Private view: Damson Madder’s homage to hobbies

One less lip liner in my bag, a taxi drop-off on literal London Bridge and fraying laces on my favourite ballet flats can’t dampen my mood. The sky is suspiciously blue, the sun is shining, and everyone in London has been reminded that the city is actually pretty great once spring hits. In short, it’s the perfect early evening for Damson Madder and THE FACE to throw the opening night of our new outdoorsy exhibition, ​“Appreciation Society”. (It’s based around the brand’s new SS26 collection, shot by Siân Davey, in celebration of three special-interest groups.)

Wearing an aqua button-up top that nips in at the waist and dark-wash jeans, I saunter into the exhibition space on Bermondsey Street. Gathered around the nibbles – a tiered table of coronation sandwiches, devilled eggs (piped and topped with salmon caviar) and taramasalata – guests clad in Damson Madder’s new season chat up a storm. One girlie layers a khaki-frilled dress over a T‑shirt; another wears a burgundy-and-blue vest top paired with noughties flared jeans. A masterclass in self-styled cool.

The room, an industrial shell on any other day, is buzzing with smiley Damson Madder acolytes and three interactive installations. To my right, a bar stocked with Noam beer, Top Cuvée wine and Coke Zero; Davey’s tender campain shots, which are framed and hung on every wall, showcase euphoric mudlarkers, twirling roller skaters and binocular-strapped birdwatchers from POC-led Flock Together. The installations replicated the sounds, smells and atmosphere of each niche hobby depicted.

First to pique my attention: a mudlarking area with a small, low-to-ground entryway, resulting in a head bump. I take the hit (to my head and my pride) and enter. Immediately, I’m struck by the décor and fresh scent. Pebbles and hiding treasures are wallpapered inside the cylindrical cavern. Crashing waves hum constantly in the background while the soothing voice of a local mudlarker explains the cathartic nature of the pastime.

Next, I pass by a Token Books stand housing archive copies of seminal FACE issues, an anthology of British cups (very Damson!), Andrea Jeffrey’s Braids and Styles for Long Hair alongside with gingham Damson Madder bags and patterned trucker caps.

Downing half a glass of orange wine offered to me by THE FACE’s Senior Designer, Carmen Fribbins, I press onwards to the next hobby-based installation. I pull back and curtain and discover a gaggle of friends admiring a video of roller skaters in action on screen, all while taking snaps for their next IG dump. Visuals of a red-haired skater – curls tumbling down her back – in an A‑line denim dress over a pale-blue shirt, further layered with a yellow long-sleeve play before me. The smell of gymnasium rubber flooring and, yes, antiseptic hits my nostrils, working in tandem with the video and taking me right to her local skating rink.

A quick toilet break and makeup touch-up. I bump into a friendly face. ​“I couldn’t resist once I knew there was mudlarking,” says Louis Mayhew, one of the designers under Fashion East​’s umbrella. It transpires he’s an avid fan of the archaeological hobby. ​“You should come down sometime and join!” he adds.

Elsewhere, the excitement radiating off Emma Hill, founder of Damson Madder, is infectious. She grins from ear to ear and confirms the exhibition is ​“everything she hoped it would be”. Another guest and new friend, Jaz, who works in finance, tells me the night is ​“worlds away from her own”, but seeing so many people in the same pieces styled differently has inspired plenty of ​“ideas of how to dress for work”. Not bad. I also spy the exceptionally well-dressed psychotherapist and long-time FACE friend Hélène Selam Kleih, model Kukua Williams, Love Island​’s best-dressed Yasmin Pettet and designer Charles Jeffrey.

As the evening draws to a close, I make my way towards the birdwatching installation, a homey, burgundy structure. Two pairs of binoculars are fixed on one side and a slight breeze hits my eyes. Looking through the lenses, I see a flock of birds rising together into nothing but clear skies. How apt.

Before drinks are locked off and what’s left of the devilled eggs vanish, I head back to the reception area, turning bar staff for all of thirty seconds to pour myself a beer. Staff privileges and all that.

With a goodie bag in my clutches, I spot a young man outside the event on his way to the station. He asks me where and how he can pop by while another couple tries to peek inside. As soon as he hears the words ​“mudlarking” and ​“roller skating”, he’s determined to return the next day, when the space opens to the public – proof that even on a busy street in central London one Thursday night, the pull of community-driven wholesomeness is impossible to resist.