Wrong Side of History

Soho is historically the heart of London’s West End, a lively neighbourhood with a sleazy underbelly. Well, not even underbelly. When I was growing up the name had a strong whiff of naughtiness, being the centre of London’s sex trade, home to numerous brothels, strip clubs and porn shops; it was also the city’s gay quarter when homosexuality was first illegal and then stigmatised, as well as the heart of the advertising industry, Chinatown and countless pubs frequented by actors, journalists and other wastrels. 

It’s come a long way from the world described by Christopher Howse in Soho in the Eighties, a time when Soho Square was home to ‘drunks, drug addicts, resting and retired prostitutes, the mentally disturbed, homosexuals looking out for others, the daytime homeless, the anxious, people waiting for the pubs to open, the sleepy, local people wanting a bit of fresh air, casual thieves’.

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