Two friends planned an outing for me recently, which I enjoyed enormously. It brought to mind a phrase my mother used to use: “Warming the cockles of my heart.” The old-fashioned quaintness of that phrase is a fitting description for the adventure that I had.
It didn’t sound overly exciting—a visit to the Museum of Brands—but the story that the collection told about humanity had me beaming with unexpected pleasure.
In the 1960s, a young man called Robert Opie decided to collect labels, containers, magazines, toys, cloths, electrical goods—any objects that were part of domestic life. He started displaying his acquisitions in Gloucester, and then in London. Eventually in 2015, his collection moved to its present home in Notting Hill.
In the Museum of Brands, you can travel down a time tunnel, looking at everyday objects from the Victorian era to the present day. You can see our domestic behaviour and attitudes changing to adapt to the world outside, with its wars, and growing sophistication.
For instance, I was fascinated by the changing depictions of women, from the pretty, vulnerable Victorian ladies on chocolate boxes through the tough, be-trousered wartime lasses in the Land Girls magazine, onto the anything-goes fashion accessories and makeup of the modern woman.
The artistry that the collection demonstrates in the design, decoration and packaging of these everyday items shows how stunningly creative we humans are as a species. I rejected the offer of a wheelchair, as I still hesitate to move onto that stage in my ageing process—which was a mistake. Because there is so much to see, one needs plenty of time, and mobility, to absorb the thousands of beautiful, fascinating objects. I found it so comforting to see how we have continued to live happily and productively in the home and family, no matter what horrors were happening in the outside world. We have diligently found solutions to problems, and toiled to make life easier and richer, and more fun.
After about an hour, in which I only covered a fraction of the museum’s contents, I collapsed in the beautiful garden, with some food from the excellent café, feeling really excited by this mind-
bending place.
As I sat in the sun I had a sense of deja vu, a feeling of profound peace, which made my experience even more uplifting. On enquiry, I discovered I had visited the building in the 1980s. It is unrecognisable now, but it was known then as the London Lighthouse. It was founded during the horrific period when a strange, lethal illness struck down many of my friends and colleagues. When it was discovered that HIV and Aids mainly destroyed gay men, little effort was made to understand the plague that was killing people at a devastating rate. This building was developed into a refuge and hospice. It was also a centre of campaigning for research into the causes of this terrible illness, which eventually led to the discovery of treatment. I used to go and help in the making of poignant quilts that some of the men created to commemorate their lives. Despite the tragedy they lived, it was a building full of love and comfort.
The attitude of the public towards the sufferers changed when Princess Diana came to visit and was photographed holding their hands and cuddling them. She was brave and good.
Yes, people are brave and good. That building in Notting Hill is witness to that.
