Danny Benjamin recounts exciting times of opening a shop at 6, Ganton Street in the 1960's. Part 1 of this story can be found under Uxbridge, Greater London.

We opened, the shop looked great, just one little problem, and that was -- a lack of customers! Who were we kidding, our position to put it nicely was 'off' Carnaby Street. We had plenty of time to think it through.

We realised we were just another shop selling the same lines as twenty others. The other shops were well established, solid and well organised, with strict rules of trading laid down by experts.

If an item didn't fit, it was unfortunate, but there were alteration tailors galore they could send their customers to. Or else they would charge to make the alteration, which I felt was wrong. For even at my shop in Uxbridge alterations were free.

We were given the name and address of an out-of-work tailor, called Michael, and was warned that he was a drunkard. So along to the address I went. In those days [possibly still] tailors couldn't afford an entire room, so they hired a work area, a space six feet long with a workbench, in a large room, with sometimes up to seven to a room.

At first we could not see Michael, but on closer inspection of the shelf beneath the bench, which was for fabrics and work in hand, we found him. Under his workbench was Michael, asleep in a drunken stupor, looking like an Irish leprecorn, about five feet tall, age possibly sixty.

I still recall in horror the dirty plates covered with mildew. I pulled him to his feet, and then noticed that he limped.

So now we had an alteration service by installing Michael in a windowless basement room, buying him the machinery he needed and putting up some lights.

I have never seen a man look so very proud. To him it was his wildest dream come true. He was to his word a good tailor, and for the next four years, was a great asset to us. During these years I never remember him drunk, happy yes!

As for personal hygiene -- well one out of two ain't bad!!

Our alteration service was an immediate success, for in just month's we had five tailors, all working with Michael. Soon we opened up the three floors above with another five tailors, to cope with the theatrical business.

Our greatest tailor was Otis, a genius who could make anything. Remember those fabulous leather cat suits he made for 'Alvin Stardust'? And his suits were wonderful! He made them for the 'Four Tops', 'Hot Chocolate', 'Buddy Grecco' and 'Shirley Bassey'.

Outfits he made for 'Olivier Newton John'. That fabulous evening suit for Wayne Sleep. Outfits for: Jason Crest, 'Kinks', 'Bandwagon', 'The Move', 'Equals', 'The Love Affaire', 'Harlem Globetrotters', 'Simon Dupre', 'Long John Baldry', 'Gulliver's people', 'Time Box', 'Marmalade', 'Barry Gibb', and even to my special mate, 'Edwin Starr'.

Many mornings would start with 'Bob Hoskins' bringing in a cup of 'cranks' coffee. 'Desmond Decker' was another who always arrived with coffee. I could go on and on, and for me it was all one long, long magical moment.

I recall taking out Richard Johnson and Francois Pascal [the star of 'Please Sir']; and trips aboard our luxury motor cruiser. By now my family numbered four and we had a lovely home.

All was well. Colin too had all the trappings of wealth, from his Rolls Royce to a string of five horses. Life was joie de vie!

One problem, but a nice one, concerned our alteration service, which required customers to return for their goods, in say, one hour. But to a man they refused to leave the shop! And the reason! Our grubby stairwell to the basement had become the in place to meet!!!!

The tailors were so alarmed at the number of folk just hanging around that they broke open the top half of the door, keeping the customers out of the workroom. Many times we counted twenty or more on the stairs.

The groups started sticking up their photos on the walls, I remember the Small Faces had a photo with just their faces, peering around the fattest man you ever saw! And a poster of 'Carl Douglas' the kung foo fighter.

There was even one of 'Casius Clay', but I don't remember his visit. The noise from the stairs sometimes became unbearable, but it was all great fun, for everyone was happy and enjoying themselves. So when the laughter became excessive, we turned up the sound system!

For some ten years the 'Carnaby Cavern' was without a doubt the busiest, happiest boutique ever. The only argument I remember was a lovely lady complaining about her friend's shirt. She gave me a really hard time, you know her as 'Blondie'.

On Thursdays it was the meeting place for those wanting to attend that week's 'Top of the Pops'. Colin was really in his element, and enjoyed every moment of his fame.

He now wore a monocle, carried a cane and wore the brightest brocade waistcoats. His suits had tails to his knees. What a terrific showman! When trade was quiet, we would send him on walkabouts. He would return in just ten minutes, as the original 'Pied Piper', with a mob of excited youngsters, following in his wake.

He died in 1988, but I still see him on regular re-runs of the 'Top of the Pops' and the often-repeated coverage of Mark Bolan's funeral; they were good friends.

A final thought on the success of the 'Carnaby Cavern'. We had a tic-o-press till that gave out little numbered receipts, possibly measuring one and a quarter inches high. One Saturday, at the end of trade, the receipts ran the thirty feet to the shop's door, over the pavement, over the road, across the other pavement, and touched the wall opposite!!

By then we had some fifteen employees... there are so many stories I would love to relate, some might merit a xxx certificate but that was normal for the sixties......

Danny Benjamin, Middlesex, 2002

A collage of mail order adverts of the Carnaby Cavern in the 60's and 70's.