The Fashion and Textile Museum's "The Biba Story 1964 - 1975" exhibition, currently in London and running until September 8th 2024, promises to unveil the phenomenon of Biba.
However, it feels a touch too restrictive for the vibrant story it aims to tell, leaving us acutely aware of the missed opportunities in the exhibition that could have provided a more comprehensive portrayal of Biba's legacy.
Biba wasn't just Barbara Hulanicki's brainchild; it was a glimpse of an exciting post-war and post-food stamp period that shaped a generation. The exhibition fails to capture the spirit by merely focusing on stating facts chronologically and only presenting the clothes outside their "shell" that made them magical. Biba was not a designer but an illustrator. Yet she was phenomenal at branding, and it's thanks to her that Brits could afford to be fashionable "the English way" without breaking the bank.
The exhibitions offer a glimpse of the kind of silhouettes and the colour palettes she favoured, yet they come short of her impact. Suppose you were to learn about Biba only by this display. In that case, you will come out with the knowledge that she started with a mail-to-order fashion brand that at some point went big in a short timeframe, that Brigitte Bardot wore a gingham dress she designed and that she had a fascination with Victoriana and the '20 & '30. The immense legacy that lives nowadays, from how people shop to how experimental design has become part and parcel of any shop floor that wants to leave the mark, or even just how to be a relevant brand at 360 degrees, is almost absent. And it's such a missed opportunity for new generations to learn about Biba and what she created.
Where are the tales of the sales assistants who personified the Biba ethos and helped launch the careers of fashion icons like Anna Wintour (who famously cut her teeth on the Biba shop floor)? And the budding rock stars and starlets that spent hours on the shop floors of the first boutiques and subsequently used the Flamingo Garden at the top floor of the shop in Kensington High Street as their music stage?
The exhibition also misses a crucial opportunity to explore the Biba's phenomenon beyond fashion. Hulanicki's pioneering approach to branding and experiential retail highlighted her understanding of the power of creating a complete lifestyle experience long before it became commonplace. It's tempting to wonder if the now-famous Anya Hindmarch food-themed collection (2012) or Chanel's supermarket show (2014) owe creative inspiration to the ground-breaking concepts pioneered at Big Biba. Not to mention the influence of the Big Biba restaurant - The Rainbow Room - echoed in London's Sketch's pink dining room (before it had a sad redecorating exercise) or the distinctive merchandise hall where patrons could buy everything branded Biba - an idea that Harrods has been piggybacking so much they are probably most recognised for.
Speaking of Big Biba, the seven-story embodiment of Hulanicki's branding and merchandising genius gets a curiously limited spotlight. Within the three rooms featuring the exhibitions where Biba's story "unfolds," this retail destination's accurate scale and impact are left almost unexplored. The meticulously curated floors, each a sensory experience, deserve more than a passing mention or some minimal acknowledgement in the form of a small cabinet of curiosities.
Each Big Biba floor had its personality to match the merchandise it had to display. Although the main rooms nodded to the previous boutiques, featuring dark colours and dim lights reminiscing of the Victorian era, they were also a glimpse of what the 'future' could look like. With innovative solutions and attention to detail, this' futuristic' look set a new standard for the shopping experience. Nothing was left to chance, and creative solutions, initially applied out of necessity, later became the norm and the mould for future department stores worldwide, such as disguising technical equipment, creating customised furniture that matched the vibes, and using communal changing rooms to optimise space.
Few might know, or even remember, that it was Biba and not Luciano Benetton - of the Benetton brand - in the late '60 who had the idea to produce a simple sweater and then decided to have it in all the colours of the rainbow creating a fun and eye-catching display. Benetton started its fashion business around 1965, the same period Biba began. London at the time was the Mecca for everything fresh and new, and everyone looking for inspiration visited the 'Swinging London '. It was a cultural and artistic innovation period, with London at the forefront of fashion, music, and youth culture. It's not impossible to think he might have 'borrowed' an idea or two from Biba.
Equally deserving of exploration is the genius of Biba's children's department – a Disneyland-inspired haven that defied the typical shopping experience for little ones. The ground-breaking food hall, which introduced British shoppers to exotic flavours and everyday items with a Pop Art twist, is another aspect that curators could have explored in more detail. The food hall not only expanded the culinary horizons of British shoppers but also introduced a new level of creativity and fun to the shopping experience. Using costume designers to create replicas of Heinz beans and Campbell soup cans for storage is a testament to Biba's innovative retail approach.
"The Biba Story 1964 -1975" offers a glimpse into a captivating world, but it feels like a peephole rather than a grand entrance. It misses the mark by neglecting the stories of the people who made Biba a phenomenon and failing to delve deeper into its revolutionary retail concepts, leaving the audience yearning for a deeper exploration.
It's also essential to acknowledge that Biba, for all its futurism, wasn't entirely without its flaws. While certainly ahead of its time in catering to Black women with a dedicated makeup line, the clothing itself adhered to a narrow beauty standard. The quintessential "Biba girl" was petite, with big eyes, sleek hair, impossibly long legs, and a lack of curves—a far cry from today's celebration of inclusivity.
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