Have you ever changed outfits in front of a mirror that mimics ancient Egypt, surrounded by cascades of leopard print? Or bought a pot of yoghurt that ‘moos’ as you pick it from the shelf? How about stopping for tea on a rooftop that is home to a flock of flamingos, or else wiled away the hours trying on cosmetics, amid mirrored cabinetry?
While this might sound like some form of retail fever-dream, it was a reality for those lucky enough to visit the shop Big Biba in the early 1970s. This seven-storey mecca on Kensington High Street was the brainchild of Barbara Hulanicki, the founder of the legendary brand. ‘I was never quite sure what came first, the clothing or the interiors,’ she recalled, when considering the legacy of the lifestyle phenomenon that she built in the midst of swinging London. For most, the name is synonymous with the shimmering logo of a Celtic knot, representing the slice of Art Nouveau decadence that Hulanicki brought to a label best known for its minute shift dresses and platform shoes.
Yet Biba was always much more than clothing. The designer sought to offer an all-enveloping world that put the wants, needs and fantasies of a new generation of young women at its heart. What began as a small mail-order clothing catalogue founded with her husband, Stephen Fitz-Simon, swiftly blossomed into a fully fledged lifestyle brand, culminating in the Big Biba that became the epicentre of all things cutting-edge cool. Customers could stroll through the doors and buy everything from lipstick and lingerie to light bulbs and baked beans – all bearing the company logo.
‘This was a complete look born out of Barbara’s very personal expression,’ says Martin Pel, curator of an exhibition at the Fashion and Textile Museum that celebrates the Biba legacy. ‘She breathed life into old buildings and took inspiration from their history. The first store was an old chemist’s, and she kept the crumbling painted façade. She filled the later Church Street store with Victorian woodwork and celebrated its Art Nouveau aesthetic,’ he adds.
Hulanicki embraced the past in a manner that set her apart from other trendsetters of the era. While the likes of Mary Quant and Pierre Cardin embodied a super-slick futuristic aesthetic, she turned to the glamour of 1930s film sets and the opulent imagery of Aubrey Beardsley, Gustav Klimt and Alphonse Mucha. Hers was a world of utter maximalism, which permeated every element of her stylish superstore.
The building’s understated Art Deco architecture, designed by Bernard George, proved the perfect foil for a world of jewel-like, dimly lit luxury (this was perhaps the first department store to favour a nightclub vibe of banging soundtracks and semi-darkness) with each floor taking a distinct personality. Steven Thomas – who co-authored the book Welcome to Big Biba, now republished as an anniversary edition – was entrusted with producing a seemingly endless stream of printed ephemera that included a different style for every department, alongside his partner, Tim Whitmore. "‘We decided to design a logo and typeface for every floor and specific area of the store, and with them, a letterhead, a gift voucher, swing tickets and cards. We wanted to go to that degree of detail - we must have been mad!" he says.
Whitmore and Thomas went on to work on multiple interior fit-outs, including enormous geometric counters festooned with feathers and an entire Pop Art-inspired food hall. It included giant Andy Warhol soup-can shelves and a dog-food display modelled on Hulanicki’s great dane, Othello. ‘There was no brief. When Barbara saw the idea, she thought it was fabulous. We were putting the fun back into food shopping,’ Thomas adds. This absolute fantasy was one of myriad concepts that could give any modern-day ‘immersive experience’ a run for its money. There was a tiny castle and super-sized toadstools in the children’s department; an enormous boudoir strewn with lingerie on the main fashion floor; and capsule living spaces including a ‘kitsch’ example featuring shag carpet, Tretchikoff-style paintings and epic numbers of animal ornaments. It was, to the mind of one New Yorker critic, akin to ‘Mae West’s broom closet’.
The madcap artistry of Big Biba was undoubtedly due to Hulanicki’s unwavering confidence in the creative coterie she fostered over the years. Lilli Anderson got a job in an earlier iteration of the store after donning a pair of monster platform heels (her first interview was unsuccessful as she was deemed too short) and eventually became the brand’s PR manager. She recalls working in the homewares department at Big Biba, where customers could lose themselves in a room dedicated entirely to cushions. ‘We’d often find people had fallen asleep in there come closing time,’ she says.
After a dedicated team of merchandisers working on the departmental displays failed to fully fathom Hulanicki’s concept, Lili’s forensic understanding of the company’s style meant she was put in charge. She fondly recalls the more-is-more approach, buying wallpaper to adorn her own home, which was sold in easy-to-hang sheets like wrapping paper. She also remembers advising customers who bought themed displays in their entirety in the quest for the ultimate Biba look. Such detail extended to the staff uniforms, with assistants on the cosmetics counters donning colour-blocked outfits together with coordinating makeup. ‘We all wore three sets of false eyelashes on our lids, and two underneath,’ she says.
Unlike other department stores, workers were forbidden to ask customers if they needed assistance, which fostered an atmosphere of absolute leisure that suited a young clientele looking to see and be seen. Unsurprisingly, the store played host to stars including Cilla Black, Mick Jagger and Paul McCartney, while hosting entertainments in the top-floor Rainbow Room, which was fully restored to its 1930s glory thanks to an eye-catching polychromatic ceiling.
Building the Biba world on such an epic scale was undoubtedly an enormous undertaking, and by 1975 the corporate side of the business (a major stake was owned by Dorothy Perkins) signed its death warrant. The fantasy was gradually pulled apart and auctioned off. Luckily, a number of pieces have been brought together again, with Anderson lending items inherited from a late friend and fellow former shop colleague to the exhibition. ‘It really was a wonderful place to work,’ she says. ‘Biba changed my life forever.’
‘The Biba Story, 1964–1975’ runs at the Fashion and Textile Museum 22 March–8 Sept. For more information, visit fashiontextilemuseum.org. Welcome to Big Biba, by Steven Thomas and Alwyn W. Turner, is published by ACC Art Books, rrp £22.
