10:45 a.m. – she's always late. Sipping her cherry cola mixed with port wine, this prickly mimosa in army boots opens the Westwood's shop on King's Road. You'd wait an hour just to see her twirling around with the new records, this rebellious violet in a spray-painted leather jacket. Lost in a sweet reverie, her lipstick burns on your skin, the jasmine-white ruffles of her blouse lend a touch of romance... but don't get the wrong idea – maybe this ‘sex’ is for the rebels, but it still sells. £7 for the Pistols, no coins please. God save this queen.
"430 King's Road, London, this is where it all begins. Cool kids with bleached hair trading rare records. Ripped jeans, hand-painted leather, latex, tartan, prints that would make your parents blush and lock you in the house all summer... Did punk invent fashion, or did fashion invent punk? From underground clubs to television, punk always had its own style, its own press (fanzines), its own films, its own poetry... So we thought it should have its own scent too. Loud like rehearsals in a room with no soundproofing. Powerful like the turmoil of youth, but still sweet and romantic – the idealism of youth wrapped up in a heavy leather jacket." Dr. Mike – Founder