Not only that, despite being one of the 'name' designers and retailers of the 1960s, his clothes are in criminally short supply, falling victim to the 'here today, gone tomorrow' mentality of the hipsters of the day. Yes, you might see some at the V&A and a few rogue items might come up at auction or get spotted on eBay, but it's few and far between.

But if you've been shopping for clothes of late, you've been in a John Stephen shop. Ok, it didn't have his name over the door, but the boutique style of shopping he pioneered is still with us today, something covered with typical mod detail in The King of Carnaby Street: The Life of John Stephen by Jeremy Reed.

I'll be honest, I feared the worst when I saw the book. First off, the word 'biography' always worries me, some are good, some are bad, you take a chance. The dreadful mock pop art cover (on the copy I got) does the book no favours either. But perhaps the biggest worry, at least after the first few pages, was the concern that the author didn't really know John Stephen. Even now, after finishing it, I still don't know if he did.

But Reed does two things to overcome this. First, he does a serious amount of research, not least with those who worked with Stephen and those who frequented his stores and secondly, he opens up the subject beyond John Stephen, taking in both the competition and the wider world of the 60s and early 70s to offer some context to Stephen's enterprise. It works too, turning what could have been a fairly shallow account of a very private man into perhaps one of the better books on 60s fashion, not to mention an interesting insight into the early to mid years of the mod movement.

Stephen was originally from Glasgow, heading down to London filled with ambition and ideas, but deflated on his arrival when faced with the 'grey' clothes retailing in the capital. Clothing for many, in the late 50s, was functional - and the department stores were only too willing to cater for an easily-pleased market. Straight away, Stephen got a job at Moss Bros, learning the basics of cutting clothing that would help in years to come.

Not all clothing was black and grey, if you scratched the surface, you'd find colour in the gay market, not least at Vince Man's Shop, described as 'the first male boutique'. It offered a template of what clothing could be about - hipsters and knitwear in bright colours for example. Stephen later got a job at the shop, followed by a stint at the equally progressive Nicholas Perry, before setting up his own shop with business partner Bill Franks in a single room on the second floor at 19 Beak Street. It was the start of something big.

The initial gay clientele was gradually expanded by the more adventurous, early modernists. The tide was turning. Eventually, by a mix of luck, hard work and brave business decisions, Stephen and Franks used the connections they had picked up and Stephen's design inspiration to build an empire - from one shop to pretty much owning Carnaby Street, give or take one of two imitators.

Picking up on the growing 'mod' movement, Stephen capitalised on the desperation to stand out from the crowd by producing more bright, bold and interesting clothing in very limited numbers, offering originality at affordable prices. Affordable because after making his early money from imported clobber (including a consignment of brightly-coloured McCall knitwear that no-one would go near), most of his clothing was made in his own nearby factories or tweaked in the store for a unique touch.

Eventually, alongside Mary Quant, he became the face of 60s fashion, dressing the pop stars of the day, as well as the kids who yearned to be them. Another month, another new shop, all with bold, provocative windows displays and their own range of clothing. Which made Carnaby Street a destination for mod kids every Saturday and made Stephen very, very rich - especially when his clothing (and the bands wearing it) hit the US too.

Of course, it wasn't plain sailing. The previously-mentioned competition soon took away some of his trade, while Stephen's workaholic attitude and desperation to keep his homosexuality private left him with mental problems and the occasional breakdown. As the decade drew on, Stephen also had to contend with a changing world - with his preferred modernist style replaced by a more bohemian, psychedelic look. He ran with it, but without the inspiration of those early days.

In a way, he was also a victim of his own success. Carnaby became nothing more than a tourist trap (something that prevails today). Stephen the businessman embraced it, but perhaps at the cost of his own standing as the movers and shakers started to look more towards the King's Road bohemia for inspiration. The book fades out as we enter the 70s - somewhat appropriately, you have to say. Money was still being made, but at the expense of creativity. There was nothing more to say.

The King of Carnaby Street: The Life of John Stephen is an incredibly readable book. It takes regular turns from the main narrative, but never down a blind alley. When Reed takes us into the 'hippy' King's Road boutiques, into the 'secret' gay bars or on a detour into the career of the Rolling Stones, he does it for a reason - it's to add some meat onto the bones of the world where Stephen lived and worked.

Reed's re-creation of that world is also boosted by plentyo of black and white photos throughout and the added narrative of the people who lived through it - business partner Bill Franks and customers like Graham Hughes, Andrew Loog Oldham, Carlo Manzi and David Clegg. There's even a few choice quotes from other source material, from the likes of Marc Feld (Bolan) and George Melly. In fact, there's probably more detail on the classic mod 'look' and mentality in here than any other book I've read. Which is high praise indeed and all the more reason to buy it.

Yes, as you might have guessed, I thoroughly enjoyed The King of Carnaby Street: The Life of John Stephen and if you have any interest in mod, the era or the heritage of British fashion retailing you will too. 264 pages - and every one worthy your time.

Find out more about the book at the Amazon website


(First reviewed on 27th July 2010)