Dark Thoughts on the Light House

48 Berwick St., London, W1 

lighthousesoho.com

 

 

I. 

 

To the Light House!

 

For Virginia Woolf, this phrase didn't merely reference a destination, but something intangible that keeps us believing in a brighter future [1]. For me, however, it means a trip into Soho and a first-time visit to Joe Corré's new venture on Berwick Street, six months after opening in September of last year. 

 

 

II.   

 

For readers who may not know, Corré is the 58-year-old son of Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McLaren. He is usually described in the press as an activist and businessman, though we might wish to reverse these terms for the sake of greater accuracy. 

 

In 1994, he established the lingerie store Agent Provocateur with his then wife Serena Rees, which they eventually sold to a private equity firm in 2007, for a sum of £60 million (later revealed to be a more than generous price). The following year Corré opened Child of the Jago, an independent boutique very much inspired by the retail outlets operated by his parents in the 1970s and '80s.  

 

In 2016, Corré controversially staged a protest which involved burning an estimated five million quids worth of Sex Pistols memorabilia on a barge on the River Thames [2]. 

 

And now, Corré is the proud owner of a lovingly restored Georgian townhouse that previously operated as a chandelier workshop [3]; thus the name of his new project (as far as I know, there's no Woolf-Westwood connection, even if the former inspired many fashion designers and once famously declared that, contrary to popular misconception, clothes wear us). 

 

 

III. 

 

It would not be fair - or indeed accurate - to describe the Light House as simply a retail outlet. 

 

For it functions as a multi-purpose fashion house, atelier, and members' bar and aims to provide a platform for independent designers known for "their creative aesthetic and high quality manufacture" [4], but who often struggle to find affordable retail space to rent in what remains of and passes for the real world. 

 

The Light House also intends to host exhibitions, talks, and other events; indeed, when I visited, an exhibition titled  'Vivienne Westwood: An Active Life' was just coming to a close [5]. 

 

All of which sounds great - and is great - and Joe is to be congratulated. The venue looks fantastic and, as a concept, the Light House is a brilliant idea. 

 

And let me add that the staff are amazing, too (give 'em a pay rise, Joe!).  

 

 

IV. 

 

However, a concern remains that the Light House is ultimately a space for an economic rather than a cultural elite to gather. To become a member, for example, requires one to cough up £950 per annum - which is quite a lot of money just to be able to access a tiny bar and mingle with a few other like-minded individuals. 

 

And of course, they will be like-minded; the terms and conditions governing membership (as well as the annual subscription fee) guarantee that. If one, out of curiosity, looks on the Light House website, one discovers that membership will be restricted to those artisans, craftspeople, designers, and individuals drawn from the creative industries who agree to conform to a set of house rules that govern not only how they behave, but what ideas to think and values to hold.

 

Members, for example, are not only made aware that loud and boorish behaviour will not be tolerated, but that they musn't discuss or promote any religious or politically extremist ideology. Members must also conform to an approved dress code; no jeans, no trainers, no tracksuits, no mass market fashion, or other unattractive attire. 

 

The management of the Light House also take a very dim view of drunkenness, lewdness, and aggressiveness. Members and/or their guests will be dealt with severely if they use abusive or inappropriate language, piss on the floor, or smoke in a non-designated area. The use of all mobile devices is also strictly prohibited.

 

And, finally, to ensure everyone follows the rules, members must also consent to use of CCTV and the storage of their personal data. A membership card - i.e., photographic ID - must also be carried and shown upon request by staff. I think that just about covers everything; the Hellfire Club it ain't and whilst Joe Corré may fancy himself as a bit of an 18th century dandy and sophisticated man about town, he's no Francis Dashwood ... 

 

 

V. 

  

Whilst Corré likes to be seen offering support to "those who challenge the norms today: punks, artists, activists, thinkers ..." [6] a high membership fee naturally filters the community by disposable income rather than purely by creative merit. This can risk turning a counter-cultural hub into a private lounge for the wealthy to larp as outsiders and rebels. 

 

And whilst Corré is right to say that Soho has been transformed since the 1980s from a gritty, artistic enclave to an area dominated by private members' clubs, one might suggest that as someone who commodifies the aesthetic of rebellion while operating within the same elite structures, he is himself contributing to the very gentrification of the area that he condemns [7]. 

