After studying together at the Royal College of Art, Marion Foale and Sally Tuffin set up their partnership with just 200 pounds in their pockets, but their boutique in Marlborough Court, off Carnaby Street, became a Mecca for Sixties fashionistas. One of their trademark pieces was the trouser suit, pioneered at a time when it was still unusual for women to wear trousers.

Foale and Tuffin - Made In England not only showcases their designs, but also recreates their boutique, showroom and studio, and is open from 11am to 6pm, Wednesday to Sunday, until 24th February 2010. For ticket prices and further information, please visit www.ftmlondon.org

The images on this page show Marion and Sally outside their boutique, designs for their first collection and Jenny Boyd modelling one of their outfits in 1966. They are reproduced from ‘Foale and Tuffin - The Sixties: A Decade In Fashion’, published by ACC Publishing Group.

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It is also currently housing ‘The Who: In The Beginning’, a collection of intimate photographs of the band taken by Colin Jones. Largely in black and white (the exception being a colourful session taken for an ‘Observer’ front cover), the shots show the band in unguarded moments, obviously at ease in Jones’ presence.

And so a sleepy-eyed Roger Daltrey lies snuggled in bed with the sheet music to ‘My Generation’ beside his pillow; John Entwistle sits on the floor in his Ealing home strumming, while his mum Queenie gets on with her sewing beside him; Keith Moon is captured with a rare serious face, as the band listen to a playback in the studio; and the young Pete Townshend looks permanently haunted – until he gets onstage and turns into a rock god.

With their lovely relaxed informality, this exhibition is a ‘must-see’ for all Who fans. But be quick – it closes on Sunday. For more information, please visit www.proud.co.uk

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It starts with the iconic photograph which propelled her to stardom, when, at the age of 16, a magazine editor sent her to have her hair styled at House of Leonard. Leonard asked photographer Barry Lategan to capture an image of the model with her new crop which he displayed in his salon. There, it was spotted by Deirdre McSharry, fashion editor of the ‘Daily Express’, who reproduced the photograph in her paper, dubbing Twiggy ‘The Face of ’66’ and effectively launching her career.

The exhibition charts Twiggy’s progress from gamine, Bambi-eyed teenager to a national treasure who is credited with turning around Marks & Spencer’s falling sales when she was recruited to their ad campaign a few years ago. Although she officially retired from fashion modelling in 1970 to focus on her acting and singing career, Twiggy returned to it in 1993 for a shoot for Italian ‘Vogue’ and there is no doubt that the camera loves her features; the black and white image in Garboesque pose taken by Mary McCartney in 1995 is ample proof that if anything, she has become more beautiful as she has matured.

There are images on display by well-known photographers such as Bryan Adams, Brian Aris and Annie Leibovitz, as well as reproductions of magazine covers and the 1973 sleeve of David Bowie’s ‘Pin Ups’ album, on which she features with the singer himself. Some of the images are supplied from Twiggy’s own archive and she has also written all the captions for the exhibition.

I would have loved to have seen more memorabilia – perhaps some of the clothes she’s worn during her modelling days – as well as more portraits (there must be thousands!) on display. This little exhibition offers a tantalising glimpse of her career, but does feel like a wasted opportunity. However, if you’re going to see ‘Beatles To Bowie’, it’s a free addition and well worth the walk upstairs.

‘Twiggy: A Life In Photographs’ runs until 21st March 2010. For more information, please visit: http://www.npg.org.uk/

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Duke Vin, Count Suckle & the Birth of Ska in Britain - trailer from AdamPellinDeeve on Vimeo.

‘Duke Vin, Count Suckle and the Birth of Ska’ is not only a fascinating documentary about musical development in the Sixties, but also captures an important piece of social history in the UK.

It tells the story of how the legendary Duke Vin and Count Suckle stowed away on a banana boat from Jamaica, arriving in the UK in 1954 as part of the Windrush generation.

Like many of those immigrants, they’d imagined that England would be a wealthy country, full of opportunity, but instead found it cold and still struggling with post-war privation.

“The country was dead,” says Vin. “We couldn’t find anywhere to dance!”

With the judicious use of vintage footage combined with contemporary interviews, the documentary tells the story of how the pair joined with others in making their own entertainment, first with house parties and then as these outgrew their premises, hiring town halls and charging on the door.

