Remember last August when I was super organised and published mini-reviews of Fringe shows with only five days left of the Fringe?

Well, I haven't learned my lesson.

Last weekend I attended the very first Edinburgh International Festival, and this weekend I'm publishing my mini-reviews on the performers. It's over. It's in the past. So you can't pop along and catch the end of it. But there were local improv groups there who perform regularly in Edinburgh and Glasgow....so me writing these reviews has some purpose. If it becomes a yearly thing you'll know to go next year! Or maybe I just need a blog calendar that I stick to.

(If you're wondering "wtf is improv?" it's comedy that's made up on the spot....which is not as disorganised as it sounds. My friend is doing classes right now and there are techniques and psychology. The audience members are asked for suggested words, celebrities, locations etc, and the performers create something out of it. You've probably spotted stand-up comedians repeating material from time-to-time. That doesn't happen with improv.)

And uh, I was only there on Saturday. Sorry performers on Thursday, Friday and Sunday.

The Cutting Room (Edinburgh)

I've been familiar with The Cutting Room for a while, having heard incredible things about their performances at The Fringe (I've not been able to attend any of them. How do people narrow down their Fringe choices? I usually pull performances out of a hat or let my friends decide for me). I discovered on Saturday that they are worth the hype. They performed a typical Harold that managed to float between a hot dog eating competition, a 40-year-old woman having sex with goulash and posh Milton Keynes types getting a bit too rowdy over Crufts. 10/10, would see again.

Murder of Crows (Copenhagen)

When Murder of Crows took to the stage, they had a serious vibe to them. They were decked out in dapper suit trousers and white shirts (including the girls), the lights were dimmed red, and we were told they would be performing an improvised Art Noir piece. Art Noir isn't a film genre I tend to gravitate towards, so I was a mixture of intrigued and unsure. It worked so well in the end, with passive and sarcastic humour (my favourite) with plenty of gangster drama added in for good measure.

Tinderellas (Edinburgh)

The Tinderellas was the team that I was most excited to see. Their schtick is creating improv on audience dating stories and as someone who writes openly about their dating life online, you know this is up my street! They're also an all-female team so the feminist in me can get giddy. For their performance, they chose a format called The Living Room where the girls initiate a discussion between themselves (about dating) and then occasionally break into a storytelling scene. Their performance was personal and relatable, the girls came across as genuinely lovely, and their stories gave me a chuckle.

The A-Team (Los Angeles)

This was hands-down my favourite performance of the day. The A-Team, get this, create improvised musicals. Yes, they come up with a musical, based on audience suggestions, on the spot. I'm not going to pretend I wasn't cynical about this, but they really pulled it off. The talent on these guys is outstanding as not only did they have to create dialogue but they burst out into song (and some rap!) and there was even a guy playing the keyboard!

Carter & Murray (New York City)

This is the one I feel awkward reviewing as...it just wasn't for me. I know creatively and intellectually it was a good performance that other people might enjoy. I've been to enough improv shows to know it was good improv. It just felt a little bit...low key in comparison to the other performances? After watching an improvised musical, art noir film, and some goulash sex...two guys doing a Harold just got a bit lost within everything else. Carter & Murray are a super big deal in NYC and were the headline act, so maybe don't listen to me.

The Improverts (Edinburgh)

The Improverts are the University of Edinburgh's improv team. After getting over how much their baby faces reminded me that I'm edging closer to 30 than I would like, I was excited to see their half-hour performance of short form improv. Short form, if you're unfamiliar, is like improv games where the performers have a clear structure to work from - and is my favourite to watch. I liked their performance. Wasn't blown away by it but I wouldn't be put off the Improv Fest again if they performed next year.

The Inheritance (Bristol/Glasgow)

One-half of this improv team is also two-thirds of the Glasgow team Couch. Couch was the very first improv team I ever saw live, and I've seen them multiple times since. This team was different enough that it didn't feel like the same thing I see almost monthly at Blackfriars. They started their performance by asking an audience member to come up on stage who they then proceeded to ask questions to, which would then form the basis of their performance. And then it moved into a traditional long-form performance. Similar to the Improverts, enjoyed it but not blown away by it.

Did you manage to swing by the Edinburgh International Improv Festival? Let me know your thoughts on it! 

