Flying Duck Enterprises
Sadly this is very much an illusion, as those of us who actually live here know to our great chagrin – we don’t have that many truly fabulous emporia – and we live in constant danger of losing what gorgeous independents we have to dismal chain stores if we don’t support them. My own personal dislikes are the nasty chain stores that masquerade as quirky – the Accessorises and Octopuses of this world – the ones which lure us in with the promise that we can find something unusual but are really just enormous conglomerates peddling mass-produced tat made by exploited third world workers at inflated prices.
But I was going to talk about Flying Duck (how did I get so distracted????)
This mad little store is stuffed full of both high – and low – quality kitsch – original and new stuff. You can buy an original Beatles handbag, a Matt Munro album or a lava lamp, chilli fairy lights, plastic dancing hula-skirted maidens for your car’s dashboard, nasty orange melamine picnic ware for your camper van or a set of nudie shot glasses for your padded cocktail bar. It’s not to everyone’s taste – but it tickles mine – and if I didn’t live with someone who thinks that chandeliers in the kitchen are rather daring, the whole house would be full of Flying Duck nonsense. Oh – and if I had rather more money than I actually do. I didn’t say Flying Duck was cheap.
But I love to step inside, past the dodgy 70s furniture and the plastic beady curtains and browse through an entire album’s worth of The Beach Boys before buying an original 50s postcard for a friend’s birthday or a set of Hawaiian coasters to smuggle into the living room. Kitsch is a fine art – and so many (especially the “quirky chains”) get it wrong. Flying Duck gets it right – and long may they continue to stamp their particular brand of enjoyable junk upon Creek Road.