Vintage London This Week: Curator's Picks — 19 June 2026

The 1950s Wool Coat That Still Swings

Anglo Fabrics wasn't a household name — they were a Yorkshire textile mill that supplied wool to London's department stores in the postwar years. This coat is from 1950 or thereabouts, cut in a full circle that flares dramatically when you walk. The three-button front and deep patch pockets are pure Dior New Look influence, filtered through sensible British manufacturing. The fabric is dense black wool with a hand you don't find anymore — thick enough to hold its shape, soft enough to drape rather than stand. No designer label, but the construction tells you it came from a proper maker. For £37, it's absurd value.

A Rolex Scarf That Was Never Meant for Retail

Rolex didn't sell silk scarves to the public — these were boutique promotional pieces, given to top clients or displayed in shop windows. This one is Swiss-made, 1980s, printed with pocket watches across a blue-and-gold ground that matches the brand's signature palette exactly. The silk is crisp, the rolled hem is clean, and there are no pulls anywhere. Finding one in this condition, in London of all places, suggests it lived folded in a drawer for forty years. At £52, it's the sort of thing a collector would pay three times that for — if they could find one.

Monsoon Before It Was a High Street Chain

People forget that Monsoon started as a single shop on Beauchamp Place in the early 1970s, selling hand-blocked prints and Indian cottons long before anyone else in London was doing that. By the late 1990s, when this dress was made, the label had grown up — but it still had an eye for embellishment that most high street brands couldn't touch. This piece is midnight navy silk, covered edge to edge in iridescent sequins and glass seed beads in a floral scatter. Size 16, fitted bodice, full skirt. It weighs a ton and was clearly built for dancing, not standing around. For a summer wedding or a black-tie thing where you actually want to move, it's perfect.

Jenny Packham's Velvet Evening Moment

Jenny Packham built her London label in the late 1980s on evening wear that didn't feel stiff or costumey. This jacket — deep purple crushed velvet with a detachable faux fur collar — is from the late 1990s, when she was dressing half the women on the BAFTA red carpet. The velvet has a nice crush to it, the kind that catches light differently as you move. Marked a UK 10, fully lined, back zip. The fur collar comes off, which means you can wear it as a plain velvet jacket during the day and add the drama when you need it. There's some light wear at the underarms, which is exactly what you'd expect from a piece that was actually worn to events rather than sitting in a wardrobe.

Hugo Boss: The German Leather Blazer London Loves

Hugo Boss brown leather blazers from the 1990s are a quiet obsession among London's more discerning vintage shoppers. They're not flashy — no logos, no hardware theatrics — just precise German tailoring executed in thick, supple bovine leather. This one is an EUR 48, which translates to about a UK 38, and the cut is classic: notched lapels, two-button front, flap pockets. The brown has mellowed to a warm cognac tone, the sort of patina you only get from decades of light use. Wear it over a fine-gauge rollneck and you'll look like you just walked out of a Jil Sander lookbook. At £40, it's a fraction of what contemporary equivalents cost.

Deadstock Bell Bottoms from the 1970s

Dee Cee was a British workwear brand that, like a lot of British workwear brands, made denim that outlasted its own reputation. These are 1970s bell bottoms, deadstock — meaning they were made, stored, and never worn. 38-inch waist, 32-inch inseam, and the flare is properly wide, not the timid bootcut that passes for a flare on the high street. The denim is rigid, unwashed, the kind that moulds to your body over the first dozen wears. Finding deadstock 70s denim in this condition is rare — most of it got worn to shreds during the actual decade. These survived because someone, somewhere, bought them and never got around to wearing them. Their loss.

Dave & Johnny's Beaded Black Number

Dave & Johnny was an American evening-wear label that had a moment in the early 2000s, particularly with their Laura Ryner collaboration line. This dress is from that period — a black mesh base with dense glass beadwork arranged in geometric patterns across the bodice and skirt. Size 9/10, fully lined, with a modest train at the back. The beadwork is intricate without being fussy, the sort of construction that would cost a fortune to produce today. It's the kind of dress you wear to an event where you want to be noticed for the right reasons — the craftsmanship, not the volume.

St George by Duffer: 90s British Streetwear Royalty

Duffer of St George was one of the defining British menswear labels of the 1990s, occupying a space between streetwear and tailoring that no one else quite got right. This brown leather bomber with a fleece collar is from their prime period — late 90s, when the brand was stocked in the best shops in Soho and worn by every DJ and creative director in London. Size XL, which in 90s sizing means it fits oversized in a way that looks intentional now. The leather is thick and has developed a natural grain, and the fleece collar is still plush. These bombers are getting harder to find — Duffer went through several ownership changes and the original production runs were small.

Laura Ashley's English Garden in Silk

Laura Ashley defined a very particular kind of British romance in the 1970s and early 80s — floral prints, prairie dresses, an aesthetic that was equal parts Victorian nostalgia and West London bohemian. This silk scarf is from the early 1980s, 34 inches square, printed with small roses and English garden foliage on a light ground. The hand-rolled hem is immaculate, and the silk has that crisp hand you only get from pre-1990s production. Laura Ashley silk scarves from this period are collectible in their own right, and this pattern — dense, all-over, properly English without being twee — is one of the better ones I've seen.

French Connection's Minimalist 90s Moment

French Connection — or FCUK, as their infamous branding went — was everywhere in Britain in the 1990s and early 2000s. But before the provocative ad campaigns, the label made genuinely good, understated clothing. This brown faux leather jacket from the late 90s captures the minimalist mood of that era perfectly: clean lines, no branding, a cut that slims without squeezing. Men's medium, simple zip front, two side pockets. Faux leather has aged into a convincing patina, and at £87 it's a reminder that good design doesn't need to be expensive or made from animal hide. Wear it with raw denim and a white tee and you've got a uniform that's worked for thirty years.

Afterword

London's vintage scene rewards patience and a willingness to dig. This week's picks span five decades, from a 1950s wool coat made in Yorkshire to a 2000s beaded cocktail dress, and they share a common thread: pieces that were made properly, by people who cared about construction. That's what I look for every time I walk into a vintage shop — not the label, not the hype, but the stitching. These ten pass the test.

See something you like? These are all live listings, and good pieces don't sit around. If you grab one, I'd love to hear how you style it.