Maybe it's a sign of getting older, or maybe its a sign of embracing my authentic introverted self: but 2018 was the year that I read more books than any other. And while I didn't love every single one I read, I certainly didn't read any that I considered to be truly awful (okay, perhaps my opinion on Hot Feminist is less than favourable).

Despite my status as a bookworm, I've never written a full review of a book on my blog. I post them often on my Instagram and on my GoodReads account. But my blog? Nah. I usually only require two paragraphs to say what I need to say and to provide other bookworms an indication on whether that book is something they need in their life or not.

Then along came Hot Feminist by Polly Vernon. Boy, do I have some opinions that won't fit into a Instagram caption.

If you're not familiar with the title: it caused a big stir when it was released. The premise of the book is that women can give a shit about their appearance while still fighting the patriarchy (fair enough). Polly was accused of being a middle-class, white women who had her head in the clouds with no understanding of 'real' feminist issues (also: fair enough, but we'll get to that). She was then subjected to quite a bit of hate on Twitter (never ever fair enough, respected debate is welcome but vilifying someone for a book is not something I can get behind).

I was drawn to this book because I am a firm believer that feminine and feminist are not mutually exclusive. I for one will definitely be at the revolution, and I will be bringing my winged eyeliner and lipgloss with me. Saying that, feminine women do sit in a privileged position above, say, butches or tomboys. More masculine women challenge the status quo simply by existing. Femme women? Yeah, not as much. While we do face some unique problems (street harassment and, if you're a queer femme-woman like myself, erasure of an important part of your identity) liking make-up is hardly revolutionary act within itself (but women who like make-up can still be revolutionary in other ways).

I hoped Polly's book would expand on the ideas I briefly introduced above with research and anecdotes. Maybe interview a feminist scholar? Or a handful of femme women? Maybe even a femme women who identifies as queer? Or a trans woman?

Perhaps an analysis of marketing techniques wielded by the global beauty industry? Or a history of how lipstick came to be?

No, it was pretty much just a personal rant about not wanting her own personal experiences and definition of feminism challenged.

Here's the thing about social justice: it's not just about you. That's not how it works. Yes, you'll have your pet issues that are probably fuelled by personal hardship (like me banging on about bisexual issues, or how awful men are on Tinder). But in order to actually fucking change the world, you need to think bigger picture and actually give a shit about issues that have fuck all affect on you. Otherwise, your fight is for nothing. Or we only end up fixing issues that impact middle-class, white, feminine women.

I was once a feminist who couldn't see past her own experiences. I think most of us probably were at some point. It took me ages to get around the whole white-people-not-being-allowed-to-have-dreads thing. There are probably still a lot of other things I say and do that are oppressive as shit, but these days I do stop to listen to the experiences of others. And if I was going to write a book about feminism I'd sure as hell have some other people from different backgrounds look over it before I sent it off to bookshops. Or maybe I wouldn't write it; as we already have enough books written about the struggle of middle-class, white women.

Polly even ends up in cultural appropriation territory twice, and mis-uses the term OCD. Not encouraging people to view other cultures as fashion inspiration and not being a dick about mental health is Social Justice 101.

She also doesn't use trigger warnings.

But I do. So here is one big trigger warning for sexual assault and emotional abuse.

[TRIGGER WARNING]

Polly Vernon speaks openly about an assault made on her when she was a teenager and the way it impacted her. She also touches upon an emotionally abusive relationship. She doesn't go into detail about the second one, but that's okay because people shouldn't be forced to share their stories if they're not comfortable (or safe) doing so.

This chapter was fabulous and was one of the best discussions around sexual assault that I've read (even if it didn't start with a trigger warning).

The reason it was one of the best chapters in the book and entire fucking world was that it included all assault. No assault is worse than another. It hit me hard because it's one of the few times where I feel as though my experience of assault is included and accepted.

I've never spoken openly about my experience of sexual assault. But I'm a women, so you had probably guessed I must have had a story tucked away somewhere.

I've been subjected to the usual groping in nightclubs, been called a whore for not accepting a drink, and even had a male 'friend' make up rumours that we were getting close so other men would stay away from me (that was a fun time). I mean, if I won't love him then I'm not allowed to love anyone.

But I came out unscathed and had no lasting emotional wounds.

However, I do have an experience that still makes me skin crawl and has made me permanently more cautious on the dating market.

