Photo: G.B. ENGLAND. Red Deer, Croydon. 1976.
The Teddy Boy is the quintessential British myth of masculinity: the dapper dandy dressed in Edwardian clothes, with a rebel’s heart and a gangster’s balls. He arrived on the scene in the 1950s as Savile Row tailors attempted to reintroduce themselves following the devastation of the Blitz. But these weren’t the typical Brits who catered to respectability politics; they were kids who had grown up during the war and came into their own as rock and roll hit the scene.
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Originally known as Cosh Boys, they got their name when the Daily Express shortened Edwardian to Teddy in a 1953 newspaper headline. The following year, things came to a head when two gangs dressed in Edwardian suits met after a dance. They accessorized their tapered trousers, long jackets, and fancy waistcoats with bricks and sand-filled socks and started rumbling in their gorgeous threads. Fifty-five youths were taken in for questioning, making anti-heroes of the lot—and the Teddy Boy myth was born.
GB. ENGLAND. Bradford. Market Tavern. 1976.
The Teds became a phenomenon that lasted for decades. Between 1976 and 1979, photographer Chris Steele-Perkins, working with writer Richard Smith, documented the phenomenon across the UK and published it in a classic book. For the first time in nearly 40 years, The Teds returns for an exhibition at Magnum Print Room, London, now on view through October 28, 2016. In conjunction with the exhibition, the book will be published in a revised larger format edition from Dewi Lewis.
Steele-Perkins photographed the third generation of Ted culture and style, documenting a group of teenagers who felt deeply nostalgic for a Britain that had passed them by. They were not the originators of the trend, but the did their best to carry on with the curious combination of sartorial elegance and brutal street rules. With their flamboyant pompadours and creeper shoes, they became the sworn enemies of a new wave that was emerging, embracing the punk ethos of the mid-1970s.
G.B. ENGLAND. London. Barry Ransome in The Castle, Old Kent Road 1976.
As Richard Smith wrote in The Teds, “Their style was exotic, alien, menacing: Brylcreem elephant trunks, drapes, drainpipe trousers, luminous socks, beetle-crushers. Out on the streets, you could still find the fights. Down at the municipal baths, there was the penny-in-the-slot Brylcreem dispenser. A quick white greasy squirt after a tone-up swim, the Ted could style his quiff, flicking and stroking with his plastic comb. Then out back with the gang up the bus-shelter, someone might have got his head kicked in by baseball boots, boppers, or cowboy boots with spurs. The Teds had found their identities in the gangs. They had moved from the back-streets to the housing estates and headlines. And they did it to the back-beat of Rock ’n’ Roll.”
Steele-Perkins’ photographs take us back to the tail end of Teddy Boy culture, and their commitment to style. Unlike many trends that come and go, the Teds were in it for the long haul; some of them never let go. They speak to an ethos that is distinctively British in its steadfastness while simultaneously combining and subverting aspects of the class structure to its own ends.
GB. ENGLAND. London. Adam and Eve pub in Hackney.1976.
All photos: © Chris Steele-Perkins/ Magnum Photos.
Miss Rosen is a New York-based writer, curator, and brand strategist. There is nothing she adores so much as photography and books. A small part of her wishes she had a proper library, like in the game of Clue. Then she could blaze and write soliloquies to her in and out of print loves.
