‘Est 1884”. Thanks to assiduous reminders, it’s widely understood that the story of Marks & Spencer enjoys roughly the same place in national history and affections as do the Tudors and the second world war. In the absence of a Henry VIII or Churchill, the brand gets by with an innocent cartoon character/pink sweet, Percy Pig, whom customers are encouraged to think of as emblematic.
The store has a heritage website with a reverential timeline and, in Leeds, a gleaming archive (unlike, it is noted, its competitors) reflecting its “long history” and featuring, for instance, early bras, tea sets and vintage packaging. So we can be confident that, if the company gets permission to destroy its landmark building in Oxford Street, something of this discarded heritage will be accessible and respectfully curated. It could be harder for the company’s historians to be accurate, without jeopardising its extravagant claims to superior ethical, environmental, cultural and community values, about how it came to justify its right to smash it up in the first place.
