IOTW: Ballroom Emporium

Situated at the Cowley head of Oxford’s most treacherous roundabout—an arena where pedestrians, cyclists, and vehicles alike engage in transitory games of chicken, all to make their way in and out of the City Centre—sits Ballroom Emporium. The gilded, serif lettering displaying the boutique’s name gleams against its royal blue backdrop, though the shop is better identified by enticing racks of leather jackets, silk nighties, and various accessories that appear on their front terrace each morning. In the Uber to my dorm my very first day in Oxford, the primary mental note I made was that this was a place to be.

 

 

Anyone with a penchant for fashion is instantly awestruck by the sight of the interior. Warm lighting illuminates every wall, though you don’t see much of those; nearly every surface is blanketed, floor-to-ceiling, in true to form fashion. Countless racks of vintage fur coats, 100% wool sweaters, gowns,[1] gloves, trousers, shoes. Every item is tightly packed, and yet expertly showcased; anyone with a penchant for organization can see this is a place for which great care is taken. At the very centre of their two showrooms is a small inlet where the achingly stylish staff sit. Prima facie, you know they’re cool because they work at semi-historic vintage formalwear store, arguably the coolest place to work. You know they’re cool because they’re impeccably dressed, naturally. You know they’re cool because when you’re a probably too loud American asking, with probably too many teeth, to do an interview, they respond in cool measured voices—the spitting image of nonchalance.

 

 

Needless to say, Ballroom Emporium is iconic, and the people who work there… icons.

 

 

Though I’d feared my excessively eager introduction would scare them off, I was able to lure Talula and Jake away (during their shift!!!) for a much deserved sit down. I mean there are questions which beg to be answered. Where does the Emporium come from? What’s it like behind the veil? Why is the music always so good? Do you like my outfit?

 

 

I spot Talula and Jake well down the block, bundled against the cold, and regret my suggested meeting spot: G&Ds. Luckily it’s warm inside, and we settle into an odd sort of configuration at a countertop, seating proving to be more limited than imagined. We all get drip coffee. I’m the only one to add sugar. We begin.

 

 

Ballroom Emporium has been in open since 1984. In that time it’s been a bridal shop, a café, and ultimately a vintage formalwear boutique. Upon first meeting, Jake drops that he believes Cowley to be the ‘London of Oxford’. Bold. Talula later follows, ‘I guess that makes us the Shoreditch of Cowley.’ Having been to Shoreditch once, for but a few hours, and drawing an all too easy Bushwick parallel, I know what she means. It’s not that Ballroom Emporium is adamant about its own subversion—it’s Oxford’s ball season, after all, founded in exclusionary, high-class tradition, that keeps them busy in the winters. It doesn’t stumble over itself to assert relevance, with that ironic touch of self-awareness hallmark of those little gentrified neighborhoods where Vinted warriors and matcha gremlins lurk. Their Instagram is a mix of editorial shoots for whom they’ve been the garment source, ambitiously edited reels with sparkle effects and slo-mo, and some of the most stunning window displays ever erected. Though they share the core expressive urge of places like Shoreditch and the communities that flock to them, they possess the key quality so many have tried to replicate, defeating themselves in the process: originality. Ballroom Emporium is, dare I say, the Blueprint.

 

 

Recently, the inventory has been inclined towards seventies fashion, much to Jake’s delight, who made clear the period’s slim flared silhouettes, sharp collars, and long lapels are where his heart lies. He quickly acknowledges that his well woven sweater and double-folded beanie are ‘obviously not seventies,’ but I see whispers in the warm earthy tones, obviously, he knows something about style. Talula tells me a change has begun, though. The eighties are coming. The maturation of each present decade must usher in its own vintage. She explains these clothes are harder to find in good quality, since the era is marked by a shift towards mass production. The advent of polyester and other synthetic textiles means the journey through time is fared with greater difficulty. The Iron Lady flashes before my eyes, Herman Miller office furniture, productivity, efficiency, big shoulders. Then I imagine big hair, colorful geometrics, motifs echoed in the belted sweater dress Talula is wearing, her spoked hairpin evoking a disco Princess Leia, donned in black. Fashion’s often funny that way, the duality, that is.

 

 

Half the staff at Ballroom Emporium are under the age of fifty, the other over. If you wanted a single reason for that ineffable quality of theirs, this is where you find it. Since their establishment, the Emporium has been building connections, carving out its place in Oxford. What they don’t source from fancy attic and secret estate sales is brought into them by clients of taste, who have built a repertoire of garb over the years. They keep these pieces in wearable quality with the work of two seamstresses, a handwasher, and loads of mothballs. When you house handstitched clothing that dates back to the 18th century, you treat it like the living history it is. Beyond what the naked eye can see of the scores of fabrics mounted around the store, there exists clothing tenfold, hidden behind racks, tucked into boxes, and piled neatly in their two basements, and two attics. Such wealth of material must be subject to the kind of diligent charge that can only come from extensive experience. As both Jake and Talula agree, what one might call chaos is merely the eclecticism of hidden genius.

 

 

I ask the two for the defining factor of personal style. They tell me it’s using what you have, they tell me it’s what you’re comfortable in. And I’ve heard it before, but coming from them I really believe it. I’m inspired to rifle through my closet and play dress up until I’ve reached a happy medium. I ask why the music in the store is so good. They tell me there’s some light playlist competition, that jazz is forbidden, but mostly anything else is on the table. Talula tells me Baltimore, by Nina Simone, is the embodiment of the store in the summer. I can almost feel the warm breeze creeping lazily through an open door; oozing, golden light that sets late; a window display of cotton dresses and wide-brimmed hats. “People are drawn to vintage shops,” says Jake, “it’s a multi-sensory experience, surrounded by such an eclectic range of things and history. There’s something so exciting about that”. Given Ballroom Emporium’s place in Oxford’s history, and their relevance to the city present, given they have adapted time and again to suit the needs of their patrons, while never relinquishing their own identity, they are nothing less than this fact’s single greatest testament.

 

 

[1] You MUST book an appointment to buy a ballgown. They do NOT accept walk-ins. Heed this warning…

 

Words by Kalie Minor. Image by Kalina Hagen.