A social history of 1920s London (part 1)
A window onto life for a young woman living in the capital 100 years ago, as described in her diary.
I’ve long been a fan of, and proponent for, social history.
I wrote about the importance of recording our everyday lives in this newsletter back in 2021.
I’ve also previously linked to an article about ‘diary hunters’, and the story of a couple who discovered a diary that had been hidden away for more than 100 years while renovating their house.
Personally, I feel like exploring history through the lens of someone similar to me will give me a deeper insight into that time, than an account filtered through the rarefied lens of what author Hallie Rubehold refers to as ‘the great’ (usually elite white men).
And then, towards the end of last year, I learned about The Great Diary Project!
It’s an open access collection of more than 17,000 diaries housed at the Bishopsgate Institute in east London.
The collection was founded in 2007 by Dr Polly North and Dr Irving Finkel (you may know his name from his role as Assistant Keeper of Ancient Mesopotamian script, languages and cultures at the British Museum). The project celebrates the value of diaries in “revealing the extraordinary and the everyday in individual lives”.
As the website explains: “Diaries are among our most precious items of heritage. No other kind of document offers such a wealth of information about daily life and the ups and downs of human existence.”
And this month, I finally got to explore the collection!
Heading into the Special Collections and Archives researchers' area, I wasn’t quite sure how I might put my visit to best use – both from a personal and publishing point of view.
But as I began to browse the catalogue of diaries, one in particular stood out to me, and an idea came into focus.
The diary was written by 17-year-old Londoner, Lily*, who was born in 1905 and died in 1993. It was donated to the collection after her death by a member of her family.
The vast majority of the diary’s 383 pages were written in 1923 – the synchronicity of sharing the social history captured there, 100 years on, really appealed to me.
But also – and perhaps most importantly – I liked Lily as soon as I started reading.
She was funny:
[On an evening at a club, while wearing “a teeny bit” of make-up, the manageress pulled her aside, and “burst out”]: “‘What do you mean coming here with a face like that?’. I smiled sweetly and said, ‘I can’t help my face, can I? I was born like that. My face is my fortune, though poverty is no disgrace.’ … I don’t wear [make-up] because of necessity. I don’t need it. I wear it out of devilry. It gives such a delicious feeling of naughtiness.”
She was feisty:
“During the evening I was dancing with [her date] Oscar’s friend, Jack. He wasn’t at all nice. While we were dancing he kissed me!!!!!!! … I went all colours [blushed], but I slapped him right across his grinning face, and refused to dance with him again.”
And – both maddeningly and amusingly – the world she lived in sometimes felt very similar to the one we live in today:
“Had a most annoying experience this evening. I was returning from evening school, on my ownsome of course. I heard quick foot marks behind me and a voice said, ‘Do you mind if I walk with you? I’m going your way!’ I got the wind up, and crossed the road, but would you believe it, he crossed over too. Isn’t it absurd to walk zig-zag to avoid someone one doesn’t know, so I said, ‘I don’t know you and don’t want to know you. If you don’t skedaddle – in other words vamoose – I’ll call someone.’ So he said, ‘Now don’t talk like that kid, I want to know you.’ But I turned my nose up and flew!!!”
And:
“Have got jumperitis, a new complaint. Everyone has got it. Have started a jumper in jade wool. Awfully pretty, but, like Tennyson’s ‘works’, it looks like going on forever.”
And, if I dare say, I don’t think Lily would have minded me sharing her diary. Because when she set out writing it at the beginning of 1923 – to “chronicle my doings and misdoings” – she did so with history in mind:
“I am only just 17 now. Sweet 17 at present. Tolerably happy. I am writing this as I want to read it back in six years’ time and see what I think of life then. Reading this diary over when I am 23!! How very ancient that seems to me just now. At present I am young with no worries or troubles, just the worry of where to go on Saturday or Sunday and the trouble of wondering what colour hat to get or what colour dress. I wonder if I will be disillusioned then or happier? If the world will be cruel, as it can be, or happy, as it is to a few? Time will show.”
So, in this issue – and several more over the coming year – I’m going to share some of the social history of 1920s London through the experiences of Lily, a young woman who lived in the north of the capital and worked at her father’s shop in the east. Who loved art, fashion, and dancing, and who was determined to enjoy herself while she was young.
23 March 1923:
“My friend and I were out yesterday. We passed a photographer, or rather, we didn’t pass. I said to her, ‘Shall we?’, to which she replied, ‘Let’s’, so we went in and had ourselves fizzed**. I hope they will come out decent. I’m always having photos taken. It’s nice to look over afterwards. I’ve got one at home when I was 14 – I look such sweet innocence – bless me.”
24 March 1923:
“I have an appointment [a date] for today, but I don’t think I’ll go. There’s a lovely dance my friend told me about, so I will go with her to the dance. It’s going to be a jazz carnival. I love those affairs. They are always so jolly. I love dancing. If I could just dance through life – how sweet it would be – but life always has sorrow with it.”
25 March 1923:
“Albert and Dave rang me up this morning. I was quite surprised at hearing from them. They want me to meet them on Thursday. I’ll go along with Betty. I like going out with them – got tons of oof** and don’t mind spending it. Albert is French. He is in London now as he is studying at school. He is about 20 I think. He speaks English very well. … We are good pals. I’ll be sorry when he goes back to France. Dave too is an awfully nice boy and having plenty of the necessary – what else would you want? We’re meeting them on Thursday early about 6.30.”
Read part 2:
* Lily isn’t her real name. Given the diary’s author isn’t that long passed, I’ve agreed to change her name and anonymise some of the finer details she wrote about, to protect the privacy of her living relatives.
** Occasionally, words in Lily’s diary are difficult to decipher – perhaps they are terms (slang?) no longer in use, or perhaps I just can’t understand her writing. I’m using this symbol to indicate when I’m not 100% sure if I’ve got the word right, or if it doesn’t make sense to me, etc.
