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Danny Benjamin owned and ran the Carnaby Cavern boutique in the 1960's and 1970's just off Carnaby Streetin London. Here he reveals some of the staff's flagrantindiscretions.
Staff were always a problem. We paid good wages but to get English-speaking people with a modem of intelligence washard. So when two prostitutes applied, why not! They were both well-educated;one even had a university degree.
And then there was Angie, dear Angie. Whenever I think of Angie, I say aloud, "You have to....don't you!"Angie was lovely, a true blonde English girl, with the sexual habits of a rabbit!
She told me she had worked the pubs as a stripper! She also admitted to having sex on every date!! Hence the expression:"You have to....don't you!" With such sexual prowessit followed that she soon had an unwelcome guest: VD.
The outcome of her visit to the local VD clinic was that she was forbidden sex for some six weeks. Soon after this she met with a wealthy car salesman and, as instructed,refused his every plea for sex.
This went on for several weeks. In the end the respectabilityof this wholesome blonde was proving too much. He proposed marriage and she happily accepted.
Talking to her husband Charles some weeks later, he told me most earnestly that Angie was the first decent girl he had met.All the others were slags ..... 'you have to'..... Angie had scored again..
Of the two resting prostitutes, they were taking some very strong medication, either for venereal disease or to curb their sexual urges! Because these prescriptions were VD associated they both hated to visit the chemists to collect their medicines.
One day when Michael was going to Regent Street to Boots the chemists, he asked if anyone wanted anything. The two girls with one voice asked him to get their prescriptions.
Michael, very proud that he now employed staff, told the pharmacist and all who could hear, "These are for my girls!" Michael, when relating the story to us, couldn't understand their looks of disgust, and we couldn't explain the reason that they thought him a pimp.
Leslie was a girl who was clinically oversexed, quite often,when pinning up a well endowed man's trousers, wouldstare transfixed at his tackle. We found it hilarious, and used to push her over, to break her fixation.
To get her revenge she flirted with me as though we were lovers whenever my wife visited the shop! Most embarrassing.
It sounds so bad, but it was the 60's.
We also had two homosexuals: one a very effeminate lad,who was a great disappointment to his father and brothers,all army officers; and the other was his friend Richard,who had run away from home at the age of twelve, and had been brought up by prostitutes in Soho.
I mustn't forget another Michael, a straight black Adonis, standing well over six foot, who had an amazing physique. He played games with the customers, by standing completely still, and then suddenly moving forward to serve them.
I fondly remember a Russian beauty, with hardly a word of English, but she looked great! One of my favourite compliments was a local shop 'Aristos', with its millionaire owner Aristol [murdered some years later}, where all the staff were told he wanted his shops to have a Cavern atmosphere. As manycustomers told me, it's not like a shop, it's more like a club!
Danny Benjamin, Middlesex, 2002
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