The bits that Habitat sold off cheap ……..

I belong to that generation which shopped at  Habitat.

It meant style, exciting designs, and a way of living which marked you off from what your parents liked.

Added to which during its early years, Habitat was relatively cheap, allowing you to fill your first home with innovative furniture, bold light fittings, a range of kitchen stuff and some “quirky other things”.

And even on those lean months, there was enough smallish inexpensive items for you to splash out a couple of quid on something which was fun to look at and had a use.which always reminds

No Saturdays would be quite complete without a visit to the store on John Dalton Street, and occasionally out to Wythenshawe, while growing up in Eltham offered up a trip to the store at Bromely.

We still have lots of odd Habitat bits knocking around, but all pretty much come from its heyday in the 1960s and 70s.

And it’s the unexpected stuff which still lurk around the house that I cherish most of all.

Each of them was a product of a sales campaign which after they were finished the shops sold off.

Taking pride of place from 2002 is a paper machete head which always reminds me of Sergeant Pepper from the LP of the same name issued by the Beatles in 1967.

Equally were the three cardboard Penguins I bought in 1978.

Alas they did not fare so well and one by one were discarded.

 One had been covered in red wine, another began to peel and the third was much knocked about by visiting kids and chewed by the dog.

But by chance I came across a photograph of the penguin from 1979. A tad out of focus but a penguin none the less.

Location, 1979-2002

Pictures; the art of Habitat, 2002 and 1979 from the collection of Andrew Simpson

Knives, glasses and much more ………the Conran revolution

Now, because I can, I will revisit the experience that was Habitat, and in particular those years in the late 1960s and 70s when I laid aside comics and other frivolous things and began seriously to think about furniture and design.

It was that familiar rite of passage …….. meet someone you really like, move in together, and along the way get a job and set up home.

And freed from the constraints of the taste of my parents I went looking for all that was chic, modern and not too expensive.

It was a journey I shared with heaps of young people of my generation and by degree it took me to Habitat.

It is a store I  have written about and will continue to do so, which means instead of exploring the story I will just select from a collection of pages from the 1972 Habitat collection.*

They belong to my friend Ann who lives n France and sent over the pictures with the promise that at some point the original catalogues will follow.

The “stuff” may look no different from today, but don’t forget most of what you see is a world away from the hand me down furniture and kitchen utensils scrounged from parents or acquired from second hand shops.

And yes I know a lot of it might have been influenced by designers from the 1930s and 50s, but the difference was Habitat was instantly available to us in a shop near by.

As for those who ponder on the quality of what was offered, many of us are still using bits that we bought from Habitat.

In our case it includes three white lamp shades which were advertised in the 1972 catalogue as "big bold shades [which] cast a wide pool of light over a work bench, in a studio above a kitchen table, and cost £3.50 each"

I bought the three in 1979 and  survived 4 kitchen make overs in our house on Beech Road.

While Ann still uses her Habitat knives half a century after they left the Manchester store for her house in Chorlton and Glenys is still happy with her Arkana coffee table bought in the early 1970s.

So that is.

Location; the 1960s and 70s

Pictures; from the 1972 Habitat catalogue courtesy of Ann Love

*Habitat, https://chorltonhistory.blogspot.com/search/label/Habitat

Shopping the years …… with Habitat

The blog doesn’t do nostalgia … it’s a false and dangerous place, where the sun always shines during summer holidays and Wagon Wheels never lose their size.

But just sometimes it worms its way into the blog and in the case of these Habitat catalogues it is allowed.

If you are of a certain age to have thrilled at the first time you heard “She Loves You”, felt the light go out at the news of the death of Otis Reading and trembled during the Cuban Missile Crisis, then Habitat will resonate.

It was the go to place for those of us rebeling at our parents taste, and wanting to set up home with the exciting designs of the 1960s and 70s.

Much of what they sold was relatively cheap and allowed us to think we were chic, and different.

