At the centre of this chinless Chelsea scene (as shallow in its own way as that of Hampstead Village) was a thriving and industrious King’s Road boutique called ‘Bazaar.’ Owned by Mary Quant, her husband Alexander Plunket Greene, and their partner, Archie McNair, Bazaar opened on an elegant shoestring in November, 1955 and swiftly galvanised the pioneering young things that became their earliest patrons. Bazaar’s fashions brought the expressive sexiness only a few daring women would as yet act out in their bedrooms, into an up tight work place transformed by feminine youth. Mary Quant would give the New Workers their cockney-Chanel non-uniform uniform at a price the suddenly eager shoppers thronging the High Streets couldn’t resist.

Vidal Sassoon, crimper and entrepreneur: I always said that the King’s Road was Mary’s atelier. She had her shop, right there in the King’s Road, and it was one marvellous show. You could go into the King’s Road, outside Mary Quant’s, and there you had the young people—it was wonderful.

You have to remember from a psychological point of view what was going on with humanity at the time. We’d come out of a horrendous war. There were still enormous shortages in the 50s and suddenly . . . the 60s. . . .

What was so invigorating about that 60s thing was the innocence. There is a resurgence today of fashion, you know, with all kinds of things going on . . . very pleasant, very nice, but, a lot of cynicism goes with it now. In the 60s, there was a total innocence, people coming out of two decades of shortages, suddenly earning money of their own, young people with spending power. They wanted to spend it in their own way and people like Mary were there to lead them.

ALO: The Quant Look came to be topped off by the strikingly functional and sexy statement that Vidal Sassoon brought to hair. Iconized by photographers Bailey, Donovan and Duffy, Quant’s empire was the one true manifestation of Pop in the years between the archetypal rock ‘n’ roll of the mid-50s and its eventual second coming with the Beatles in the mid-60s. Quant was naturally the place I wanted to be. I learned that the Bazaar business office was at the back of Ives Street, close to Draycott Avenue. Nervously I knocked on the door; it was opened with kindness, and suddenly I was in.

When you’re on, you’re just blind, going through it, getting the job done, so you don’t actually remember the moment though you’d better be in it. That’s why its difficult to remember what I said when I walked in. Hopefully I listened, I doubt it. When you’re on, you’re just blind, going through it, so you don’t actually remember the moment. I can remember the rehearsal, and I can remember arriving. The next thing I remember is leaving Archie’s office and voila . . . I had the job.

Well before 1963 changed the face of music as we knew it forever, Britain had already got a pop business—Fashion. This new rock entrepreneur took those established freedoms and applied them within the limited safe world of the music business where they appeared innovative. Six months after leaving school, qualified to do zip, I was suddenly out of the slum and way ahead of the pack. I’d been very lucky. That’s why, for me, Quant Ltd. was such great training, because at first fashion was the fashion, then fashion became music. So I had a head start on those of my peers who remained in Soho.

I helped Mary dress the windows which was my training for record cover design. I poured drinks for journalists which made me realise liquid can become print. I walked the dogs of famous models which taught me how to handle stars—and I learned how to throw parties. It was amazing to watch. The three of them, Mary, Alexander and Archie were in total sympathy. They didn’t need words and when they used them, so very well, they could finish each other’s sentences. And there was love, and it was apparent. In their own fashion, the Quant trio were very disciplined but they really improvised the whole thing. I will always thank Mary, Archie, Alexander and Vidal Sassoon—who I spent much time watching as he changed the shape of hair forever—for teaching me about fame, fashion, money and how to have fun getting it done.

Mary Quant: One day Andrew confided to Archie McNair’s wife, Cathy, that he could do any of our jobs standing on his head (Archie’s included). Cathy asked him what he did. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘when Mary’s a bit tired, I design a few dresses for her, when Alexander is choosing stock, I chat up the up the press for him. I could do it just as well on my own. Its easy!’

Archie McNair: Andrew used to run around with the delivery van. We were always ferrying clothes from Ives Street, which was where they were all delivered and held in stock, to the shops. He just thought he could do everything, which was nice, it was what attracted me to him . . . . he’d got a lot of charm. In a kind of way, he was ridiculous, but he was great fun. So I warmed to him. I think I had more to do with him than anybody else, I took him on for instance. I don’t think he was actually that interested in how the business was run, I think he simply assumed that it was easy and he could do it better. He was very young, I can well imagine how it looked to him. Well, then, everything looked like that to him. That’s why he did so well, he just sort of didn’t accept that he couldn’t do it.

There was just something about him that made it worthwhile to try and understand his dream and sympathise with it. I think we all saw him for what he was, this young man who’s got this wonderful idea of himself and it was very intriguing. He used to come to me in the evening ‘cause I always worked very late, I was a workaholic I suppose. He’d come up and talk to me. He was ambitious . . . very ambitious. I remember saying to him, ‘Oh come on Andrew, why haven’t you done that?’ And he said, ‘Oh I haven’t had time. Why can’t somebody else do it? Why can’t Mary do it? She’s only sitting in that little office down there drawing.’ But he was great fun. He wasn’t important in the sense that he was quite peripheral to the mainstream of our activities, but he was important to himself and he was interesting from that point of view to us. Alexander, Mary and me, we used to say to each other, ‘Do you know what he’s done now?’ It was a lovely dream that he had, and it was working to a great extent. We liked him very much, we all loved him. There was a sort of clown element about him, which was nice, he was entertaining. He was all over the top.

ALO: Working for Mary Quant was akin to being on the right movie. She knew she had recognised the right moment and turned a London ‘cult’ into a world-wide success, retaining control through independent production. I was getting an education that would cause and effect my later wants and needs for the Rolling Stones. It was amazing to be there: the tea-cups were thin, the carpets were thick, and life did not end up on the cutting room floor.