From Portas to Eno: Lessons in Rethinking the High Street

When I look back on my years working with the Portas Review and the Future High Street Forum, I realise just how formative that period was — not only for me as a professional, but for the industry of placemaking in Britain. It was a moment when the decline of the high street became a national conversation, something that spilled out of trade press and town hall meetings and into the public imagination. For a short time, the high street was front-page news.

I had the privilege — and it genuinely was a privilege — to serve as one of Mary Portas’s advisors. My patch was wide: I worked across 60 or 70 different town teams, from single individuals running on nothing more than goodwill and determination, to well-established place management organisations and Business Improvement Districts (BIDs) with resources and infrastructure behind them. From London to the Midlands to the East, the variation was staggering. Each town centre had its own story, its own energy, and its own challenges.

What became clear very quickly was this: initial energy is not the same as long-term infrastructure. Many communities threw themselves into the Portas pilots with real passion. For some, it was the first time they’d been invited to shape the future of their own high street. But sustaining that enthusiasm was another matter. Without the right governance structures, without organisational support, without clear “guardrails” as I call them, much of the energy dissipated.

The Portas Moment

The Portas Review itself, published in 2011, was an extraordinary moment. Suddenly, high streets were political. Suddenly, government ministers were talking about market days, empty shops, and local traders. Portas’s language — saving the high street, breathing life back into town centres — gave people something to rally around. And the pilots that followed gave communities a platform, however uneven, to test ideas.

I admired a lot about the Review. First, its recognition that local authorities should act as enablers and facilitators, not as the sole drivers of change. That was an important shift. For too long, councils had been expected to carry town centres on their own shoulders, often without the resources or agility to make real transformation happen. Portas turned that on its head: the business community, local residents, traders, and other stakeholders were to take the lead, with councils creating the conditions. That principle still matters.

Second, the emphasis on activation — energising people, giving them ownership, bringing communities together. It aligned with my own instincts as a place manager. I’d spent years working with businesses, residents, and local groups, and I knew the raw potential that sits untapped in towns. The Portas Review, for all its flaws, helped unlock that.

But there were limitations. The Review was, at its core, retail-led. That was no surprise: Mary Portas was, after all, a retailer and merchandiser by background. She understood the shopper, the consumer, the transaction. And for a time, that made sense. Retail was still the anchor of the high street. But even in 2011, the warning signs were there. E-commerce was rising fast. Habits were shifting. To pin the future of the high street solely on consumption was to build on sand.

The pilots, too, revealed tensions. The more money involved — £100,000 for some of the larger projects — the more local authorities had to step in. Suddenly, what began as community-led became bureaucratic, tied up in procurement rules and committee processes. And inevitably, some of the pilots became showcases rather than true laboratories for change. Success was mixed.

The View from the Ground

Working with those 60–70 town teams gave me a ground-level view of the movement. In some towns, a single individual carried the entire project, juggling work, family, and voluntary commitment. In others, BIDs brought structure and resource, often outperforming expectations. But across the board, I saw the same challenges:

• Infrastructure gaps. Passion without governance rarely sustains itself. Without clear organisational models, even the most inspiring initiatives ran out of steam.

• Tension with local authorities. Councils wanted to help, but their involvement often shifted dynamics. Community-led became council-driven, and the spark dulled.

• Retail dependency. Too many plans still hinged on filling empty shops, on “getting the retail mix right,” without acknowledging the deeper structural shifts.

And yet, despite these issues, something important happened: people began to see the high street as theirs. The language of place management entered the mainstream. “Town teams” became part of the vernacular. People felt a sense of agency. That, in itself, was no small achievement.

The Business Lens

It’s worth pausing here to reflect on the business dimension. My own background is rooted in business communities: I’ve spent most of my professional life working with traders, entrepreneurs, and place-based enterprises. And I’ve always believed they are a driving force in town centres.

But even I can see the shift. Business alone is not enough anymore. Retail alone is not enough anymore. The need now is experience: spaces that are more than transactional, places that are about being, connecting, belonging. Consumption is part of the story, but it cannot be the whole story.

The decline of retail is plain to see. Vast “white elephants” — anchor stores, shopping centres, retail parks — now sit half-empty, dragging down entire town centres. And while some towns cling to the hope of a retail revival, I think it’s clear: the golden age of the high street as a purely retail environment is over.