I'm not going to publish a moment-by-moment recount. Maybe I will one day, if I feel brave enough. But I'm going to touch upon it enough so that you understand why I normally don't feel included in the discussion or why pop culture doesn't ever portray sexual assault in a way that brings about flashbacks.

• It wasn't violent
• It was someone I was actively dating
• It was someone I had been friends with first, and trusted
• It wasn't an arrogant jock, but a nerd
• He wasn't tall or muscular, I could have put up a physical fight
• It was in my flat, I had the territorial control
• I wasn't drunk or under the influence
• I was conscious
• I explicitly said no
• But that explicit no was to an act within sex
• Not only did we have an active sexual relationship, but we were having sex at the time
• A sex act that is mainstream, and one that men get praised for when they do (you know what I'm talking about, surely). 
• I just froze and my mind went blank
• I even continued dating him

I spent the next year of my life living in skin that was constantly crawling. I was frustrated. Angry. I had negative emotions that I didn't know how to deal with. But I internalised it. I still thought that I should have repeated my no. Or punched him. Or not had sex at all that night. It took me a year to have my moment where I realised none of what happened had been my fault. That I froze up and couldn't make sense of what was happening (never mind muster up a comeback). All the blame lies with him. He ignored a verbal no. That is not grey area. That is not 'could have read between the lines better' or 'be less creepy in a nightclub'. That is assault.

But despite that, I still feel like my story doesn't count. That some people have it worse. That some people never heal. That some people never have sex again. That some people got asked what they were wearing or why they drank so much. That they were violently attacked by a man jumping out an alleyway.

It's probably because I've never watched a sexual assault story line that depicts what I experienced. I even ignore content and trigger warnings because I'm never impacted by assault on the telly. My assault was quite mundane, and probably wouldn't make good telly.

But Polly's writing did hit hard. Because it included my story. Okay, not my actual story because this is the first time I've publicly shared it, but it felt like if she was going to curate a book with sexual assault stories from various women, she would allow mine to be included.

[End Trigger Warning]

She also says intelligent things about how we end sexual assault and rape. It's not about tougher sentencing, or changing the law. It's hard to win a sexual assault case because it comes down to one person's experience versus another. Some people who have committed sexual assault don't even realise they've done so because society still can't make up its collective mind about what consent actually is.

Personally, I think consent should be this. Communicate with your partner, even if it's a super casual thing. Don't act like some sex acts are better than others, or even that some sex acts are 'feminist'. Respect that sexual pleasure is a very personal thing, and that your new partner might not like getting fucked exactly the same way your ex did. Learn to read between the lines and recognise when someone isn't moaning or screaming in pleasure. Check in with them. Know the difference between someone who has had one or two drinks, and someone who has had an entire bottle of wine. Don't bring anything new into the bedroom without having a discussion about it first, while fully clothed. Understand that women have been programmed socially to be people-pleasers and struggle with the word no, and that shit is hard to unlearn. Realise that sleeping people can't give consent. And that consent can be withdrawn at anytime. Don't coerce either, that is also bad.

Is that really too much to ask for?

So, do I recommend Hot Feminist by Polly Vernon? No, not really. While I'm happy to photocopy that one chapter and plaster it around town until we all agree on what assault is and isn't, I won't recommend wasting your breath on the rest of the book. Save yourself a headache.

If you've been following me and my wee blog for a few years, you might have noticed that outfit posts used to be a thing. And then they weren't. In fact, my last outfit post was back in 2015.

That's because after I finished university in 2012 I fell into a massive style rut. That lasted for years.

I started working in an office full-time so my wardrobe now required blazers and sensible shoes. My new desk job caused me to put on weight and, while the weight gain itself was something I accepted, I could no longer fit into half my clothes and even the clothes I could fit into now didn't sit the same way. Adult life was busy, and I began to desire clothes that were practical and easy to style - but still cute (is that too much to ask?). It didn't help that blogging was maturing as an industry and fashion blogs (which had once been my primary source of fashion inspiration) had changed from girls taking snaps in their bedrooms of casual outfits, to now being on par with glitzy fashion magazines full of outfits that were (maybe I'm wrong) not honest representations of what these girls wore in day-to-day life.



I've never considered myself a natural fashionista. Which is why the dilemma over my wardrobe carried on for years. I didn't grow up in a house where looking great everyday was considered a must. My dad only invested in a fitted suit when my parents booked their first cruise five years ago, and my mum only has five lipsticks to her name.

