Waiting for the bus, the rain pelting down, I nipped in for shelter to a clothes shop I hadn’t heard of, expecting it to be dire: I was, after all, waiting for the No 13 right by Temple Fortune Lane.
Yet within the 12 minutes I had to kill before the bus came, I’d bought a floaty pink dress with soft cotton bust area in pastel, and spaghetti-style straps (a life-saver on hot days); two ribbed tanks in blue and grey-beige (perfect coverage and fit) and some obscenely comfortable shorts (elasticated waste), baggy and grey but textured and sort of cool.
The place was called Speedway, was staffed by a smart South African lady, and almost everything in it was £35-£50. I’ve been back an embarrassing numbers of times since, buying three pairs of £50 jeans – the best I’ve ever worn in terms of comfort and cut – most recently.
I could have gone into The Bank, whose sister shop is in St John’s Wood, which sells a selection of clothing, accessories and bags from the likes of Farm Rio, Etro, Veronica Beard, Hale Bob and 7 For All Mankind. But that’s for a woman with more cash to spend than myself.
At any rate, as I stepped through the rain onto the packed bus, I had a startling thought: has Temple Fortune transformed under our noses into Jewish north London’s answer to Bond Street?
Perhaps it’s not ready for a Fendi or a Hermes, but Temple Fortune, the redoubt of old ladies and funny old men with thick eastern European accents past and present, is quietly evolving.
It is not necessarily gentrifying, but it is definitely becoming a bit glossier and more dynamic.
“Temple Fortune is great,” said Becca, a mum and lawyer who lives in Muswell Hill but takes her kids to choir near Henlys Corner. “Whenever I leave them to sing I always go off and get bags full of carbs.”
Like me, you may have strong and settled ideas about the stretch of road between Golders Green and Henlys Corner, running parallel to swathes of the Suburb.
Mine stem from early childhood memories of going to the Waitrose there with my Bamberg-born, Suburb-dwelling grandmother, to buy little white bratwurst among other goodies. There was nothing glamorous about it.
“Temple Fortune was little old ladies, end of,” a local GP I met queuing for challah, agreed. “But now I actually enjoy coming to work; there’s loads to browse and enjoy.”
For many years there wasn’t. When I met my first Israeli boyfriend at a party in east London in my twenties, and found out he worked for cash at the Kosher Paradise supermarket on Temple Fortune, it was certainly not a turn-on. When I visited him in the shop, I didn’t hanker to stroll on and see what else was there. Nowadays, I would.
Now, it’s not that Temple Fortune has suddenly vaulted from zero to a hundred. There was always a parallel reality to the external dowdiness, at least where food was concerned. Some of the very best baked goods in London are purveyed at Daniels.
Here is a place whose cache is best understood by everyone from local housewives wearing wigs and mechanics to the suave professionals who drive up from Hampstead and Belsize Park to nab the freshest challah on a Friday.
The fishmonger, Sam Stoller, is also a destination for those who know the value of well-priced fresh fish.
Because this is not Belsize Park, there is none of the pretence, the silly £10 tins of this or that Spanish brand of sardines or £5 bags of crisps – there is just lots of fresh fish, laid out on ice, and fishmongers from a family-run business, and in the fridges there are spreads. Which is as it should be.
But Temple Fortune really is about carbs, and sweet treats, reflecting its Mitteleuropean soul.
One of the best is Joie de Vie, where my chivalrous grandpa would go to pick up almond and lemon tarts for us, and where I still, after running errands, pop for delicious patisserie that has oodles more character and taste than Gail’s next door (yes, of course there’s a Gail’s). Sir Keir Starmer chose Joie de Vivre for a quick bite and photo op in February 2025.
There are newer entrants to the food game. Bread, by Hendon is what Delicious Magazine recently called a “kosher hotspot” – and it is always packed, despite being pricey.
I’ve also heard that all the cool Jewish mums – the yummies – drive down from Whetstone and Barnet for a new nail salon called The Nail Story, which is where I plan to take my first foray into the world of acrylics.
Like many, I am bowed down by the soaring costs of everything from coffee to shoes (Temple Fortune has two standouts: Daniel Footwear and a Naot) and so I am more than willing to reorient myself, and my consumerism, northwards.
After all, where else can you get the best French tarts, the best challah, the best fish, the best jeans and an Etro scarf in one fell swoop? Quite.
To get more from Life, click here to sign up for our free Life newsletter.