Meanwhile, other trends compound the challenge. More people working from home. Less disposable income. Generations for whom alcohol is no longer the social lubricant it once was. Town centres now compete with Netflix, with gaming, with the infinite cultural options available at home. The context has changed, fundamentally.

Enter Brian Eno

Which brings me to Brian Eno.

When I first read his “Design Principles for the Street,” published in 2021, it felt like a revelation. Here was someone from outside the usual policy, retail, or local government world — an artist, a creative — offering a fresh lens on how we think about streets and places.

Eno’s principles resonated with me because they spoke to the experience of place rather than the consumption of place. They echoed things I had felt intuitively during my Portas years, but which the retail-led agenda didn’t always allow space for.

His first principle — “think like a gardener, not an architect” — is one I’ve carried with me ever since. The idea that you set conditions for growth, that you nurture, that you accept unpredictability, rather than designing every detail upfront. It’s how I’ve always believed towns should be managed. You invest in the soil, the sunlight, the water — governance, activation, resources — and then you let communities grow into it.

“Unfinished is fertile” struck a similar chord. Too often, towns chase completion: the masterplan, the redevelopment, the “done deal.” But real places are never done. Leaving things open, giving people space to contribute, to adapt, to shape — that’s what keeps places alive.

Other principles — “low rent, high life”; “make places easy to change”; “accommodate the very young and the very old” — all rang true. They captured, in simple language, the truths I’d witnessed on the ground. Affordability sparks creativity. Flexibility breeds vitality. Inclusivity creates love.

And above all, Eno’s insistence that culture and creativity are the “dark matter” of place — unseen, hard to define, but essential — spoke to my deepest instincts. Culture is not the garnish; it’s the glue. It’s what binds communities, gives identity, gives soul.

The Limits of Retail, the Power of Experience

Comparing Portas and Eno is instructive. The Portas Review put retail centre-stage, with community and culture as supporting actors. Eno flipped that script: culture, creativity, and experience became the starting point, with retail following as one of many outcomes.

Neither is entirely right or wrong. The Portas Review was of its time, responding to an urgent crisis in retail. Eno’s principles are more timeless, more philosophical. But taken together, they chart a path. They remind us that while consumption matters, it is culture, creativity, and community that sustain places in the long term.

What We Learned — and What We Missed

Looking back, I think the Portas pilots fell short not because the ideas were weak, but because the support structures weren’t there. Business rate reform was ducked, despite everyone knowing it was unsustainable. Bureaucracy was reduced in theory, but often increased in practice. Accessibility, safety, and inclusivity were talked about, but not always embedded.

And crucially, supermarkets and retail parks — the elephants in the room — were never properly challenged. We focused on revitalising town centres without addressing the forces draining them.

What we did achieve, though, was a cultural shift: the recognition that towns matter, that high streets matter, that people can shape them. That remains valuable.

Lessons for Today

Now, in 2025, the challenge is different. Town centres must compete not just with out-of-town retail, but with digital culture, with the comforts of home. That makes the experiential imperative stronger than ever.

From my perspective, the future lies in blending the pragmatism of Portas — governance, management, business-like operation — with the philosophy of Eno — creativity, openness, culture, experience. We need both guardrails and gardens.

My Takeaways

If I had to distil what I’ve learned from being part of this journey, it would be this:

1. Governance matters. Passion alone is not enough. Communities need structures, support, and resources to sustain transformation.

2. Culture is the glue. Without creativity, art, and shared experiences, towns are just retail parks in disguise.

3. Flexibility beats rigidity. Places that are easy to adapt will outlast places that are locked down.

4. Inclusion is non-negotiable. Design for the most vulnerable — the very young, the very old, the disabled — and everyone benefits.

5. Affordability sparks life. High rents and rates choke creativity. Lowering barriers allows communities to flourish.

Closing Thoughts

When I stood in meetings as a Portas advisor, I often felt torn. On the one hand, I saw the power of activating communities, of energising traders, of bringing people together. On the other hand, I saw the limits of retail as the central organising principle of a town centre.

Years later, reading Brian Eno’s design principles gave me language for what I’d always believed: that towns are living systems, not finished products. That unfinished is fertile. That culture is dark matter. That we should think like gardeners.

For me, the journey from Portas to Eno is more than a professional arc — it’s a personal one. It’s taught me to see places not as problems to be solved, but as gardens to be nurtured. And in that, I find hope.

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned in twenty years of placemaking, it’s this: places are never done. And that’s their greatest strength.