Review by Kirstin
Skin Lane
Repression and desire in bygone London
Legend has it that 1967 was a marvellous year for London’s most swinging residents, whether it be getting stoned in Hyde Park or parking their Minis in the city’s first multi-storey car park. Boho glamour for some, but a decidedly post-war landscape for everyone else, exuding a greyness and reserve left over from the austerity years. In Skin Lane by Neil Bartlett, we’re transported to a furrier’s workshop just off Garlick Hill, EC4. Here we meet the outwardly dull and fastidious Mr F, the man the 1960’s forgot, whose hidden desires are set to ignite a nightmare of rage and shame.