I did develop a 'style' when I was 15 (hello MySpace phase) and then later in my final two years of university, but both had been heavily influenced by what other girls wore on the internet and in magazines. None of it had been some natural flair for knowing what shoes went with what bag or what colours complimented each other.

It was only in the past two years that I began to define a look that suited my new adult life. Skinny jeans. Skirts with tights (fishnets on a night out). Playsuits. Skater dresses. Floaty tops and blouses. Admitting once and for all that fitted t-shirts don't suit me. Jumper dresses. Chockers and understated jewellery. White Converse in summer. Black ankle boots in winter. Muted tones, and much more black than before. I'd say it falls under the 'indie Cindy' umbrella and if I had to choose a celebrity to emulate it would be Alexa Chung.

But then another challenge came my way: the ethical lifestyle journey that I started in 2012 had now expanded to include clothes, and I wanted to get the fuck away from fast fashion. It's hard enough shopping for clothes when you refuse to step foot in a Primark, but when you actively hate your entire wardrobe and need a re-vamp? Eek.



My solution came very recently in the form of clothes swap hosted by Edinburgh ethical fashion blogger Ruth MacGilp. Not only did I have clothes I couldn't fit into anymore but the past twelve months had been a turning point point for me (hello coming out) and I had the strong urge to once and for all rid my physical space of things that no longer served me. It was the perfect way to clear out my wardrobe and pick up some new threads that did tick my boxes (all without damaging the environment or funding slave labour).

On the day it was myself and Ruth, plus Alice of Twenty-Something City and Lucie of Call Me Dumpling. Between us we managed to fill three rails of clothing with varying styles. The clothes ranged from bold and beautiful, right through to structured and muted. Aside from the clothes, there were also jackets, bags, and shoes. Oh, and photographer Ellie Morag was there to take photos of the looks we had styled from each other's unwanted clothing.

I  remained restrained on the day and refused to replace my unwanted clothes with other pieces that would end up sitting in my wardrobe untouched for three years. No joke: these girls are style mavens and the temptation to grab everything that fitted was highly tempting. But in the end I opted for 7 new items, some of which I've already worn:

• Black high-heeled ankle boots
• Tartan scarf
• Pippa Lynn t-shirt dress
• A dark blue t-shirt dress
• Red belt
• Black French Connection dress
• JS Millennium dark blue shirt with a red ballet dancer pattern

The silver boots you see me wearing? I know they're fabulous but I also know they wouldn't get worn ever again. Same to the red pumps. I left them.



When I arrived home and hung up my new threads, I found even more clothes and accessories I wanted to get rid of (the clothes that we didn't swap were donated to a charity shop). There's something cathartic about bringing home clothes that you will wear that gives you the confidence to become even stricter about donating the clothes that you know you never will wear again.

So I'm game again. If there's anyone in the Central Belt of Scotland looking to get rid of new clothes and pick up some new clothes for free - give me a holla.

Love Morag x

Let's rewind to 1978: a time when neither myself, or most of the people read my blog, were born. It was an important year - at least if you're a big horror fan - as this was when Halloween was released and skyrocketed the slasher genre into mainstream consciousness.

Halloween is not my favourite horror film or franchise by any means (hello Scream) but it's hard to deny its influence. My apathy could probably be attributed to how dated it was by the time I got into horror films in the mid-00s - but it's more likely because the franchise as a whole got really out of hand.

Film franchises can get a bit wild if left unchecked, and Halloween was probably one of the worst examples of it. Spoiler alert if you haven't seen every film: but there have been (prior to the new one) 10 films with about three separate continuities. Laurie Strode has a daughter in one film but a son in another, and managed to get herself killed twice. There was a Rob Zombie re-boot. Plus a third film that had absolutely nothing to do with Michael Myers or Laurie Strode. And we can't forget about the one with Busta Rhymes doing kung-fu moves. I've seen them all, and I'm not recommending anyone follows my lead.

So when they announced they were making a new Halloween film set exactly 40 years after the original, I was a bit sceptical.

Until I saw the muthafuckin' trailer.



It looked fucking incredible. And the trailer clearly indicated - by mentioning that Laurie Strode is, in fact, not Michael Myers's sister - that the producers had decided to ignore those disorientated sequels and write the script as if none of the other films had ever been released.

