This was a naughty place where all sorts of fun could be had for a few bob and a smidgeon of chutzpah. The larger sense of Soho was different always commercial, but somehow never commercialised, it had an intoxicating whiff of the attainably forbidden. This overpriced flea market seemed to have peaked before it really got going, with Ben Sherman shirts, LeviвЂ™s Sta-Prests and monkey boots all available much nearer to home at a fraction of the price. Carnaby Street was never a particular attraction. Thus, memories of Soho from the most impressionable age were of wine, women and song, although not necessarily in that order. A beer was usually available, but failing that, it was enough to sniff the heady atmosphere, as the walls, floor and ceiling were always awash with alcohol. Later in the decade, our focus shifted to music, and the DollвЂ™s House made way for the Marquee Club in Wardour Street, where the likes of Jimi Hendrix would be hopelessly sold out, but where Procol Harum could be relied upon to offer a not-entirely-unsatisfactory alternative. Then it was straight to the DollвЂ™s House, a strip club that allowed us in, and frequently offered a group discount. Accordingly, when this worthy occasion finally ground to a halt around lunchtime, the more adventurous of us schoolboys would nip down the nearest alleyway to turn our blazers inside out, thus disguising our age and employment status. Soho was the place I had been specifically warned about, both by headmaster and parents: as it might have been on the old maps, вЂњhere lurk wicked thingsвЂќ. Just round the corner was Soho, a place where, so legend had it, schoolboy dreams could come true. There was a thrill in going up to Trafalgar Square that was unconnected with that grand old church. Every year, the grammar school I went to in Vauxhall, just south of the river, held a founderвЂ™s day service in St Martin-in-the-Fields. My first memory of Soho was of a place called the DollвЂ™s House in the 1960s. The longest queues in this part of London now tend to be outside the latest вЂњno bookingsвЂќ tapas bar, rather than for some form of entertainment that promises to flout the rules of conventional society. He said on Monday it was up to individual employers how staff returned, but emphasised that there were benefits to workers being based in the same location.T he news that Madame JojoвЂ™s has had its licence revoked and the doors locked will have stirred a familiar sense of doom вЂ“ not only in those who patronised that quirky club, but also in the wider fraternity of Soho lovers who feel that the place is rapidly losing its salty charm and succumbing to a wave of upward mobility.

It comes as the prime minister Boris Johnson said he wanted to see a gradual return of people to their workplaces. In terms of Covid precautions, all staff attending the office will be double-vaccinated and Moszynski said the policy is now one of common sense, adding: вЂњWe just make sure that people can have space if they want it.вЂќ He added: вЂњI think people were really keen to re-engage, we have young people who need to be mentored and the interaction is crucial I think to what being a creative agency is about.вЂќ Moszynski said the ethos is more flexible than previously, with no-one having a fixed desk, and external agencies and freelancers using the space as a hub. Now, London Advertising has a new base in Brewer Street, equipped with 14 desks and focused around a shared meeting area.ДЇounder Michael Moszynski told Campaign: вЂњThe consensus is we all wanted to work somewhere that was more than just somewhere to go to work, which has the buzz, energy and life we have all been missing.вЂќ Like everyone else, London Advertising staff were forced to decamp to their homes during the pandemic, leaving behind their offices in Clerkenwell and Shoreditch. AdlandвЂ™s gradual return to the office continues, with London Advertising signing a new lease in Soho, where the company started 13 years ago.

Soho signs