 

When membership of a club is restricted to those who can afford it, the curiosity and conversation that Corré hopes to foster may lack the friction and diversity of thought found in truly public or more inclusive spaces. 

 

Ultimately, I'll leave it to readers to decide: is Joe a genuine 'punk' saviour and cultural 'terrorist', or is he merely a wealthy beneficiary of the system he criticises? Whilst fans of Westwood and defenders of the faith will love what he's doing, I'm sceptical to say the least ...

 

The Light House may be shining bright on Berwick Street, but for the freaks Corré claims to champion, the door remains firmly closed.  

 

 

Notes

 

[1] To the Lighthouse is novel by Virginia Woolf (Hogarth Press, 1927). It is arguably her best novel alongside Mrs Dalloway (1925), and widely considered a seminal work of modernist literature. 

 

[2] See 'Carri On Sex Pistols: Comments on the Case of Joe Corré and His Bonfire of Punk' (19 Dec 2016): click here.

      In this post, I argue that Corré's rather feeble (and belated) gesture was unnecessary; that his father working in collaboration with Jamie Reid had already alerted us in The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle to the fact that the Sex Pistols were fast becoming merely another brand name and that Bambi had already been butchered.

 

[3] Corré explains on the Light House website how he had been on the hunt for candlesticks for use in an art project, but ended up purchasing the entire building at 48 Berwick Street: click here. It seems that whilst you may or may not be able to buy happiness, you can certainly materialise your dreams when you have a significant sum in the bank: Lux ducit, sedpecuia eam realem facit ... 

      (I'm punning here on the Latin slogan used by the Light House: Lux me ducet - the light shall lead me forward. The phrase is often associated with the 19th century Italian writer Carlo Collodi, author of Pinocchio (1883), who adopted it as the motto for his magazine, Il Lampione. Along with other similar classical Latin phrases, it is commonly used to express inspiration, intellect, or spiritual guidance.)

 

[4] I'm quoting from the Showcase page on the Light House website: click here. 

 

[5] The month-long exhibition celebrated the life of the iconic visionary and activist Dame Vivienne Westwood. It was an interesting collaboration between the Vivienne Foundation, celebrity portrait photographer Ki Price, and life-long Westwood devotee, Steven Philip. Not only were limited edition prints of Price's pictures available, but Philip curated a sale of over a hundred vintage Westwood items drawn from his own collection. 

      For full details, see the Spotlight page on the Light House website: click here. 

 

[6] I'm quoting from the Showcase page on Child of the Jago on the Light House website: click here. 

 

[7] See, for example, his piece in The Standard titled 'My mother showed how fashion can bring light to dark days - it's a legacy I won't let die' (21 Feb 2026): click here. 

      Corré claims that once vibrant areas like Soho "have become sanitised and homogenised to the point where they resemble a shopping mall of zoned, soulless cubes of shite" and that his mission is to reverse the tide and "bring back the freaks". The Light House, he says, is a hub for people who love to dress up and discuss "artistic, intellectual and cultural ideas" - providing of course they pay their membership fees and respect the rules.  

In Memory of Gentleman Jack Sheppard

Jack Sheppard (1702 -1724)

Engraving by George White (1728) 

based on a portrait by James Thornhill (1724)

I.

I have to admit, I have reservations about memoralising the career of a petty criminal; such low-lives, always ducking and diving from the law, are rarely as charming in real life as we like to imagine them. Just ask the woman working at my local supermarket who was spat at and punched in the face last week after challenging a would-be shoplifter ...

Having said that, it would be churlish to deny the popular appeal of Jack Sheppard; a flash young tea leaf and audacious jailbreaker who captured the sympathy and affection of many a Londoner, both before and after his execution at Tyburn, aged 22, in November 1724.


II. 

Sheppard was an East End boy who decided he didn't want to be a carpenter, preferring instead to make his money from skullduggery. It was a fateful choice: Sheppard was arrested and imprisoned five times in 1724 - suggesting he was either very unlucky or pretty fuckin' feckless as a criminal - and although he managed to escape four times, by the end of the year he was swinging from the gallows.