Duke Vin became a renowned D.J. with his unique collection of records which were not widely available in the UK, while Count Suckle took over the Roaring Twenties Club in Carnaby Street in 1962, where he would alternate a set of R’n’B discs with a live band.

The documentary traces how American music played Jamaica style evolved into ska and from there into reggae and Two Tone. It underlines the discrimination that the immigrants faced on arrival in the UK – Count Suckle narrowly escaped death during a petrol bombing incident in the Notting Hill race riots – but also shows how a love of the music brought all races together.

The documentary fizzles out slightly towards its end, but it concludes showing Duke Vin, now a pensioner but still working as a D.J., and still as much in love with the music as ever.

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The exhibition is laid out chronologically, so visitors can literally walk through the Sixties, and it’s interesting to note how photographic styles change as the decade progresses. To start with, the portraits look very stiff and formal with the stars suited and booted; any attempt at intimacy – such as Adam Faith snapped in his mother’s living- room – reveals a subject looking more self-conscious than relaxed.

However, by 1963, things were starting to loosen up. Although Cliff Richard and family still look rather awkward photographed in his newly purchased mansion, Fiona Adams took an iconic snap of the Beatles exuberantly leaping in the air on a derelict London bombsite which John Lennon subsequently chose for the cover of their EP, ‘Twist And Shout’. (Fiona, by the way, must have been the most envied girl of her generation, as she secured a job working for the popular teen magazine ‘Fabulous’!)

And by the latter end of the decade, photographers were starting to experiment with new techniques, to reflect the way in which artists were exploring new musical territories; Gered Mankowitz smeared Vaseline on his lens to take a hazy picture of the Rolling Stones, while Vic Singh used a prism to achieve a ‘fly eye’ effect on a portrait of Pink Floyd.

In addition to the wonderful photographs on display, there are also cabinets containing ephemera such as record sleeves and magazine articles from each decade, and Adel Rootstein mannequins sculpted to resemble Sixties’ top models like Patti Boyd and Twiggy sport contemporary outfits. One of my favourite exhibits, however, was the wall featuring Sixties’ portraits of the contributing photographers, showing how they themselves looked back in the day!

All round, ‘Beatles To Bowie’ is well worth a visit – or two. I’ll be returning for another look before the exhibition closes on 24th January 2010.

www.npg.org.uk

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Gene was very easy-going and friendly when he was offstage, but I remember how stringent he was to get things absolutely right onstage. His shows were always right on-the-nail and he was a complete, total, utter professional, in every sense of the word.

His backing band was the Mike Cotton Sound, who used to play trad jazz, but had evolved (as did many other such bands) into a more mainstream style. They were very professional, but you didn’t dare make any mistakes while Gene was working!

And he was so smart when he went onstage – knife-edge trouser creases and highly polished shoes. Of course, now that’s all dated, but in those days, it was what people expected in a cabaret club – you couldn’t get away with jeans or anything like that.

When Gene wasn’t working, he was the nicest guy in the world, so my overall experience with him was a good one and I was very sad to hear that he’d died a few years ago, virtually in harness.

I also worked with the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band, who were great, albeit a tad unpredictable! They had a weekly TV appearance on ‘Do Not Adjust Your Set’, a children’s programme that was watched by adults too, which helped to break them into the lucrative college and university circuit.

However, Jon Hiseman contacted me in April or May of that year, telling me he’d left John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers and was going to form his own band with Dick Heckstall-Smith and Tony Reeves, which was Colosseum. He was looking for someone to manage the group, which I did until they folded in November 1971. In that time, they became one of the first successful British jazz/rock groups, recorded three albums and toured extensively in the UK and Europe.

After Colossum split, I continued to work in the music industry; you can read about it on my website: http://colinrichardson.vox.com I’m currently editing a book about Jon Hiseman’s life as a musician, which has been written by a guy called Martyn Hanson. We’re 75 per cent of the way through now and the book will hopefully be published next year. Keep checking my website for announcements!

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She asked me to talk to Gerry about who was around and what they were like, but it soon became obvious that he thought he was interviewing me for the job! I said, “Gerry, I’m quite happy where I am,” and he said, “Would you be interested?” I said, “Well, what actually is it?” and he said, “General manager of the office.”

