A Place like home

Possibly my new favourite shop in the whole of London, A Child of the Jago opened my eyes into the fascinating world of menswear, antiques and strangely enough, warthogs. I rushed into the shop, 15 minutes before closing, the shop assistant, complete with 80’s style George Clooney moustache, reassured me that it was fine for me to wander around and chill out for as long as I wanted.

I glanced at Joe Corre as he wandered up the stairs, “Hey, you alright?” he smiled. I stood there thinking: Oh my god, your mother is Vivienne Westwood and you helped design some of the underwear worn by the sexist women in the world like Dita Von Teese. I tried to be nonchalant, whilst stumbling on the stairs.

Downstairs, I was greeted by a very large, stuffed warthog, staring at me with its beady eyes; it watched me as I wandered around the room. The antiques and obscure objects that were kept in the basement of A Child of the Jago left me confused and bedazzled. A leg of a Hell’s Angel. A blood-stained vest worn by a knight. Cabinets full of antique razors and combs. The shop and its contents are most definitely a place of wonder.