The Godmother Revitalizing The Last Vestiges of East-End Creativity
Ahead of Meihui Liu’s Lunar New Year celebration at Spitalfields Market, Anderson Hung sat down with her and talked about the victims of fashion, the secret rendezvous of the late 90s, and how she changed the creative community of the East End forever.
Meihui Liu on the East End’s Fashion Street, c.2000. (Photo Courtesy of Meihui Liu)
When fashion designer and curator Meihui Liu and I met at a cafe in Spitalfields, she was fresh out of a meeting with the Market’s management to discuss her upcoming pop-up, a Lunar New Year celebration that brings together East End artists and East Asian cuisine. The event honours both her Taiwanese roots and the local creative community, one that Liu has been building continuously for the past three decades — from night-outs to group exhibitions to producing documentaries.
The East End fixture sported a sleek blonde bob that paired chicly with an oversized pair of shades. Only halfway through our conversation would she take them off to reveal her blue eyeshadows. The choice of drink was a bottle of still water, as she wasn’t ready for her third coffee of the day yet. On the chair next to her were leather gloves, an ankle-length coat, and a black fedora with an orange acrylic tile attached, made by a milliner friend who also started in the East End but has since left.
“A lot of people have left because of gentrification and the rent becoming unbearable,” Liu said as we sat in a cafe that shares Brushfield Street with the Natwest head office and a brand new Aesop store.
Needless to say, Spitalfields was different when Liu started selling clothes there in 1998. Before that, Liu sold self-sourced vintage clothes at Portobello Road Market but decided to switch sides. “Rent was cheap here because the area was a wasteland,” reminisced Liu. “And everyone was just young kids who would stay home to make art six days a week and rent a stall in the Market for £20 on Sundays.” Noticing the amount of undercelebrated talent she was surrounded by, Liu realised the need for a tight-knit community to bring creatives together and further.
The East End’s unoccupied and underutilised warehouses proved to be the perfect spots for that, as they were lent to Liu free of charge. Liu’s monthly event was branded the Secret Rendez-Vous, (it is unclear if it is of any reference to the Kobo Abe novel or the Karyn White song) and just as its name suggests it wasn’t a typical club night. It was where creatives from all practices would gather, dress up, flaunt their work to the community, and find ways to collaborate. The monthly gathering connected art duo Gilbert & George, make-up artist Alex Box, and cohorts of St. Martins students, to name a few, at the turn of the century.
“I brought over so many talented people who I met in West London and orchestrated so many collaborations,” said Liu. “It’s safe to say that I was the one who gave life to the subcultures in the East End, and that’s why they call me the godmother of East London fashion.” (apparently also the Mother Teresa of fashion in Japanese magazines)
“It was very pure and organic, we were nothing but young and broke kids and nobody cared where you’re from or what you do or who you are.” Liu subsequently opened her fashion boutique, Victim, on the area’s Fashion Street, known for her one-off, upcycled pieces. The apt name stemmed from her own experience as a “victim of fashion,” which she jokes a lot about.
Before coming to London, Liu was just another Taiwanese girl who would save up all the money from her part-time job to afford Dolce & Gabbana and Miu Miu. In London, she fell in love with Vivienne Westwood’s punk D-I-Y ethos, though that initially didn’t change much as she was just spending all the money she made from Portobello Road at the Vivienne Westwood boutique. She then left London briefly for a fashion degree in Paris, where she designed a collection using antiques she found locally. That’s when she came to a different conclusion and embraced the D-I-Y part of Westwood’s work upon her return to London in ‘98.
“No one complimented me when I wore designer clothes, but they appreciated it more when I was individualistic,” said the designer. Without a doubt, Liu had both the eyes to source out unique vintage materials and the vision to deconstruct them and produce one-of-a-kind upcycled garments. Among her favourites was a petticoat made out of a George IV-era Union Jack, Victorian laces, and layers of chiffon. At Victim, Liu not only caught the eye of foreign buyers and renowned designers but also Joseph Corré, Dame Westwood’s son, a full circle moment indeed.
The Secret Rendez-Vous helped put Victim’s name on the map, but it didn’t take long for her to realise that Victim and its neighbouring independent boutiques aren’t profitable. “I was designing seasonal collections and attending fashion weeks, but all of my proceeds went straight into making a new collection.” For yet another time she became a victim of fashion, along with “fashion students who spent thousands for a fashion degree only to end up with six looks and nowhere to sell them.”
Liu then turned her full-time fashion business into an art project and took on careers as a curator, producer, and consultant, which in turn, also opened more doors for her upcycling pieces. That’s when Liu’s community-building took on a mission.
As independent creatives struggle to afford physical spaces, Liu was determined to create a platform for them to showcase their work and reach their customers more easily. “I understand what they are going through and want them to skip the nonsense of relying on a fixed system of seasons, fashion weeks, and purchase orders.” This is realised in two decades of countless pop-ups, exhibitions, and other special projects hosting many generations of East End creatives.
In 2019, Liu curated one of her largest projects, also one of her proudest, as she shared enthusiastically. It was a six-month pop-up fully sponsored by Bicester Village for Liu to bring the rebels of East London to Oxfordshire. Liu chuckled as she played a video of herself, leading a dozen of London’s campest individuals off a train and strutting into the lifeless outlet shopping centre. The scene is a reminiscence of Dame Westwood and Malcolm McLaren's notorious store on King’s Road in a pool of opulent boutiques.
On her current agenda, she has a long-term ongoing project with award-winning filmmaker Tim Yip to document the people giving East London its creative energy, from Gen-Zers to early pioneers who partied at her secret Rendez-Vous, including Jamie Morgan, Roksanda Ilinčić, Stephen Jones, and Pandemonia. She is also planning an exhibition to bring creatives together and celebrate the 25th anniversary of Victim.
She left her Fashion Street store a long time ago after the young-designer-supporting Instituto Marangoni became a tenant of the street and ironically drove up the rent. However, her upcycling art has continued to draw attention at the events she curates, alongside the other East Londoner she supports and supported unconditionally. It is now that the Mother Teresa reference started to make more sense.
Liu witnessed thirty years of East End’s ups and downs, as creatives come and go. Knowing that East London isn’t the same East London anymore makes you wonder why Liu still chose to stay, other than nostalgia. “I feel like I belong here, but I don’t,” she said, putting her shades back on. “I don’t go out and party anymore and the scene is not exciting anymore. Young people are only coming to the East to try out new restaurants and it’s not about the artistic energy anymore.”
Perhaps, as long as any creative is rebellious and defiant enough to stay as Liu did, she would do whatever she could to hold the community together. 2024 ended with the Voices of East London Festival, when for a day Liu took charge of the entire Spitalfields Market to host exhibitions, performances, workshops, and a catwalk with the community she holds dear to heart. “That was the best thing ever,” she said with a grin. “Spitalfields is great, they need me more than I need them though,” she added.
Busy to get to her next meeting, Liu disappeared promptly (and fashionably) into the crowd queuing up for £7 CBD matcha lattes and a Uniqlo winter sale. It feels reassuring, though, knowing that in a week, the godmother will once again bring back the rebellious energy (and this time her famous dumplings) to the market.
