More than just a nightclub, The Haçienda was a movement: bold, chaotic and beautifully DIY. In The Haçienda Threads, Rebecca and Peter Hook, together with Paul Tierney, piece together the club’s legacy through powerful imagery and first-hand accounts, capturing a time when music, fashion and rebellion collided on Manchester’s dancefloors to create something unforgettable.
Born from an idea for a coffee table book, The Haçienda Threads captures the full spirit of the infamous Haçienda through evocative photographs and first-hand stories from those who lived it — musicians, DJs, fashion designers, live performers, clubbers and staff.
Founded in 1982, The Haçienda became more than a nightclub — it was the heartbeat of a generation that literally danced the night away. The club’s architecture was like nothing else in the UK, exchanging the traditional visual cues of nightlife for a post-industrial look with pigeon blue walls and yellow-black stripes.
From Joy Division to New Order and Haçienda Nights
During the talk, Paul Tierney, Rebecca and Peter Hook had a vivid and engaging conversation reflecting on The Haçienda’s legacy. Rebecca Hook and her husband Peter Hook, renowned bassist for Joy Division and subsequently New Order, witnessed the club’s rise from financial flop to cultural powerhouse. “New Order were away all the time, from 1980 to 1990,” Peter Hook said. “We were only ever brought back into the club when it needed money.”
Despite the early struggles, The Haçienda evolved into a melting pot of music, art, fashion and forward-thinking idealism. “There was no VIP area,” Rebecca Hook emphasised. “Everybody had to mix.” That ethos: no velvet ropes, no hierarchies, was radical for the time, and perhaps even more so now in our influencer-driven, bottle-service culture.
Tierney linked it all back to self-expression. The club wasn’t a place to lose yourself; it was where you found your people. In doing so, The Haçienda didn’t just host a scene, it invented one. Its DNA can be found in Berlin raves, Naples’ free-spirited nights and anywhere that nightlife becomes a language, a look, a way of life.
Bringing the conversation a little closer to home, the talk briefly touched on the current state of late-night clubbing in the UK. British student nightlife today still has its moments of magic, but let’s be honest; it’s not what it used to be. Many of us are clubbing in a landscape where iconic venues are shutting down left and right, from Manchester’s Sankeys to Cardiff’s Pryzm. As licensing laws tighten, property developers swoop in, and our nights out are increasingly sanitised.
Compared to the wild experimentation of Haçienda nights, today’s options can feel depressingly curated. For all its style and swagger, though, The Haçienda’s heart lay in its sense of inclusivity. “People got together because they felt safe, they felt good and they could express themselves without being judged,” Rebecca Hook said. In today’s clubbing scene, especially for students, there’s a real hunger for those kinds of spaces, where you don’t just go to drink or post a story, but to belong, to experiment, to grow.
Fashion at The Haçienda
The experimental culture of The Haçienda is what made it so captivating. It was a space where people created the culture rather than consumed it. DIY fashion was born out of necessity, not aesthetics. Peter Hook laughed about their band’s early looks: “We had no money, right? So, we had to make do… We used to go to the local Scout shop and buy second-hand jackets and coats.” That thrift-store ingenuity would later influence high fashion. Designers like Raf Simons and Ian Griffiths (now of Max Mara) cite Joy Division and The Haçienda as key inspirations.
A surreal revelation to come out of the discussion was that the first-ever meat dress, a concept most of us associate with Lady Gaga, was born inside The Haçienda. “Linder Sterling created it first,” Rebecca Hook noted, underscoring how the venue’s reach extended beyond just music and into avant-garde art.
Continuing the discussion, the speakers discussed how fashion and sound were indivisible: one not just echoing but enhancing the other. The Haçienda was never just about the music. It was about what people wore, how they danced and who they got to be once they walked through those doors. There was nostalgia, but there was also clarity: that era’s creativity rose out of resistance. Tierney brought attention to the political backdrop, discussing the riots and social unrest of Thatcher-era Britain.
Is Club Culture a Lost Art?
Back in the days of The Haçienda, the focus was on living the moment, not documenting it. People immersed themselves in the music, the atmosphere and the raw energy of the scene without the urge to capture every instant for the sake of an online audience. There was a sense of belonging that didn’t need validation through photos or social media posts.
Today, the experience often feels overshadowed by the need to broadcast it. The moment is less about being part of something and more about making sure others see you as part of it. The essence of living in the now has been replaced by the pressure to perform for an audience. As we navigate a nightlife landscape that’s increasingly under threat, The Haçienda serves as both a time capsule and a challenge. Can we build spaces like this again? Not just physical venues, but communities. Safe havens where young people can come together — not just to party, but to express themselves, connect and feel something real.
The talk wrapped up with stories that sounded like folklore: Tears for Fears playing for £100; Johnny Marr riding the bus; artists becoming icons without even knowing it. The Haçienda wasn’t perfect. Its closure came amidst gang violence and financial chaos, but its spirit lingers like basslines in our bones. As Peter Hook put it, “It was a place where you could do whatever you wanted, however you wanted, and nobody judged you.”
The Haçienda may have closed its doors long ago, but its energy still reverberates through music, fashion and today’s creative spaces. This book captures that energy, not only for those who experienced The Haçienda but for anyone who still longs for spaces that value freedom, creativity and connection.
Words by Bethan Gwynne and Mariachiara Di Costanzo, MA Fashion Journalism & Editorial Direction students
Images by Ella Cranfield, BA (Hons) Fashion Communication and Industry Practice student
