SUSO

Imparting Women’s Institute principles with a 21st Century twist.

W / JEAN HANNAH EDELSTEIN

They never imagined they and their ancestors would share so much in common: with the onset of the credit crunch-cum-major recession, many British twenty-somethings are finding themselves entering adulthood under the constraints of a new era of austerity that has more than a little resonance with those that dominated the 1930s and 40s, when their grandparents were starting careers and families.

But while the basic issues of running a household on a budget in a faltering economy are not entirely dissimilar, trend-setting young people in the edgier parts of East London are finding ways to put a fresh spin on some of the techniques for cutting back and making do that their grandparents first invented.

Jazz Domino Holly is the president of the Shoreditch Sisterhood, a year-old division of the Women’s Insititute, which was founded in 1915 to help women – then, mostly stay-at-home wives and mothers – pursue education and share skills. But though the organisation will soon mark its first century, Holly’s group is anything but musty and old-fashioned. “I was having monthly meetings at my house anyway,” she says, “just with [female]friends, it was a chance to get together once a month to discuss something.” While saving money was never an explicit goal, Holly says, membership offers those already not living extravagant lives a key social outlet, proving the a chance to spend a sociable and stimulating night out that doesn’t involve burning pounds down at the pub. After the first few months of these informal gatherings, says Holly, she realised that their meetings “fit really well into the whole Women’s Institute ethos” and they decided to register officially.

“At a time of strife the Women’s Institute offers an old-fashioned sense of warmth and belonging.”

This isn’t just a matter of patting yourself on the back pocket for saving money by opting not to launder your skinny jeans. Holly has been surprised by the resounding interest amongst local young women in exploring some of the activities that their grandmothers might once have enjoyed. “There was this massive kind of sub culture of younger people in their twenties who really enjoyed these kind of nostalgic activities,” says Holly. And though the remit was initially rather broad, it wasn’t long before many of their activities took on a notably crafty and domestic bent, a safe space where women could indulge in their desires to pursue uncool, but decidedly thrifty, traditional activities, sharing skills and swapping clothes. “I think a lot of people in the group feel embarrassed to admit that they like baking,” Holly remarks.

[Parts for a B-25 bomber motor are assembled in the US in 1942]

Furthermore, at a time of strife when it is easy for those struggling to keep up to feel isolated, the Women’s Institute offers an old-fashioned sense of warmth and belonging of the sort that has traditionally propped women up in hard times. “There is this real sense of detachment that people are sort of reversing against. These are young people who’ve got social lives, but I think they still feel sort of alienated,” says Holly, describing how the group fills the gaps left empty by the East London party scene.

And of course, a bit of old-fashioned thrift isn’t just for girls. Frank Ralston, another East London resident, had already been tending his allotment in Stepney Farm for two years when the credit crunch hit, placing him ahead of the curve when it came to cutting back on food bills by growing some of his own. “The allotment has been great,” he said. “I started doing it because I wanted to spend time outside when I wasn’t working, but it’s also been really productive – I got loads of onions, and Swiss chard, and beetroot. You can eat the beetroot greens too, they’re really good.” With the same kind of loving care that was once required of any self-respecting Victory Garden, Ralston spends most of his free time at the allotment, and has even recovered from serious heartbreak due to the goats who were tethered on a neighbouring patch. “It was my birthday, and I took my little brother down to visit,” he says, with a slight catch in his throat. “When we got there, there was a hole in the fence… and stalks. Nothing but stalks. I was numb.” Now, with demand for allotments greater than ever from people wanting cut corners themselves, Ralston is pleased – maybe even a little bit smug – to have already amassed so much experience. “I might start guerrilla gardening,” he says thoughtfully, considering ways in which he can share the fruit of his knowledge (and garden) with neighbours who are only now learning to use allotments to make ends meet.

But hang on a second – in light of the fact that this kind of old-fashioned self-sufficiency was popular before the recession hit, does that mean, like so many other Hoxtonite trends, it is really just meant to be ironic? Holly doesn’t think so.

Currently researching a book about this new kind of domesticity, she’s found a myriad of negative attitudes directed towards what she and the Women’s Institute are doing. “I’m reading into a lot of negative backlash about how feminism and domesticity can’t collide,” she says; but she and her Institute colleagues regard this as a fallacy. “A lot of us don’t have any sort of negative past personal histories with the domestic side of life,” she explains, countering detractors that might suggest that the Shoreditch Sisters are anti-feminist. It’s not about domestic drudgery any more, [when] we’ve got so many things that… help us with that stuff. It’s about it being out of choice… and I think there’s a lot of things to be remembered and learned from our grandmothers’ time.”