daughter of a bohemian

Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love

London belonged to the young. All the old class structures of our parents’ generation were breaking down. All the old social mores were swept away. No one cared where you came from or what school you’d gone to, what accent you spoke with or how much money you had. All that mattered was what you could do, what you could create. Bohemian baronets smoked grass openly, dukes’ daughters went out with hairdressers, and everyone put two fingers up to the conventions of their youth and the expectations of their families. The capital was abuzz with creativity, bristling with energy. Everything was possible—and money was not the key to every door.

Painters, poets, writers, designers, admen, media figures, and, of course, musicians expressed themselves with fearlessness, freshness, and freedom. They wore fabulous frocks and flowery shirts and grew their hair long. They weren’t going to knuckle down and wear the uniform of their class. The rule book had been thrown away. A new age and a new value system had been born. People wanted to experiment and have fun. And, to use the old cliché, make love not war. As long as you were young, beautiful, and creative, the whole world was your oyster. It was a golden age, an exciting time to be alive.
—  Pattie Boyd describes London in the 1960s; Wonderful Tonight: George Harrison, Eric Clapton, and Me (2007)