ELLA WINDSOR - ARTICLES

THE MAIL ON SUNDAY
NIGHT AND DAY MAGAZINE
Talking About My Generation

The sight of lanky, wild-eyed George Scott loafing along the Kings Road with a vast truncheon of meat over his shoulder would chill the most streetwise Londoner.

Certainly, when I first met him I immediately regretted my aversion to body alarms and ineptitude at avoiding eye contact. A couple of nervy enquiries later, however, and I was forced to reconsider. In fact, the lad roaming Chelsea serves a sumptuous purpose: his ingenious one-man Spanish ham delivery service, Jamon Baby!

Scott is just one of several enterprising individuals I have encountered recently. Others include a brother and sister team fashioning handbags out of their mother's custom-made embroidered cloth, two female friends launching a charity to promote healthcare in Malawi and the founders of a trendy Hoxton gallery.

Four years ago, when I left the UK to study at Brown University in America, the classic work talk was of banking for boys, temping for girls. If you wanted to be 'alternative', it was the lure of nightclub entertaining and dot com companies that led one astray. Returning last month, I'd expected to find fellow schoolmates and acquaintances contemplating (if not already submerged in) the more standard of City positions. Instead, to my delight, I find my peers are veering into the most original and innovative realms. More self-assured than their predecessors, they are declining to engage with big business after graduation and instead are controlling their own careers.

If ever there was an advertisement for following up individual ideas it is George Scott. 'There are many things I would like to do in life,' he says, 'and I think you should do as many things as you wish. There was a stage when I wanted to become a painter.' Scott has English parents but was raised in Spain. He has only been living in London for eight months.

'I truly believe that Spain has some absolutely fantastic products,' he says. 'I have Spain in my heart and I carry it everywhere I go.' Scott's jamon is known more precisely as pata negra iberico de bellota. He claims his acorn-infused ham is so full of flavour that even to cook it would be a crime. Besides, he tells me, since it has already been dried for two years, not only is it delicious but utterly safe to eat raw. 'The best thing about this kind of ham, is that it can last for two months once it's open and while still sealed it should be fine for a year.' Every part of a jamon may be used up. The fat is good for stews; the bone for stock. Scott, 21, sells his hams for £25 to £30 per kilo (the more reserve months the more expensive) and includes a manual and a lesson on carving with every leg. 'It's pretty easy to import this jamon within the EU because it's cured meat and can't create any sort of bacteria.' It seems this little piggy goes straight to market.

'When I was 16 my mother had a Christmas sale to promote our little hotel in Spain. I thought it would be a good idea to make an extra bit of cash by selling some jamon. So I put my savings together and bought 20 jamons. To my surprise, I sold all of them in two days. All of a sudden people were asking me for jamons and I was getting offers to provide restaurants.' Scott has spent the past four months travelling back and forth between Chelsea and Heathrow, ensuring each ham has landed safely (pigs do fly) from Seville. He then drives them home where they 'all lie in the living room', and waits for a customer to call. As soon as each ham is in Scott's hands, he is, quite literally, on his own. Considering each leg weighs 7.5kg, it seems a miracle the ham itself does not take over Scott.

'My next project is to bring even more Spanish products into England,' he says. 'I would like to open up a Spanish bar that's right on the street, so you have to stand outside. You could have a little aperitif before lunch. I would only sell Spanish sherry, beer in small glasses, olives, and jamon. I would serve the jamon on a piece of cardboard from a box.'

Damian Barr, author of Get It Together: Surviving Your Quarterlife Crisis (Hodder and Stoughton, Pounds 10.99), nails the shifting attitude in twentysomethings towards a more independent style of work. 'When researching my book I found grads were frustrated with the quality of life after university,' says Barr. 'Increasingly, my generation is finding new work styles. We're freelancing, setting up our own business, running more than one career simultaneously- anything to avoid the nine-to-five trap.'

Brother and sister entrepreneurial team Richard and Jenny Perlhagen (24 and 23 respectively), both recent graduates, have opted to return to the family firm with a twist. Two months ago they began Perl, their own bag and accessory label, to decorate the trendy yet elegant. Richard administers the business side of things while Jenny designs the bags. They work well into the evenings in their office above Chelsea Textiles, the family's shop.

Chelsea Textiles is a paradise of embroidery, where the finest stitches serenely adorn bags, curtains and cushions. 'The idea for Perl evolved naturally from my mother's company,' says Richard. 'She has specialised in custom-made, hand-embroidered fabrics for over 12 years. We are using her experience and archives, but creating products for a younger market.'

Certainly, the embroidery remains the most appetising-aspect of the products, but the young Perlhagens' pieces are a jollier medley of bright colours and comic animal designs. My favourite are the fuchsia and orange silk Chinese takeout bags, embroidered with pretty dragonflies and insects. 'Most of the embroidery designs come from old textiles,' says Jenny. 'I then design the bag to compliment the embroidery. For instance, I have a collection of antique, Chinese, childrens' hats that are embroidered with exotic insects and creatures, which I imitate more simply in my own work.' Jenny has also finished a range of travel bags, drawstring cotton pieces displaying cheeky pets investigating strewn laundry. 'We try to keep the price of our bags as low as possible by simplifying designs and using local materials, says Richard.

The Perl bags costs from £60 to £120, and are embroidered by highly skilled workers in the Perlhagen's factory in Delhi, India. 'Most people turn to India to mass-produce goods because of the cheap labour,' says Richard. 'We chose Delhi because of the talent inherent in the region in producing beautiful embroidery.' The embroiderers are predominantly men, whose elaborate and ancient art is directed by a 'master'. Seated upon the highest floor of the building, a long beard flailing in the air, he draws up preliminary lines of design which the others will complete with immaculate stitches.

