An array of things, and a night's reflections,
in the window of Molly's Emporium in Blackpool, England.
Bargains to be had. Will they still be there tomorrow?
Blackpool —on the northwest coast of England, between the Ribble and Wyre rivers —has long offered the sea.
In the nineteenth century, even before the railways, people flocked to Blackpool. They came especially from the Lancashire mill towns, but also from further afield, for the health-giving properties of the ocean air.
What began as four large hotels along the sea (by the 1780s) soon became some fifty guest houses.
By the late 1870s, Blackpool had become the quintessential British seaside town. With eleven kilometres of beaches, and a promenade that was one of the first to feature electric tramways and lighting.
By the 1890s, Blackpool had added a great tower, its Winter Gardens theatre, an opera house, and gardens.
The North Pier —cast iron on screwed piles—
which still stands off Blackpool’s North Shore,
was completed in 1863.
It was followed by two more. The Central Pier (1868) became famous for its open-air dancing and other “popular” attractions.
(Sandgrown’uns still speak of how the local elite had it constructed in the hope of reserving the North Pier for themselves.)
The South Pier (1893) opened on South Shore, and is now adjacent to an amusement park —Blackpool Pleasure Beach— which must derive its name (if not its style) from what had once been the “pleasure gardens” of Raikes Hall.
I’ve long felt drawn to Blackpool, having wanted to visit since living (for my studies) in the UK in the late 1980s and early 1990s.
Something about this seaside resort of faded glory, a bit out of step, away from it all . . .
With its cabarets
a stubborn glamour, northwestern pride,
an appetite for exuberance. For eccentric, gently shabby excess,
now its tattoo parlours and karaoke bars.
The “what're-you-doin'-here?” layers, the stories. The everyday noir.
the streets lined with guest houses and old churches
The old school attitude, the exquisite hospitality.
Blackpool's juxtapositions of presents
and pasts.
The regional seaside destination, decades after the overseas holiday became all the rage.
After an intense period of work earlier this month, I finally arrived.
To “take the cure” in my ways.
In the window at Molly’s Emporium each evening, the constant is change.
* photographs and watercolours by Kenneth Mills, 8-15 May 2022.
** Thanks to John Hailes and Nick Sapsford in Westfield House, Blackpool, England, for their welcome and generosity.