It’s been quite a while since I last went digging in the Vauxhall crates down at Lassco, the leading ‘architectural salvage’ company based at the beautiful, beautiful Brunswick House.
My last visit was ahead of planning a house move. Oh the irony of buying and then lugging all the ‘architecturally salvaged’ goods over *there*, only to… plan once again ahead of an iminent house move to lug all the ‘architecturally salvaged’ goods a little close to home.
Wherever that might be right now.
But you just can’t do the VoHo [aha!] thing and ignore a model of Margaret Thatcher falling off a motorbike placed on top of the roof at one of London’s busiest transport interchanges.
Thatcher falling off a motorbike on a #Vauxhall roof. Possibly pic.twitter.com/jtxo8o0NB1
— Jason_Cobb (@Jason_Cobb) January 4, 2014
The ‘everything is for sale’ ethos at Lassco always intrigues me. Surely it is a matter of time before someone puts down a deposit on the beautiful old building itself, only to find that the challenging old architecture of the old Nine Elms Cold Store is soon to be outdone by the brutal new Bondway.
The proposed 'new' Bondway is a chuffing BRUTE http://t.co/SWXMNqcyQW URGH #Vauxhall
— Jason_Cobb (@Jason_Cobb) January 4, 2014
Nine Elms is changing - of that you can’t deny.
How wonderful then to find that Lassco still manages to capture something of the period, when life around SW8 wasn’t all about high rise clusters and developers wriggling out of social housing provision.
But before you start going all misty-eyed and eulogising about living in a 17th Century Grade II listed building, you’ll need the furniture first. You’ll also need a second mortgage to simply fit out the front room with a period piece settee and a set of fancy curtains.
Ouch.
My window shopping was more for a snoop around the garden section, with grandiose plans to re-create a period-piece Transpontine garden of delight in the patch of land that I have spent the best part of the past month digging up.
‘cos every Transpontine garden of delight needs an iron gate as an opening statement, Comrades.
Meanwhile the statues on sale at Lassco are slightly creepy. There’s a hint of a classic Roman nose, but the eyes suggest a rather late night bender under the arches at some of the more livelier clubs that VoHo is able to boast.
One man’s reclaimed iron railings is another man’s junk. This isn’t a photo of what I found buried away at the bottom of the patch of land that I have spent the best part of the past month digging up. The reality was a lot worse.
Plant pots meanwhile are ten-a-penny. Or even ten-a-pound.
Close, but no cigar, etc.
This rather fearsome lion / dog (?) may just do the job though in stopping coke cans, crisp packets and condoms from cluttering up the toil of my garden labour.
A month of working the land has left my left hip looking not unlike this ‘architecturally salvaged’ piece in need of some restoration.
Once inside Lassco and I have to confess to being slightly underwhelmed. A huge swathe of the old building has now been taken up by Brunswick House - the cafe which takes it’s name from the overall building.
Everything is still for sale as you eye up the very definite Voho menu. There is a slight unease however in not being able to afford to dine in the area, yet still wanting to poke your nose around at the salvaged goods that you undoubtedly won’t be able to afford either.
Which leaves not a lot of space within for the remainder of the retail floorspace.
London maps featured heavily, as did a musty set of seafaring reading material. I took an instant liking to a hanging rail of some classically cut gents coats.
“I’m terribly sorry Sir, but these are the coats as worn by our staff this morning.”
Whoops.
Not *everything* is for sale, then.
The main rooms aren’t exactly themed, leaving a post-modern feel to a house that most certainly doesn’t belong in this post-everything period.
Had the BEST "Where's the Victorian soap dish?" gag at Lassco earlier. Ha bloody ha.
— Jason_Cobb (@Jason_Cobb) January 4, 2014
A piss-poor ‘where’s the Victorian soap dish’ gag sank at almost the same speed as the seafaring reading material.
Still, any shopping experience that ends with a model of Margaret Thatcher falling off a motorbike on top of a Vauxhall roof has to be worth your time and effort.
The Lady’s not for turning, etc.