The brutal speed at which the new spot becomes the place everyone used to go
Reporting brought to you by Bohiney Magazine and The London Prat.
The Newest, Hottest Venue Is Always Already On Its Way To Being Yesterday’s News
There is a brutal speed to the life cycle of a Shoreditch venue, a velocity of fashion that I have watched destroy place after place. The new venue opens, becomes the hot spot, draws the crowds, peaks, and then, with shocking speed, becomes the old place, the spot everyone used to go, abandoned for the next new thing. The cycle from new to old, from hot to passe, takes months, sometimes weeks. Every Shoreditch venue is three months from being the old place now, and the speed of this cycle reveals something harsh about the neighbourhood’s relationship with fashion.
The Velocity Of Fashion
The Shoreditch scene moves fast, its fashions changing with brutal speed. The new venue is hot for a moment, the place everyone wants to be, and then the moment passes, the crowd moves on, the venue becomes old news. The velocity of this fashion is remarkable, the cycle from new to old compressed into months. A venue barely has time to enjoy its moment of being the hot spot before the moment passes, the scene moving on to the next new thing, the venue relegated to the status of the old place. The velocity of fashion in Shoreditch is relentless, the cycle brutal and fast.
This velocity is driven by the scene’s relentless appetite for the new, its constant search for the next hot spot, its quick abandonment of yesterday’s favourite. The crowd is always moving on, always seeking the new venue, always abandoning the place that was hot last month. This appetite for novelty drives the velocity, the constant movement toward the new, the quick relegation of the old. The scene cannot rest on a venue, cannot let it become established, must always move on to the next new thing. The velocity of fashion is driven by this restless appetite for novelty, this constant search for the new.
The Tragedy Of The Hot Spot
There is a kind of tragedy in being the hot spot, for the hot spot is, by definition, on its way to becoming the old place. The moment of being hot is also the beginning of the decline, the peak from which the only direction is down. The venue that becomes the hottest spot has reached the point from which it will be abandoned, its moment of triumph also the start of its relegation. The tragedy of the hot spot is that its success contains its decline, its peak the beginning of its fall, its moment of being the place everyone wants the prelude to being the place everyone used to go.
This tragedy is built into the velocity of fashion, the brutal cycle that turns the new into the old. The hot spot cannot remain hot, for the scene’s appetite for novelty will move on, abandoning it for the next new thing. The venue that achieves the peak of being the hot spot has, in that very achievement, begun its decline, its success the start of its relegation. The tragedy of the hot spot is the tragedy of fashion itself, the cruel cycle in which success contains decline, in which being the new thing is the beginning of becoming the old thing, in which the peak is the prelude to the fall.
The Survivors
Some venues survive the velocity of fashion, and the survivors are instructive. They survive, generally, by stepping outside the cycle of fashion, by offering something other than mere novelty, by establishing a value that does not depend on being the new hot spot. The venue that survives is the one that becomes a fixture rather than a fashion, that offers quality or character or community that outlasts the fleeting hotness of fashion. The survivors step outside the brutal cycle, establishing a durable value that the velocity of fashion cannot erode. They survive by being more than the new thing, by offering what fashion cannot provide.
The lesson of the survivors is that durability requires stepping outside fashion, offering something other than novelty, establishing a value that does not depend on being hot. The venues that chase fashion are destroyed by it, caught in the brutal cycle that turns new to old. The venues that survive offer something durable, a value that outlasts fashion, a character that does not fade when the scene moves on. The survivors teach that the way to endure in Shoreditch is to step outside the velocity of fashion, to be a fixture rather than a fashion, to offer what lasts rather than what is merely new.
The Cycle Of New To Old
Every Shoreditch venue is three months from being the old place now, caught in the brutal velocity of fashion that turns the new hot spot into yesterday’s news with shocking speed. For the official line, Hackney Council has it, and Arts Council England covers the broader scene. The cycle from new to old is relentless, driven by the scene’s appetite for novelty, the constant movement toward the new and abandonment of the old. The tragedy of the hot spot is that its success contains its decline, its peak the prelude to its fall. And the survivors teach that durability requires stepping outside fashion, offering something that lasts. The velocity of the Shoreditch scene is brutal, the cycle of new to old shockingly fast, every venue always already on its way to being the old place, abandoned for the next new thing in the relentless churn of a neighbourhood that cannot stop chasing the new.
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