The Perlhagen siblings are not alone in their respect for the ways of a foreign culture. While their business depends on the skill of their embroiderers, another young duo is helping an African community to realise its own initiatives. The financial rewards may be negligible, but the experience is unsurpassable.

A year ago, Michelle Knorr and Hannah Cameron, both 24, founded the charitable trust House of Good Health to promote health education in Malawi. Knorr had graduated from Brown University with a BA in international relations; Cameron went to Manchester where she studied history. They visited Malawi when they were travelling, and were at once struck by its beauty and decay. The country, one of the poorest in the world, is riddled with disease and lacks the staff and resources to combat it. The average life expectancy in Malawi is 36, and about 16 per cent of the population are infected with HIV. Two million children have been orphaned. Worst of all for Cameron and Knorr are the myths circulating in Malawian culture about the nature of HIV, which the people accept as an unchangeable reality.

'We're aware of being among many privileged people with a strong sense of not doing anything worthwhile,' says Knorr. 'People always talk about doing something helpful- so just do it! Charity work doesn't have to be so righteous. It shouldn't be about the whole do-gooder thing, but a realistic, successful effect. It can be cool too- we've had DJs supporting us with free sets at fundraisers.' Right from the start they struggled to find a realistic method of health aid. Responding to doubts about mainstream charities involved in development work, they decided to focus on supporting community initiatives. 'We wanted to get away from the whole sympathy approach,' she says, 'and allow Malawians to realise their own ideas; to teach each other by example.' The project is based on the simple idea of a chain of education. Cameron and Knorr are the instigators, and their theory is then passed between the locals. Early on, they observed the strong sense of solidarity among Malawians, which they intend to perpetuate. 'There is so much that we could learn from the Malawian culture ourselves,' says Knorr. 'In fact, the idea for the trust was partly inspired by the third line of the Malawian national anthem: "Put down our enemies: hunger, disease and envy." 'The three threats pretty much explain the key Malawian values. There's a very communal sense of living and sharing, which is a positive basis to build from.

Obviously, disease is a horrendous reality there, but the sense of community makes many Malawians willing to co-operate with a good idea. As there is no television, entertainment for the community must be creative. One local group travels the area, performing educational plays, which are for everyone, not just the kids.' One of Cameron and Knorr's aims is to get local entrepreneurs to be effective. They have teamed up with Peter Mawanga, a local music teacher whose every class is conducted in song. He encourages his pupils not only to play their instruments but also to make them. 'The problem, as always, is money,' says Knorr. 'Despite having great ideas of how to solve their own problems, most Malawians can't dedicate extra time to social work because they are struggling just to survive.'

While Cameron and Knorr deal with the enormity of their task, two other bold young entrepreneurs contend with the hype their new modern art gallery has generated. Eight months ago, Rodolphe von Hofmannsthal and Tom Hanbry set up the Dicksmith Gallery, behind Hoxton Square, east London, in response to the success of last year's experimental debut exhibition, Group Vs Show, which featured work from six diverse artists including the up-and-coming Natsuki Uruma and the already established Keith Coventry.

Hofmannsthal graduated from the International Centre of Photography in New York; Hanbry from the Chelsea School of Art. They met at a gallery opening, and are both driven by 'the need to surround yourself with something you love'. Their debut exhibition was quickly followed by Sexentricity, the main feature of which was a collection of chubby, naked, ceramic Japanese girls lying on their backs on concrete skateboards with their legs in the air, by Natsuki Uruma. The show attracted more than 1,000 visitors.

During my visit to the gallery, a drawing made of dust is on display, as well as a delicate Plasticine work of a tank firing a phallus. Contemporary art is a dubious arena. The young gallery owners, embracing 'new and different mediums all the time', have braced themselves against the incessant criticism that they admit can only be expected. 'You're forced to overcome self-consciousness,' says Hofmannsthal. 'Basically, your balls are on the line.' In the longer term, they hope to collaborate with galleries in New York, Tokyo and Russia, exchanging artists and bringing them to a larger audience. Right now, they are planning their next exhibition, Powerlessly Hardcore, which will open in September. 'We are hosting our first video show, which will be spectacular,' says Hofmannsthal. 'Meiro Koizumi is flying from Tokyo to show his new works. This will be his first solo show and the first since he won the 2001 ICA Beck's Futures Prize.'

I'm in complete agreement with my generation's philosophy of pursuing one's interests. One of the things I loved about my university was that it allowed us to pursue the most disparate subjects. How can you go wrong when the options range from psychology to Ghanaian drumming? While I did specialise in one area, literature, I also took a course in education that was fantastically inspiring and urged me to think about teaching as a career option. I've also considered the theatre whether acting, directing or writing scripts as well as radio, art and the circus. Writing, however, is something I shall always do. It's important to experiment, so I'm open for trying any genre. When I was little, I used to write poetry and spidery letters to friends. Now I'm more interested in fiction, mainly short stories, although I'm keeping up with limericks too. When I left Brown I put together a collection of short stories I'd written over those four years. It received some surprising reactions. The best was from the professor who thought my characters were spiders in a web.

All these entrepreneurs share common characteristics-aside from youth and inexperience. It seems to me that quite apart from pursuing their passions, these innovators are deliberately deciding to be their own bosses, following no one's rules. Each of them is forging their own path, in their own time, and remaining their own master.

For Jamon Baby!, call 0770 870 8739, or email yuyiscott@hotmail.com; for Perl call 0207 584 5544, or visit www.perlofchelsea.com; for House of Good Health, visit www.houseofgoodhealth.org, or email houseofgood health@hotmail.com; for the Dicksmith Gallery, call 0207 253 0663, or email dicksmithgallery@hotmail.com.