Laurie Strode was only established as Michael Myers's much-younger sister in Halloween 2, so they were returning to the idea that Michael chose his original victims at random rather than as part of a revenge plot. The creators at the time of the trailer being released even said that the reason for this was because a murderer who had absolutely no personal reason for choosing his victims was a much more unsettling premise.

Now, I've always been able to take or leave Michael Myers as a villain. While I love the expressionless mask, the fact that we rarely see face, the muteness, his massive build, and the way he brazenly walks around with no fucks given - I usually prefer my villains a little bit more complex (or even morally ambiguous).

For me the real star of this franchise has always been Laurie Strode. While I have my issues with the Final Girl trope (get goods grades, don't have sex, or don't do drugs and you too will outsmart a serial killer! P.S. sluts die first) there's no denying that she is one of the best. Maybe it's because she has (almost) consistently been played by Jamie Lee Curtis, who could play a Teletubby and still hit it out the park.

And Laurie Strode did not disappoint in this film either. As is the case with a lot of films nowadays, she wasn't portrayed as someone who overcame her traumatic experience and went on to find peace with Michael safely behind bars. No. In the new film she is a crazy old lady who has been left severely impacted by her ordeal. In the trailer we can see that she has a Purge-esque house and mutters the words "Every night I pray he will escape so I can kill him". Because, in reality, it would be rare for someone to ever feel safe again after being stalked and almost killed by someone while they were just a teenager.

Plus, there are two new characters to add to the dynamic: Laurie Strode's daughter and granddaughter. Played by the fantastic Judy Greer and Andi Matichak, respectively.

But obviously, we all know that trailers can be misleading. So how did the actual film measure up?

When I visited my local cinema to watch it last Tuesday, I was pleasantly surprised to discover a film that found a sensible balance between paying homage to the original while still updating it enough that it wasn't the exact same film. Much like the Scream TV show (which I reviewed and raved about here) it kept the elements that made Halloween, well, Halloween. While Laurie had changed since the original, Michael Myers was the same hallow shell he had always been. He wore the same outfit, and we still don't see his face. His preferred victims still appear to be babysitters. There's a new psychiatrist who, like Dr Loomis, isn't that good at his job. Oh, and there's still the same iconic music and title card.

Honestly, for the first hour you're watching nearly the same film that came out in 1978, so for a while I was feeling a bit twitchy. But then came the final cat and mouse scene between Michael and Laurie, and it was everything I could have ever hoped it would be. I won't say exactly how it plays out but - while you see little homages here and there to the original - it isn't the same film. The closest showdown I can compare it to is Clarice Starling and Buffalo Bill in Silence of the Lambs.

Another thing I noticed is that the film is more visually appealing than the original. In 2013, Netflix released The Curse of Chucky (and in 2017 the Cult of Chucky) and created a slasher film that was actually, uh, artistic? I don't have the vocabulary to describe film effects or visual styles but even an untrained eye can spot that the directors sat down to develop a concrete look and feel (with a lot of white and a dream-like hospital environment). Watch all the Chucky films and you'll see what I mean.

The slasher genre has never been typically associated with arty film types, and has even been looked down on by film lovers who consider themselves to have a more refined taste. I've never wished for slasher films to develop a stricter aesthetic because - as it has been argued time and time again - part of what makes slasher films appealing is their simplicity. But I'm not against this emerging trend either and directors should do what feels right for their film.

In the Halloween 2018 trailer we are greeted with a red and white checker-board; a clear indication that this was another slasher movie that had mapped out its visual elements. And you know what? I liked it. Its visuals weren't as structured as Curse of Chucky, but it was definitely slicker than the 1978 Halloween.

In a world where it feels as though every film and its soundtrack is getting re-booted or planning an unnecessary sequel, it can be hard not to role your eyes. There are a lot of franchises out there that like to milk as much money out of fans as they can instead of bowing out gracefully or waiting until they have a solid storyline before proceeding with a sequel.

Halloween 2018 was not one of those films (even if many of the other films in the franchise were guilty of being ridiculous). The storyline followed on nicely from the original 40 years ago, and had a generous scattering of Easter eggs - but still enough changes that it didn't feel like the same film all over again.

And that, Hollywood, is how you do a sequel.

Morag x

P.S. I have chatted to a few people who didn't think much of it, but then I asked them how into horror films they are and if they have seen the original - and it was a no. Maybe this is a film where only the lovers of the original will enjoy it.