Labour and Wait

Beautiful store with a lot of kitchen items, buckets, homeware., old school bottles, garden equipment …
I bought a lovely black enamel milk pan !!!

The stuff is great. Lots of lovely gift ideas and cool /​quirky home pieces with an easy to navigate website and check out process.
That said their customer service is appalling. I only go back to this store because I like the stuff. Both times I have ordered things from here something has gone wrong. Last time the shipping took over a week, (despite paying extra for next day delivery)
When I rang up and asked if I could have a tracking number, I was spoken to so rudely. It was almost as if I was bothering them by even enquiring about my late package. I spoke to a girl firstly who didn’t have much to say and then a man who was doing his best impression of a wolf huffing and puffing saying he couldn’t help, and ‘I’m sure it will arrive soon.’ I have to say this is my first time ever writing any from of complaint, but when you have spent money getting a number of garments and then spent further money getting it on a next day service, the least someone could do is provide a tracking number or some kind of reassurance and apology. I understand things go wrong, but the disinterested attitude was really irritating and infact condescending.
Despite this a year later I returned and made another large order. when it eventually arrived (a week late again) one of the items I had ordered was in the wrong colour. I sent an email and heard nothing back. I’m not expecting much joy and will most likely just keep the incorrect item to save the hassle.
I know it won’t stop people going to the shop, but it is such a shame that the service by the people working there cannot reflect the beautiful items on sale.
I hope that this can be looked into as cliché as it may sound customer service is important and it’s very off putting when staff are rude and uninterested.

This street is sort of the London version of Harajuku but like the nice design-​conscious bit, not the bit right out of the station. I love it but it’s also perfectly ridiculous. I love this shop for example, which curates a collection of things I would want to put in a space but all at prices I can’t really afford unless it’s just been pay day.
Which, again, is kind of the theme of this street. I’m going to digress for a second… I was sitting outside Albion last week and we decided to look up the rent prices after seeing a for let sign just above Dishoom and to be perfectly honest after seeing the search results… I totally get why the shops on this street exist. Like £60 white t-​shirt shop which will remain nameless… The immediate residents probably don’t think like I do when they buy their basics.
But it’s all really cool though. You still want that t-​shirt.
And I still want these overpriced lightbulbs.
Since I don’t live above it, I live down the road from it, sometimes I have to just browse until it’s pay day.

I like Alex S’ review on this place… it’s what led me over here in the first place:
(The Labour and Wait manifesto includes phrases like «we believe in a simple, honest approach to design» and they explicitly tout a happy partnership between aesthetics and function.” — That’s all totally commendable, but the real point here is: the stuff is frackin’ cool.)
Thank you, Alex!
I like home stuff. I’m in nesting mode (no, not having a baby — just happy to have a real flat that I am going to live in for longer than a month. I spent 1.5 years skipping around and now I’m ready to plant myself!) — so I like (scratch, love) Labour and Wait.
Let’s be clear, it’s ridiculously adorable. It’s all functional. Garden pencils, cookery (oh drool, I’ll be back for the lavender and avocado colored pots), cleaning items, tea towels, soaps, matches… it’s like a camping supply store for people that want to camp at home. And done well!
My loot: aforementioned garden pencil (why? I don’t know, I needed one pencil), 2 stone cup/​jars for oddities in the kitchen, two new ceramic dog bowls in a dark tan color (needed an upgrade, pooch is more refined now and doesn’t like the cartoon paw prints), and a book on Columbia Road. Not bad, not bad!
Yes it can be a bit pricey, but basically you are paying a toll for them making you look cool when your friends come over and admire how you’re able to be so practical, yet stylish at the same time.
Labour and Wait, but don’t. Go. It’s a treasure and worth a stop in, even if just to look!

The Labour and Wait manifesto includes phrases like «we believe in a simple, honest approach to design» and they explicitly tout a happy partnership between aesthetics and function.
That’s all totally commendable, but the real point here is: the stuff is frackin’ cool.
Kitchen goods, bath goods, general «home stuff», clothing; it’s all packed into this small space. Want an idea of specifics? A dark navy mariner’s sweater so tightly and expertly knit that it could wick water away. A funnel for measuring dry goods with a vintage imprint. Boiled wool slippers. Beautiful tools. Chunky wooden pencils. Simply printed door mats. Hefty doorstops made of knotted twine.
Beautiful store design, great staff. Though not inexpensive, an immediate go-​to for any gifting need I have (for others, for… erm…myself).
Unilocal note: for all of their «old timey» appeal, Labour and Wait also has a great website if you’re unable to physically pop in (
)

As others have said, this store isn’t really about need. It is about want. Or perceived need, as you might call it in the heat of the moment when you decide your current mesuring cups are in some way deficient and you must have these cooler looking, £15 ones.
In the area? Stop by. Need a gift? Stop by. Have £20 you need to spend on something strangely utilitarian yet useless? Stop by. I’ll be in the back oogling random candle holders.

Wonderful shop, I can’t wait to kit my whole kitchen out with everything from Labour & Wait! You can’t go wrong with a bit of retro minimalism.

