Wandering down Ship Street, next to the far more conventional Heroes’ café, it is Unicorn’s window, brimming with a sea of dust-coasted books, garments and accessories that first catches your eye. From what I recall, the display hasn’t changed in two years and its disorganization means that everyone but the most tenacious of shoppers and the most perseverant of vintage obsessees is immediately deterred.
If the shop is open, which is by no means a certainty, you will find yourself occupying an uncomfortably large capacity of the three-foot floor space, with Iva, Unicorn’s founder and sole worker for thirty years. It is Iva that lends Unicorn its multiple idiosyncrasies.
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Having crossed the threshold, it is hard to know where to begin. The shop is always in a state of transition and frequently resembles some sort of modern art installation, but it has, in recent times, improved. Last year the clothes were half on the floor and half on the rails in a disorganized jumble. This year, however, rails have been ordered by garment type, but are so overloaded that it renders browsing impossible and I have twice been in the shop when a rail has collapsed under the weight.
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To her credit, Iva really does know her stock and will quickly dive into a pile of trench coats and mismatched handbags to dig out the bowling hat that you’ve requested, but the problem with her sales technique lies in the fact that she never really seems keen on selling anything.
Indeed, as I ask for the hat’s price she tells me that it doesn’t suit me and that it is designed for a man’s head. My companion is told that the dress she has yet to try on (there is no fitting room) won’t suit her body shape. You can’t help but feel you have gone shopping with your mother. Whilst Iva’s approach is a breath of fresh air against a backdrop of overly sycophantic and false flatteries from the mouths of other shops’ assistants, honesty is not always the best policy, especially given the slim pickings of Oxford’s vintage scene.
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Whilst I’m sure there is some gold to be discovered amongst Unicorn’s produce, the overwhelming feeling that you are invading Iva’s walk-in wardrobe does little to facilitate hours of browsing. The on-the-spot, extortionate pricing, characteristic of so much vintage merchandise nowadays is also enough to discourage you from making a purchase. You will not regret a trip to Unicorn, but go with the desire to buy only secondary to that of acquiring hilarious anecdotes from the shop’s unpredictable owner.
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