History of Dodo

A bigger shop at 185 Westbourne Grove, in then still unfashionable Notting Hill, brought her to the attention of ‘renowned illustration and advertising legend’ Bob Gill. From him the word spread to a galaxy of established designers, typographers, painters, all hotly pursued by the press, spreading the word further. In the mid 1960s, for the bright and best, Liz’s Dodo was that ‘hidden gem’, a must to visit. They came for the shear exuberance of loud bill-board advertising, discarded tin signs, salvaged pub mirrors. And they came as much for her personality and for her love of the unusual things she sold. She made friends with customers and her employees, who enjoyed her side-splitting dead-pan dark humour.

From Dodo Terence Conran hired giant fascia lettering for his Ideal Home stand prior to opening Habitat in 1964. Anthony Armstrong Jones (Lord Snowden) brought his balaclava-camouflaged wife. Peter Blake bought pieces for his collages while working on the Sergeant Pepper album cover. True to form, it was Liz’s initiative that led to his painting, the artwork for a mass-market product, Babe Rainbow. The resulting tin-print still hangs in many homes in dozens of countries, thus completing the Pop Art circle. As guest editor of a 1960s edition of Queen magazine, Bob Gill devoted four pages to the wonders on display at Dodo. Richard Branson haunted the shop in pursuit of one of Liz’s assistants, his future wife, Joan Templeton. Robert Opie, founder of the Museum of Brands said, ‘Dodo was a treasure trove of excitement, and Liz an inspiration, happy days’. There was more, much more.

The world caught up in the 1970s. Partly as a result of Liz’s success, Old Advertising had become mainstream. This prompted a move into another of her favourites, old clothes: always colourful, sometimes tatty. Other people called it Vintage. And then she returned to what she knew best, this time to specialise in large advertising posters. Selling from Alfies Antique Market she made more friends and added hundreds, probably thousands, of customers worldwide. Liz retired when she was 80, only to continue making sales online.

Throughout her life Liz has been a selfless inspiration to friends, boyfriends, colleagues and even the odd husband or three – graphics, painting, illustration and, of course, collecting were all involved. It was a rare talent, the knack of liberating other people’s creativity. Liz was one of the earliest members of the Ephemera Society, established in 1975. She contributed articles, attended their biannual fairs, and was much loved by colleagues for her support and advice.

In the last few years her bipolar condition, once a source of energy, began to undermine her work. Her distress was eased by generous financial and moral support from her younger brother, Charles Edwards. Her daughter, Pandora, returned again from her life in Greece to reassure Lizzie and this time oversee the move from her delightful Queens Park flat. Liz’s last year was spent loved and cared for by her son, Giles, and his family in Sussex. Her posters continue to sell from the website Giles built for her.