Brooms & Bangles Marketplace

Brooms & Bangles was created in 1967, when the UK’s pagan and occult revival was swelling from quiet backroom circles into a full cultural movement. The leylines beneath London—long bruised by centuries of magical dormancy—had begun to stir again, drawing new witches, warlocks, hedge magi, chaos practitioners, cunning folk, and ceremonial occultists into the open.   Books were easy. Herbs could be grown. But where was one meant to find river clay from a sacred healing spring, or a wand carved from lightning-struck oak, or griffon hair without risking one’s soul in a fae bargain?   Until then, the only places such materials could be purchased were the old Goblin Markets—beautiful, dangerous, predatory bazaars where humans traded on fae terms and paid fae prices. Some returned with treasures. Some returned cursed. Some didn’t return.   The Whitmore Family recognized the need for a safe, modern, human-run magical marketplace, a place where practitioners could trade, craft, and experiment without falling prey to goblin loopholes or aristocratic magical monopolies.   From that vision, the largest magical market in the UK—and perhaps all of Europe—was born.

Over the decades, the pocket dimension housing Brooms & Bangles has shifted, stretched, and quietly reinvented itself, growing in tandem with the magical community it serves. What began as a handful of stalls beneath flickering witchlight has expanded into an entire shopping district, its pathways branching and curling like living leyline roots.   New stalls and permanent shops have appeared as the market’s boundaries flex with demand—sometimes by deliberate Whitmore enchantment, sometimes because the dimension itself “decided” it had room for one more tea witch, charm-smith, or potion-brewer. Modern conveniences have slipped in as well: a food court, communal spell-work areas, safer storage vaults, climate-controlled apothecary alleys, and even a few magically stabilized rest zones for those prone to dimensional vertigo.   Despite all this growth, the market has preserved much of its original 1967 character—psychedelic signage, mismatched brickwork, hand-painted stall fronts, and that unmistakable hum of Whitmore chaos just under the floorboards.   The result is an ever-evolving, ever-strange bazaar: modern enough to navigate, old enough to enchant, and sprawling enough that even regulars swear the layout changes when they’re not looking.

Brooms & Bangles is architectural chaos with a British accent. At its heart sits the unmistakable silhouette of late-1960s London—brick arches, painted signage, narrow lanes, tiled storefronts, and that peculiar mixture of charm and grime that defined the era. But as the market expanded across decades, each new addition brought its own cultural timestamp.   Psychedelic murals from the '70s glow beside sleek ’80s glass-fronted apothecaries. A handful of neo-pagan longhouse designs from the ’90s nestle up against minimalist hex-shaped kiosks that only appeared sometime after 1995 A Japanese talisman stall sits under a wrought-iron Victorian balcony. A chaos-mages tattoo shop occupies a structure that looks like it was folded into existence during a fever dream.   None of these pieces should fit together. Yet somehow—they do.   The pocket dimension itself acts as a quiet architect, knitting disparate designs into something coherent. Walls shift slightly to accommodate new walkways. Rooflines bend. Floor tiles re-arrange into helpful (or mischievous) patterns. Nothing is static; everything feels lived-in, layered, and lightly enchanted.   What results is a patchwork district where time periods overlap, cultures mingle, and the magical signature of every shopkeeper leaves a subtle mark on the environment. The air hums with old charms worked into the beams, sigils hidden in the plaster, and the faint scent of incense or ozone depending on which alley you take.   It shouldn’t work. And yet it does—beautifully, chaotically, unmistakably Brooms & Bangles

The first line of defense is the entryway itself, a tightly warded threshold disguised behind three ordinary brick arches. Layers of seeming, glamour, and subtle misdirection cloak the portal, ensuring it remains invisible to anyone who hasn’t yet learned to open their magical senses. To mundane eyes—and to magical dabblers without control—the arches look like nothing more than half-forgotten Victorian masonry. Those of weak will simply glance past it, their minds sliding away as though the spot were irrelevant.   Only individuals with a moderate innate magical charge can cross the boundary unaided. This threshold—old, deliberate, and intricately-crafted—acts as a natural filter, keeping out the curious, the clumsy, and the dangerously untrained. It also blocks most non-human troublemakers by default; the majority of vampires, werewolves, fae, and other potent but non spell casting supernatural beings aswell as other non-magic users cannot enter without a Special Day Pass, issued only after vetting by the market wardens.   Additional, quieter protections hum beneath the cobblestones: sigil-locks woven into the foundation, chaos wards that interfere with hostile enchantments, and a set of ancient barrier-runes the Whitmores purchased decades ago and promptly repurposed without reading the instructions.   The result is a marketplace that is open, thriving, and accessible—yet protected from the kinds of beings who might turn a shopping district into a hunting ground.

Founded in 1967 by Nigel Whitmore the First, Brooms & Bangles began as a simple solution to a growing magical need. In the early days it was nothing more than a protected doorway and a cleared space in a young pocket dimension, where spellcasters could rent a table, lay out their herbs, books, charms, and oddments, and sell their craft during the weekend flea markets. Those early gatherings—half occult fair, half chaotic jumble sale—remain a beloved tradition, still held every Saturday and Sunday.   As magic surged back into British culture and more practitioners emerged, the humble market quickly became a cornerstone of the UK’s arcane economy. The stalls grew into permanent shops, the lanes multiplied, and the pocket dimension stretched to accommodate new demand. Cunning folk, chaos mages, potion-brewers, wand-makers, and talisman-smiths who began with little more than a folding table and a handful of spells now operate some of the most respected magical businesses in Europe.   Through every stage of its expansion, the Whitmore family played a pivotal role. They funded young artisans, offered generous grants to shopkeepers, and made it clear that independent magic thrives best when the community supports its own. Their stewardship transformed Brooms & Bangles from a scrappy occult market into a vibrant, iconic landmark of modern British sorcery.   Today, it stands not just as a place to buy things—but as a symbol of the UK’s magical resurgence, built on community, creativity, and Whitmore whimsy.

Among magical communities, Brooms & Bangles isn’t merely a market—it's a destination, a rite of passage, and, for many, a pilgrimage. Spellcasters from every corner of the world visit not only to shop but to experience the place: its atmosphere, its shifting lanes, its strange comforts, and its unmistakable Whitmore signature.   For young witches and warlocks, a first trip to Brooms & Bangles is as formative as crafting one’s first wand or completing a first proper spell. The market offers far more than rows of stalls and shopfronts. Visitors find:   Cafés and restaurants run by kitchen witches, where every meal is seasoned with a little magic   Spell salons, magical tattoo parlors, charm-cleaning services, apothecary clinics, familiar groomers, pet shops, and a dozen niche crafts besides   Quiet corners stabilized for meditation, trance work, and spell recovery   Performance stages where bards, song witches, and other magic practitioners display their art, song, ritual, or controlled mayhem   To many international visitors, it’s of the few places in Europe where magic feels open, alive, and normalized—free from the suffocating disbelief of the mundane world and safely separate from supernatural predators who treat human mages as prey or bargaining chips.   Brooms & Bangles is the one place where a practitioner can walk openly without masking who they are—where a chaos mage can buy sigils, a druid can purchase river clay, a necromancer can pick up ethically sourced bones, and a witch can sip enchanted coffee without the world pressing down around her.   It thrives not only as a shopping district, but as a cultural hub, a magical playground, and a sanctuary carved into the hidden heart of London.