The toy department in Jenners was where my Mum would take me and my sister for a regular browse and occasional treat in the ‘80’s and where we took our girls when they were little, it slowly went downhill as the ownership changed and it was easier to go to the massive out of town shops.
I bought my first ‘3-step’ routine from the Clinique counter there and when Chanel rouge noir mania hit due to Uma Thurman’s beauty in Pulp fiction the girls on the counter would let me come in and paint my nails with the sample sometimes! I used to buy the perfect red lipstick from there too - the sadly discontinued number 36.
I had my first ever facial in their beauty rooms and to this day I still go to the same facialist who set up her own business over a decade ago.
Jenners stocked clothing brands which at the time you could only get in London and I used to scour the rails of the ‘designer room’ during the sales once scoring a Max Mara dress which I wore to my University graduation and which my eldest daughter recently wore to a party.
There was a cafe tucked away at the back of the store overlooking Rose Street which was rarely busy but served delicious sandwiches and was perfect for sitting breastfeeding for hours and not feeling the need to free up the table. It’s where I had a farewell lunch with my sister when she was heartbroken and about to impulsively leave for a TEFL course in Barcelona which lead her to a wonderful and unexpected life.
I can’t count the days or years I spent in that shop and I can’t think of any other shop which could hold all those memories. It was unique and never failed to feel special with its confusing layout, multiple lifts and winding staircases which I mastered as a teen making me feel superior to the confused tourists who couldn’t work out how on earth to get from the food hall to the 5th floor cafe (walk around the balcony, through the passage in the far left corner and up the stairs which feel like they should only be for the staff, past the hairdressers and there you go.)
I feel a pang of sadness every time I walk last it’s boarded up windows but I can still feel how it felt to waste a Saturday afternoon wandering it’s floors.
The toy department in Jenners was where my Mum would take me and my sister for a regular browse and occasional treat in the ‘80’s and where we took our girls when they were little, it slowly went downhill as the ownership changed and it was easier to go to the massive out of town shops.
I bought my first ‘3-step’ routine from the Clinique counter there and when Chanel rouge noir mania hit due to Uma Thurman’s beauty in Pulp fiction the girls on the counter would let me come in and paint my nails with the sample sometimes! I used to buy the perfect red lipstick from there too - the sadly discontinued number 36.
I had my first ever facial in their beauty rooms and to this day I still go to the same facialist who set up her own business over a decade ago.
Jenners stocked clothing brands which at the time you could only get in London and I used to scour the rails of the ‘designer room’ during the sales once scoring a Max Mara dress which I wore to my University graduation and which my eldest daughter recently wore to a party.
There was a cafe tucked away at the back of the store overlooking Rose Street which was rarely busy but served delicious sandwiches and was perfect for sitting breastfeeding for hours and not feeling the need to free up the table. It’s where I had a farewell lunch with my sister when she was heartbroken and about to impulsively leave for a TEFL course in Barcelona which lead her to a wonderful and unexpected life.
I can’t count the days or years I spent in that shop and I can’t think of any other shop which could hold all those memories. It was unique and never failed to feel special with its confusing layout, multiple lifts and winding staircases which I mastered as a teen making me feel superior to the confused tourists who couldn’t work out how on earth to get from the food hall to the 5th floor cafe (walk around the balcony, through the passage in the far left corner and up the stairs which feel like they should only be for the staff, past the hairdressers and there you go.)
I feel a pang of sadness every time I walk last it’s boarded up windows but I can still feel how it felt to waste a Saturday afternoon wandering it’s floors.