Originally hunting fields for the monarchy.  Now a collection of streets separated by archways. Carnaby Street has, since it’s first boutique back in 1958, been the home turf for some of Britain’s best boutiques.

Number 22 Store, Carnaby Street, London.

I have always felt, being a student, the recession was something I could happily ignore. It would be gone far far before I entered the world of graduation. It has never really, left an after taste in my mouth, never directly affected my life or the bubble in which I live. That was of course, until I decided to take a little shopping trip down the legendary streets of Carnaby Street.

My favourite little boutique, can without a doubt, be passed by in the blink of an eye. It’s black and white exterior hardly makes the store pop amongst a glistening trail of multicoloured buildings and

Swear London Boots, Number 22

bright lights. Number 22 has served me to my hearts content over the years, shoes, jackets, jeans and even the occasional eye candy. Yet yesterday left me leaving the store with a fresh pair of boots, and a very sour taste resting on my tongue. The store looked emptier than usual, less of a range appeared to be sitting on the railings. In fact, there were no railings at all.

The stores manager explained to me their sales on clothes had simply not done them enough justice to justify them holding the stock. Shock. Horror. This boutique has suddenly turned into a horrifique! 22 now holds a range of shoes, and shoes only.

As long as the store remains open, continues to flourish (in shoe-ware of course) and does not break the illusion that Carnaby Street is untouchable in hard times I will keep the tears firmly behind my eyes.

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