I am a winter person, born to wear wool, eat cream and drink tea. I scoff at sun bathing and plot emigration to Scotland the moment London hits 23 degrees, but I think we all need a bit of light at this time of year. In the depths of January we are drawn to it like moths to a flame, or to God's Own Junkyard, where I found myself last Saturday. This riot of razzle dazzle is the creation of Chris Bracey, aka The Neon man who spent the past 37 years designing new and used neon fantasies for films, fairgrounds, movies and the odd seedy Soho strip club.
Something tells me some naughty boys and girls have got carried in here...
Anyone who has been to Tokyo, will know all too well, the combined effects of neon flooded streets and the type of jet lag that makes you sway. A bizarre sense of never quite knowing if it is day or night with all that turbo charged ambient light blinking away. Feeling as if you've been hijacked into a game of Sonic the Hedgehog. Given that I've spent an unholy amount of time thinking about candlelight vs overhead lighting since I returned from Amsterdam this is off piste territory for me!
Neon is out of my comfort zone, but golly its one fun riot of kitsch inside that warehouse, cheering my soul. Inside I'm dancing, whilst Cyndi Lauper's “Girls just want to have fun" blares out and you can’t help but smile. A visit to God's Own Junkyard has the equivalent effect of a ten minute sun bed down at your local salon/electric beach - minus the UV damage. In the words of Danny (to Sandy in Grease) "its electrifying!"
If you are not inclined to travel to zone 3, you can of course visit their Selfridges concession or pop up in Soho. But the full effect is mesmerising in their Walthamstow unit. You can also now have coffee, cake or something stronger in their new cafe/bar The Rolling Scone and make an outing of it. You just might want to check your metre reading before you go and flex the plastic! Imagine their annual electricity bill!