My top tip for anyone attending an Edinburgh Fringe show - the essential item you must take

You’ll be needing one of these, if you want to survive

I saw her in the Pleasance Baby Grand queue.

A young woman, carrying a paper fan. What a genius!

As soon as I got home from the show, I had a rummage in my drawers and found my own.

It was a freebie that came with a bottle of rosé, so it has the brand name, Whispering Angel, on the side, and is girlie pink. It’s never been used, and looks a bit naff, but it’ll do.

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This has become an essential bit of Edinburgh Festival Fringe kit.

I whip it out, and flutter it, like a Victorian courtesan or flamenco dancer, whenever I’m in an audience and feel the sweat starting to bead. 

After all, one of my worst/best Fringe moments of all time was seeing an excellent show at Monkey Barrel Comedy. It was hilarious, but that Blair Street basement dungeon venue, with its low ceiling and everyone kettled together, is like a pizza oven. 

I felt as if we were all going to melt, and merge together into one fleshy giggling organism.

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During the hour-long endurance test, I dehydrated as quickly as a squashed pheasant on tarmac. My internal organs became raisins and other desiccated fruits. I’m sure that, when I eventually got outside, and drank some water, I could hear my insides hissing with relief. 

That completely marred my experience. 

If anything makes me laugh now, I get a flashback that consists of a sudden hot flush.

Among many other roasting venues, there should also be a warning for the top stalls at Assembly Hall on The Mound. It’s the grill level. We’re frying tonight. That’s even though this Scottish summer has been one of the rubbishest in recent memory.

Usually, in these situations, I’ll rummage in my bag, while praying that I’ve actually taken a flyer from one of the street purveyors. 

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Did I really say ‘no thanks’ as I side-stepped all of those hopeful young faces?  This is my penance. 

I once, in desperation, could only find a wooden spoon from Pret, and tried waving that in front of my face. I did manage to get a bit of a breeze going, but also ended up with a tiny remnant of Bircher’s muesli on my trousers.

Now, life is better, as I’m a woman with a proper fan, and I feel the people sitting beside me edging closer, to thieve a little of my backdraft. 

I think someone could really make a packet, if they set up a stall selling these on the Royal Mile. 

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You could call the business Fan Club, Fan-tastic, Cosi Fan Tutte, Man with a Fan, Fan-dangle or Fan-tasmagorical.

As well as the fan carrying and, of course, the wearing of layers, there are other clothes rules to obey, at this time of year.

For instance, my sandal wearing has been curtailed, due to my Achilles heel of, well, Achilles heel. So much walking from venue to venue. So many cobbles. It feels like all my ligaments are fraying like old rope.

Trainers it is. 

I think most Fringe-goers are pretty sensible in their attire.

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If you Google ‘what to wear to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe’, it gives a boring AI generated answer, about brollies, sturdy leather ankle boots (oh come on, it’s summer) and rain ponchos with pockets. 

But, surely, it’s more fun than that. Isn’t this supposed to be a big party?

Although this appears to be a very conservative year, it’s always been the case that a typical Fringe audience member likes to wear something a little wacky.

Mind you, scratch that, if you don’t want to be pulled out on stage. You will only become eye candy, for the likes of, say, Nina Conti or Jason Byrne, whose shows are entirely dependent on audience participation.

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If I go see either of them, and I definitely will, I’m going to be wearing camouflage. Or, I’ll slip under my seat, when they start asking people where they come from.

I have actually mouthed the word “no” when a comedian has caught my eye. It didn’t go any further, thank goodness.

Apart from me, they seem to really be attracted to guys in Hawaiian shirts.  That’s the catnip outfit.

Conversely, comedians don’t wear fun stuff in 2024. Unless they’re in spangly drag, they all seem to be going for total Jerry Seinfeld-esque normore.

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I haven’t seen a single act at this festival who has a signature hat. There’s no Harry Hill-style suit and big collar, Billy Connolly banana shoes or Craig Hill kilt. 

(Well, apart from Hill himself, who IS still wearing one).

It’s just been neutral every-person jeans all the way, teamed with white Ts, boring shirts, and the occasional frock. 

If you browse through the Edinburgh Festival Fringe brochure, there’s none of the ‘look at me’ Timmy Mallett-esque colourful fashions of yesteryear. Bo-ring.

Still, perhaps they don’t want the clothes to distract from their art. Or maybe the polyester material of costumery makes them too hot.

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If that’s the case, buy a fan, I say. Come, get one from Fan-tasmagorical. It will change your life.

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