And even if after an hour of wandering through the show room you came out with just a set of wine glasses or ceramic pot advertising “Dripping” you felt you were up there with Conran, Quant, and heaps of forgotten pop stars.

These catalogues were sent over by my friend Ann in France.  

I had finished a story on design and history with an appeal for anything Habitat.*

Ann replied with “In response to your request, I have an assortment of these, from, I think , when the Habitat shop opened in Manchester.

It was when I was at Art College, and our tutor took us on a visit.

After having to search for good design in large stores, it was wonderful to find that everything in the same shop was well designed.

I have long been a fan of Conran, and much of our first and second home was based on what we saw in the Conran House, and Kitchen books. And later on his book on France.

I laughingly said to Howard, what Andrew needs is a couple of days over here, with a small van.

Then I went to look for the Habitat magazines.  I have about 20 dating from 1972, which was the year after we got married.

Will shake off the vintage dust, and send a couple of pictures, when I've got my breath back!”

And sure enough she did with the promise that some will come back with friends returning home after visiting Ann and Howard.

So there you are …… a little bit of 60s and 70s design when we were all so young.

And yes I suppose it is a slice of nostalgia

Next; a wander through the insides.

Location; the 1960s and 70s

Pictures; catalogues from Habitat, circa 1970scourtesy of Ann Love 

*Wendy houses …… and a bit of social history, https://chorltonhistory.blogspot.com/2023/06/wendy-houses-and-bit-of-social-history.html

The Art of Habitat ………………

Now if you are of a certain age, the word Habitat means style, exciting designs, and a way of living which marked you off from what your parents liked.*

Added to which during its early years, Habitat was relatively cheap, allowing you to fill your first home with innovative furniture, bold light fittings, a range of kitchen stuff and some “quirky other things”.

And even on those lean months, there was enough smallish inexpensive items for you to splash out a couple of quid on something which was fun to look at and had a use.

No Saturdays would be quite complete without a visit to the store on John Dalton Street, and occasionally out to Wythenshawe, while growing up in Eltham offered up a trip to the store at Bromely.

We still have lots of odd Habitat bits knocking around, but all pretty much come from its heyday in the 1960s and 70s.

Sadly, none of the well-thumbed catalogues survived, although I do have a Habitat head, which Virginia bought for a few pennies as a present for me.

It had been part of a marketing campaign, and with that stunning business acumen after the campaign was over the company sold the  heads off.

And over the years I bought into these silly items, including a set of cardboard Penguins from 1978 and a couple of bizarre looking fish.

All of them proved talking points for years, but only the head has survived.

Perhaps other people have some similar remnants of those Habitat campaigns or perhaps even a catalogue which they would share with me.

We shall see.

Location; our dining room

Pictures; The Art of Habitat, circa 2002, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

*Habitat, Our Heritage, https://www.habitat.co.uk/help/our-heritage

Wendy houses …… and a bit of social history

Today I leave myself open for a bit of ridicule and perhaps worse, but I can think of no better way to learn about our recent past than to wander around those pretend show rooms.

They offer you a vision of what your home would look like if you bought a heap of furniture, decorative kitchen utensils and that thing you can use to extract the core from an apple.

I wish I had kept all my old Habitat catalogues from the late 1960s and 70s, because at a glance they tell the story of what we thought were new, chic, and must have items.

I say we, but of course it was the designers and the companies who did the thinking and us, or at least me who did the buying and then tried fitting them into rooms full of hand me down furniture.

And in the same way I suspect the latest offerings will provide future historians much to write about.

But I wonder if they will be kind about the orange and brown 70s colour schemes and the uncomfortable chairs which were suspended from the ceiling along with bean bags and wine carafes.

Leaving me just to appeal for old Habitat catalogues.

Location; the past

Picture; John Lewis showrooms, Cheadle Royal, 2023, from the collection of Andrew Simpson