Every time I walk down Redchurch Street, I’m drawn into this pokey homewares shop, mostly due to the typeface on its façade. I like a good sans serif typeface, it’s true.
Inside, you’ll find an intriguing spread of vintage-​feeling gizmos and doodads for your home — all of them something you’ll invariably feel your house will not be complete without even though you’d never previously considered the purchase of a pie funnel (
) and will probably never use it. At least you can say you are in possession of a very jaunty pie funnel. Very jaunty, indeed.
And you’ll also find Breton striped shirts. A lot of Breton striped shirts. In all sorts of colours. Kind of weird, that. But all part of Labour and Wait’s charm.
Just 3 stars because, well, it’s a little bit spendy.

I really love this shop! I stumbled upon it on my last trip to London and Just can’t wait to get back there!

I’ve been meaning to visit Labour and Wait ever since I read an article sometime ago in The Guardian profiling couples who had started up new and innovative businesses in the East End, and the L&W concept really struck a cord. You can be assured the new shop in Redchurch Street sells the same functional products for the kitchen, home and garden as the existing shop on Cheshire St, however I believe L&W are moving from Cheshire St to Redchurch St in the not-​too-​distant future.
For too long, consumers have been lulled into a false sense of security with large, «convenient» hardware stores such as Homebase and B&Q etc. who unfortunately have, over the years got away with cheap replicas of good quality homeware goods. L&W moves away from this methodolgy and focuses fully on sustainable goods made in enamel, stainless steel and wood, rather than plastic and throw-​away alternatives. The shop is minimalist in style, but all the products are displayed in a creative and alternative way, which I’d liken a little to the layout of Muji stores.
As most shoppers today, I am mindful of what I buy having an effect on our environment and planet, but love L&W’s ethos. I especially love the enamel kitchen sets, glass jugs, butter dishes and stainless steel buckets and watering cans. True classics!
Now, don’t get me wrong, you can’t get anywhere near the vast selection (though often poor and low quality) of hardware and homeware products from L&W that you get in chain hardware stores, but what you do get (as the blackboard outside the shop and web home page state!) is «high quality, traditional goods for the home», with the added bonus of browsing a low-​tech shop and experiencing a low stress retail experience. Now that has to be worth a trip to Shoreditch any day of the week!

lovely selection of home goods, but the hours make it hard to shop.

Superlative shopping at its finest, Labour and Wait can make any mundane task appealing, desirable, and dare I say… sexy.
Sweeping? Be sure to get sexy with *this* dustpan. It will change your life. Speaking of dust, wouldn’t you like to get frisky with an ostrich feather duster? You know you need it. And there are certainly multiple uses for all this twine in such a sleek and savvy holding case.
Fine, so perhaps Labour and Wait is about a million notches more understated than I, but when you inject this much 50s influenced style into something as utilitarian as a home and garden shop, you’ve gotta give credit where credit is due. These fine folks have me lusting over a pie steamer, so you know it’s gotta be something special.

The first review of this shop made me laugh out loud: «middle age signed, sealed and delivered» — brilliant but worrying as I love Labour and Wait.
If you are the kind of person who, when travelling, always visits the local kitchenware store; or gets your glassware from Finland or orders Sori Yanagi tongs from Japan (rather annoyingly Labour and Wait now stock them so that was a wasted courier charge) this is perfect. It has all the classic items that work so well; perfect enamel pans, a superlative tin dustpan (with the thinest lip I have ever come across) and a good welcome mat.
Of course it isn’t cheap, but oh so classic.
Price — £12 for a doormat

This store is middle age signed, sealed and delivered in one room. I don’t even know what half the stuff they sell is, but I found myself, literally minutes away from Christmas, neck deep in a credit crunch and scrabbling around trying to buy an £18 colander.
They do sell lots of lovely house hold bits and bobs but until I have a house, Labrador and a child called Mimi Fifi Orchid Clooney (a girl can dream) I wont be buying anything from here. It’s a personal thing, possibly connected to being a huge consumerist ass hole whilst having a huge problem with consumerism.
For me, buying a £300 pair of shoes is wrong but necessary, where as buying two plain white enamel breakfast bowls for £16 seems ridiculous. I am aware that this statement is ridiculous in itself, in fact, I just don’t want to talk about it anymore. I will say though, that this shop is lovely, but I prefer Ikea.

I traveled all the way from Paris to buy two egg coddlers for £15 EACH from this shop.
Ok, maybe I was in London for other reasons (like really delicious beer and English books) but I did make the trek over here for the above mentioned egg coddlers. I know that sounds crazy, but these egg coddlers are special.
Like the shop, the coddlers are somewhat spare in design (the coddlers: clear glass with a metal clip to hold on the lid; the shop: white walls, plain wood floors and shelves of delightfully plain and painfully practical items). After the tumult of Brick Lane, Labour & Wait was a tranquil little oasis of order, natural materials and lots of handy kitchen, garden and cleaning supplies, many of which cannot be located elsewhere (example: these fabulous Bauhaus design coddlers), at least not without buying them in plastic.
My only complaint was that some items are displayed and you have to ask for them (my egg coddlers for example) while others are on the floor and you can just pick them up and take them to the counter for purchase. They’re all mixed in together, so there’s no way to tell what is just display and what is the only remaining item. Initially I thought that there was only one egg coddler left (panic!). Fortunately, they were just in the back, along with the cast iron mortar and pestle that my husband was fondling.
That being said, I’ll definitely be back. I need more egg coddlers for when guests visit (and that manual espresso maker is calling my name). I could order them shipped but then again, who doesn’t love an excuse to go to London?