The Glad Game - Leith Street

Edinburgh’s Leith Street is not bad, exactly, but it’s ugly, busy, hard to cross and generally not a great addition to my morning walk to work. Meanwhile on the walk home, it’s generally populated by chuggers and people who will hand you the same leaflet every day for a month, never registering the fact that they see you more often than your flatmates do.

On the other hand, it’s a good place to find out about new fashion trends, which is useful for me as a person who arguably doesn’t put a lot of effort into keeping up. For example, a few weeks ago I saw a girl wearing a shimmery white princess dress, complemented by a red puffa jacket and trainers with lights in the heels. She was only about six, but she totally pulled it off and definitely gave me food for thought re my own tired wardrobe.

Then there are the culinary suggestions you can pick up. I once walked home behind a group of dynamic, go-getting young men who had evidently gone straight out after school (assuming they went to school in the first place) and had not left themselves much time to grab something to eat. Two opted to go hungry, but the third wolfed down an entire box of After Eights in the space between Calton Road and the Omni before scattering the wrappers artistically across the pavement. As they fluttered romantically into the faces of oncoming pedestrians, I was put in mind of the mise en scene of the most beautiful French Arthouse movies.

Furthermore, it turns out that the area is paved with income opportunities.



There’s so much work available here that people advertise on pedestrian crossings, which can only be because there is no space in the local job centres or on notice boards. Leith Street may be aesthetically unattractive and full of idiots, but it is also a through road to fashion, work, culture and all manner of other wondrous things.

For that I am glad.

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

I would like to blog a bit about the Fringe this year, but due to a combination of work and a student-like unwillingness to attend too many paid shows this is not as simple an endeavour as it could be. Nevertheless I will regale you with my charming noticings as I see fit, and maybe help you to develop a wider understanding of the festival from a resident's point of view rather than merely immersing yourself in coverage from The Scotsman.

Today, is is my duty to inform you that the Fringe has seen a definite increase in crocs about town. They're still rubbish, but you can't say it too loud for fear of slightly offending a tourist.

Fortunately, you are still within your rights to write about it on the internet in a needlessly vitriolic fashion. One chap has actually dedicated an entire blog to his croc hatred, which is entirely what the internet is for.

Having said that, I don't hate crocs proactively enough to dedicate an entire site to them. To be honest, it just happens I noticed from my bus t'other day that there are quite a lot around, punctuating the throngs of people dressed as gladiators and clowns and Princess Jasmine from the Disney movie of Aladdin with unattractive neon footblobs, and I thought maybe I would draw one.

I presume people wear them predominantly so they can be easily identified by other humans in their group, particularly children and old people (who are statistically proven to respond well to bright colours. I've no real evidence for that, but it is a fact.) Unless they're trying to join in with the festival atmosphere and think that forking out loads of money for horrible footwear will make them a bigger part of it. Along with speaking louder than everyone else, demanding the bus driver change fifty pound notes, and walking very very slowly so as to truly soak in the ambiance of the castle in the rain from north bridge.

I've heard it said (by me just now) that shoes maketh the man (or woman). Don't be that guy.

Or do, y'know, whatever. I don't really mind. And I've heard they're really very comfortable. Plus, you can stick little accessory things in those holes they've got on them, which is kind of like when you used to collect those things from cereal boxes to stick in the spokes of your bike back in the day. Awesome.

Are You Ready To Do Your Duty For Rome?

So, with my weekend off safely out of the way, the sun comes out. It brings with it a whiff of fake tan and the whispered promise of ill-advised footwear.

I would never normally presume to talk about fashion - Hadley Freeman will undoubtedly have summed up my thoughts in her column at some point. But there's something about gladiator sandals that compels me to break my silence.


Have you ever seen an uglier statement? I used to think the UGG boot was unattractive, but I became accustomed to having them around. Due to constant testimonials regarding their comfiness, I might even say I have come to accept them. But I don't think I can do the same for gladiator sandals. Surely shoe technology has progressed since the 3rd century BC for a reason?




Then there's this version. Are there people buying these? Are said people wearing them? Where to, and what with? Have they no eyes? AND, they must end up with criss cross patterns all up their legs. Although credit where it's due, this particular design does look like it would cater for the gladiator fan with tree trunk legs. A democratic blow for all the cankles out there... But seriously. No outfit deserves this.



If the gaping void in aesthetic values doesn't put you off, bear in mind these bad boys will set you back £40 a pair in New Look. Know what else you can get for £40? That's right, nice shoes. Ones that won't inspire passing ruffians to try and fight you to the death all the time. Trufax.