I thought that was quite a leg-up from what I was doing at Gunnells’, although I liked it there. Rik and John had a reputation and some of it was quite deserved, but generally, they were not as bad as they were painted – certainly not John. They were always out, doing stuff, and I used to go down the Bag O’Nails most nights. It was all very exciting, but kinda slightly edgy, and I’m not an edgy guy really, I’m quite cautious.

So I was often quite aware that I was living the lifestyle that I wasn’t really suited for, but I did find it exciting and the money was good. With all the bonuses, commissions and everything, I reckoned I was on about £3,000, which was a lot of money in those days!

But Gerry Bron had an incredibly good reputation. His father Sidney Bron had been a music publisher all his life and his sister was Eleanor Bron, the actress. Of course, I’d worked with Manfred before, I loved the Bonzos and Gene Pitney was a big star, so I thought this had to be a good move. I was also aware that Gerry was so different to the Gunnells in that his was a very efficient and well-run organisation. So I decided to make the move.

‘Beyond Biba: A Portrait of Barbara Hulanicki’ is a new documentary about Hulanicki’s life, charting not only the rise and fall of Biba, but her childhood in Palestine and what she did after the closure of the Kensington High Street store and the death of Fitz.

I went to a recent screening of the film at the Gate cinema in Notting Hill and it certainly stirred up great teenage memories of travelling up to London from Surrey with the wages I’d earned from my Saturday waitressing job clutched in my hot little hand, eager to find some bargains and just to wander round the gorgeous store, soaking up its hothouse vibe.

The documentary is exactly what it says – an account of Hulanicki’s life that doesn’t ask too many searching questions and alas, doesn’t show too much of the legendary Kensington High Street store. According to the director Louis Price, who was in attendance for a post-screening Q&A with Hulanicki, he could find very little archive footage of the shop – and what there was was dark and gloomy. “It was supposed to be like that!” interrupted Hulanicki, now an interior designer living in Miami, to much laughter, adding that at the time, she and Fitz thought it was rather “naff” to take photographs of each other at work.

However, it’s good to see the work and influence of this surprisingly modest designer finally put on record. When asked why a recent exhibition of her illustrations (featured in the film) wasn’t better publicised, she shrugs, “I didn’t think anyone would be interested…” and when it’s suggested that she puts out a general request for former Biba acolytes to lend their treasured clothes in order to stage a long-overdue retrospective exhibition at the V&A Museum, she responds, with genuine wonder, “Do you think they would?” I, for one, am willing to drag out the yellow satin Cossack-style blouse which still hangs in the back of my wardrobe – V&A, take note!

You can watch a trailer for ‘Beyond Biba’ here:

Beyond Biba Trailer from November Films on Vimeo.

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We were involved in the Stax tour with Otis Redding, Sam & Dave and Wilson Pickett at the Finsbury Park Astoria, which I think may have been a one-off gig that we booked from whoever brought them over, but I remember going to that show and it was a fantastic night. I think that whetted John and Rik Gunnell’s interest in bringing over more Americans.

Just about that time, Peter Green, John McVie and Mick Fleetwood had decided to break from John Mayall and form Fleetwood Mac, and I took on their datesheet. I remember going to their very first gig at City Hall Newcastle when they were supporting Little Stevie Wonder, as he was known at the time - he was fantastic.

Then the Gunnell brothers told me they were planning to bring in a lot of American stars and they wanted me to hand all my datesheets to another booker, a guy called Clifford Davis, which I did.

We brought a few Americans over – Albert King, Freddie King, Joe Tex and Junior Walker – and they all did well, but then one of them – maybe it was Joe Tex – was contracted to come over and pulled out at the last minute, so I think the brothers got disillusioned at that and maybe the profits from those American artists wasn’t as great as I’d thought.

Anyway, they decided they weren’t going to do that any more, at which point I asked for my datesheets back from Clifford Davis and I immediately noticed one was missing. I said, “Where’s Fleetwood Mac?” and he looked at me in a slightly odd way, saying, “I think you’ll find that they want to stay with me.”  The next thing I knew, he’d left the office and was managing Fleetwood Mac - and the rest is history!

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