a stalwart on the Brick Lane party scene, to lose its licence and may have an effect on Brick Lane’s future as a ‘go-to’ place for revellers. The fact remains, though, that as long as Brick Lane is here it is likely that it will attract those enjoying all of the trappings of escapism and licentiousness of an evening.
A Decay Like No Other
Brick Lane is unique. Uniquely dirty, uniquely pretty and uniquely dreamy. Perhaps it is because of immigration and inebriation that walking through it feels like some far out LSD trip in a far and distant land, complete with smells, sounds and sights which invigorate and disgust anybody lucky enough to experience them. It is a concoction of culture and cultures that is unlike any other street in London and throughout its history it has been this way.
Brick Lane is a fortress, but one which welcomes invaders in with open arms and a beatific smile and once experienced it is the type of castle that one will keep visiting.
