Lounging seductively amidst five floors of oriental and Deco drapes, scatter cushions, rugs and the most outrageous high street fashion ever seen, lay your dreams - beckoning forward, away from the drear reality of early 70s Britain - and into a past and future that never was. To compliment the studied cool of white-lipped pin-legged anti-shopgirls - a never-ending soundtrack : starbursts of glitter-glam, taut Roxy chic and ghosts of the Deco era glimpsed briefly through Manhattan's sonic mirror stacks. Flying down to Rio W8, from A to Biba, to see, ran the itinerary - and for the first time, a collection of the music that accompanied that journey . . .

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