Yeah Yeah Yeah (Beatles/Paul McCartney)

19. Champion of the Gate Birds

May 1966
London

Alice

As we passed Belgravia and entered Chelsea, the hemlines got shorter, the eyelashes longer, and the men's jackets more outlandish. Kings Road was bursting with energy when the taxi dropped me outside Granny Takes a Trip. A cartoonish portrait of Jean Harlow was painted on the facade, nearly obfuscating the entrance to the shop. I climbed a short flight of stairs and walked through an indigo beaded curtain that rattled madly.

Once inside the shop, it was as if I'd entered another world. The air was heavy with incense and pot with an undernote of patchouli. An old Cal Perkins tune blared from a vintage Wurlitzer jukebox. The walls were as brightly colored as the clothes, which were all velvets, tapestries, and satins from earlier eras. I spied Syd Barrett discreetly browsing jackets in one corner while a well-known socialite debated between two skirts in another.

It was all so undeniably swinging, and I loved every bit of it.

The shop owner, Sheila, walked over looking like the cat that ate the canary. A year ago, she'd been selling vintage clothing at Church Street Market, and now her creations had started an underground fashion revolution.

"You look gorgeous, darling," she said, leaning in for a peck on the cheek.

"I look positively square compared to all this," I replied, gesturing to the mannequins surrounding us.

"We're going for fin-de-siecle dandyism," she said with a waggle of her eyebrows. "Is it too much?"

"It's just enough," I replied, throwing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer. "I love it. I want it all. Is Nigel here?"

Sheila shook her head. "He's in the studio today working on a commission... wait here, I pulled aside a few things earlier that I think you'll adore."

She walked quickly to the back, and I wandered over to admire an A-line dress made out of ornate brocade. The oversized label inside proclaimed Granny Takes a Trip - The World's End - Chelsea.

I felt a presence behind me just before I heard the low, teasing voice. Suddenly, I realized why there had been four or five girls hanging 'round the front of the shop. They'd been waiting for him.

"Rumor has it that if you lick the label, you'll have the best trip of your life."

I turned around and took in John Lennon, who didn't look entirely sober. He smirked and pulled down his sunglasses so I could see his twinkling eyes.

"Is your hairdresser out of town?" I asked drily, eyeing his long hair.

"Oh, but it took me hours to look this scruffy," he replied. "You've no idea the effort that goes into being me."

I raised an eyebrow, fighting to keep a smile off my face. Despite my initial impressions of John, I'd since learned that he was one of the good ones. We'd fallen into a bantery sort of friendship where neither of us took the other too seriously.

"I read in last week's papers that you're the laziest man in Britain," I noted. "What brings you all the way out here? Thought you'd be lounging around at home and counting all your overly-taxed money."

"You can't believe everything you read, Alice," he replied, shaking his head in mock disapproval. "Though I am a lazy bugger, so perhaps you should believe some of it. I'm only here to buy my wife a birthday present, and then I'm headed straight back to my louche lifestyle."

"And before you ask," he continued, "Paul's not here, so there's no need to run and hide behind a pile of clothes."

"Why would I do that?"