However, his death at such a tender age only helped establish his legend. An autobiographical sketch - thought to have been ghostwritten by Daniel Defoe - sold like hot cakes at his execution and there followed several plays based upon it, much to the annoyance of the authorities who were concerned that impressionable young rascals keen to play Jack the Lad would attempt to copy his behaviour.* 

In some ways, Sheppard makes an unlikely role model. For not only was he useless at evading capture by the law, but he was also physically unimposing; small in size and lightly built, Sheppard had a pale complexion and suffered with a slight stutter.

However, these things were compensated for by a winning smile and a quick wit that made him popular with both sexes in the taverns of Drury Lane, such as the Black Lion, where he met his future partner in crime Joseph 'Blueskin' Blake and the buxom young brass Elizabeth Lyon (aka Edgeworth Bess), who became his regular mistress.   

From being a good, hardworking young man with career aspirations, Sheppard now threw himself enthusiastically into an illicit lifestyle of booze, whores, and criminal activity. Whilst he soon progressed to burglary and highway robbery, his first recorded theft was that of two silver spoons pinched from a tavern in Charing Cross, so hardly the crime of the century.

As indicated, however, it was his talent for breaking out of jail that really captured the popular imagination, including an escape from Newgate Prison where he was awaiting execution having been convicted of theft at the Old Bailey. Sheppard managed to remove an iron bar from his cell window, climb through the small gap, then calmly walk past the guards dressed in the women's clothing that accomplices had previously smuggled in.     

Although he was soon recaptured and returned to the his cell at Newgate, he was now visited by the great and the good who were all keen to see for themselves Gentleman Jack Sheppard. When guards found files and other tools hidden in his cell, he was transferred to what we would now describe as a high security unit, clapped in leg irons, and chained to the floor.

Cheekily informing his gaolers that these measures were not going to hold him, Sheppard even demonstrated how he might use a small nail to get free. He was rewarded for this by being bound with still heavier chains and handcuffed. Sheppard, however, continued to make light of his predicament and, astonishingly, he got away once more - still wearing his leg irons!

This miraculous escape so amazed everyone that the belief grew that Sheppard must have had the assistance of the Devil himself. Whether that's true or not, Sheppard's final stint of freedom was shortlived, if admittedly spent in some style; having broken into a pawnbrokers on Drury Lane, Sheppard helped himself to a black silk suit, several rings, and a wig in order to enjoy a night on the Town, posing as a dandy highwayman with a girl on each arm.

He was arrested, for the final time, on the morning of November 1st, still dressed in his stolen clobber and still very drunk.

III.

This time, the authorities took no chance. Sheppard was kept under constant guard and loaded down with 300lbs of iron weights. A petition, signed by several prominent people, asking that his death sentence be commuted was ignored. Offered the chance to have it reduced by informing on his associates, Sheppard, to his credit, refused to grass.

On November 16th, he was taken to the gallows at Tyburn to be hanged. A joyous procession accompanied him through the streets of London; crowds were said to have numbered 200,000 (one third of the population at that time). Hopes of a daring last minute escape were thwarted when prison guards found and confiscated a pen knife hidden about his person.

After Sheppard's body was cut down, the crowd pressed forward to stop its removal by the authorities. When his badly mauled corpse was finally retrieved, it was buried in the churchyard of St. Martin-in-the-Fields.

And thus ends the (really rather sorry) tale of Jack Sheppard ...

Though, as I say above, his posthumous legend has continued to grow. Sheppard now serves, for example, as a figure of inspiration for the punk fashion entrepreneur Joe Corré and his team at Child of the Jago: click here.

I mention this not because I particularly share Corré's sartorial sense or aesthetic vision - and I certainly don't subscribe to his (and his mother's) eco-political agenda - but for sentimental reasons (i.e., much the same sort of stupidity as those who champion Sheppard as a working-class hero or a potentially revolutionary figure of some kind).   

Notes

* Perhaps the best-known play that was at least partly based on Sheppard's life is John Gay's The Beggar's Opera (1728); Sheppard was the inspiration for the figure of Macheath.