City planners developed the street as an addition to Shanghai's growing portfolio of tourist attractions. It sounds artificial, but the feel is right, an atmosphere of welcoming relaxation. It works.

Wandering down the street is like walking through a big outdoor bazaar. There is a huge department store at one end and the arch at the other. In 853 metres between, there are scores of small shop-fronts, stalls and specialist booths. On sale is just about everything the shopper in Shanghai could desire, no matter how bizarre your taste or tight your wallet.

Although Shanghai Old Street opened only three months ago, some of the owners have been in business for decades. Take Gu Jintang whose modest shop-front emporium holds an astonishing array of bric-a-brac.

For 40 years, he ran the family gold shop a few blocks away. The premises were about to be torn down as part of Shanghai's orgy of new road building, and he was offered premises in Shanghai Old Street.

'Lots of us came here,' he explains, swinging his arm casually to illustrate the scores of premises lining the street. Business is good, he tells browsers in the fluent English that he learned 50 years ago.

I bought five early-1900s advertising posters, one of which was extremely risque for the time, with the painted model showing a flash of thigh. They were 25 yuan a time; I didn't even bother to bargain.

A knowledgeable pal who is a student of Chinese history was enthralled.

Burrowing into a stack of 78 rpm records (original Bing Crosby and 1930s big band music) he found an original volume of the Little Red Book, 1966 edition, in its original cardboard slip cover. The street is packed with curiosities.

The new Old Street has a colourful history. It runs from Remnin Road to Henan Road, in the old commercial heart of the city, near the Yu Yuan Gardens. A century ago, it boasted of being the best-lit street in town - when unlit back alleys invited a knife in the ribs - and was a busy centre for banks, gold shops and restaurants.

Life's other necessities were available in nearby Fuzhou Road, where red lights had nothing to do with politics. The equivalent of the local district board, Nanshi area, decided to revamp the decrepit old street. Instead of throwing up yet more skyscrapers, they designed an attractive, workable and pleasant shopping precinct.

The rows of shop-houses may be new, but they stick faithfully to early 1900s style. Some are plastered white with wooden lathes. Others are deep-stained dark wooden facades.

All are different heights and widths, making for a pleasing lack of conformity. Hanging lanterns, Buddhist swastika emblems and upswept gables and eaves add to the flavour.

But it's the people who are the stars. How did folk like Mr Gu survive the harsh years of communist conformity, businesses intact? It's a mystery. But there he is, jolly and helpful, beaming mischievously as he proffers the 1901 version of dirty postcards. We have a laugh.

Down the road, I stop to chat with a nine-year-old who's feeding a glorious green parrot. 'Not for sale!' he shrieks. The bird is his pet. His mum is selling ice-cream.

It's a friendly, casual atmosphere. There is no attempt to pester or tout and to me, the prices seem extraordinarily reasonable.

Some of the shops have the usual tawdry tourist trinkets, but in the piles of uncatalogued books, furniture, paintings and old household items, you come across some genuine treasures.

It's a pleasure to ramble. Tea-houses offer welcome shade and scores of special brews. 'Are you hot, sir?' asks a girl, offering a refreshing pot of Zhejiang mountain tea.

Batiks in the startling, stark patterns of the Guizhou minorities hang outside one shop. Dusty relics from the Cultural Revolution decorate another. There are at least 25,000 teapots from Jiangsu kilns in a half-dozen shops (ranging from $8 to $560) and if you have a desperate need for a samurai sword, there's a shop window full of them.

Kung fu fighting irons are incongruously next door to hundreds of placid gilded Buddhas, and cooled watermelons are sliced alongside ancient sages who practise traditional calligraphy.

Wandering down the street, the visitor appreciates the format that preserves the past.

Behind the scenes there has obviously been a lot of work done to make sure everything works.

The local government and its business partners have pegged prices to reasonable levels and a team of super-efficient traffic cops keep out unauthorised traffic.

One eyesore is the low loops of telephone and power cables that distort the view. And if you lift your eyes above the level of the old black roofing tiles, the soaring skyscrapers of modern Shanghai inevitably intrude. Down on Old Street, however, 1900 reigns supreme.

GETTING THERE Dragonair flies four times daily to Shanghai with return tickets at $3,360. Kevin Sinclair stayed on the 77th floor of the new Grand Hyatt in Pudong, overlooking the Bund, at an introductory rate of $1,150 a night, valid until the end of August.