Year of The Coat

An investment piece and uncomfortable self-promotion

The first weekend after the Christmas holidays, I met up with my lovely friend Ròs for a catch up. After a visit to the GoMA (it’s giving cultured), I suggested we partake in one of my favourite distractions: “let’s have a gander round TK Maxx”

It was January and we were skint. But that didn’t matter. We were just going for a gander. No need to buy anything. There’s so much to explore: the eclectic homeware; the infused olive oils; the discontinued make-up lines; the…. IS THAT A CALVIN KLEIN COAT WITH 70% OFF?!

“It’s an investment piece”

Suddenly, Ròs and I found ourselves flirting with a couple of wool camel coats. We tried them on. I can’t afford this. Put them back on the rail. That discount though. Tried them on again. Let’s hold onto them but walk around the shop for a bit and see how we feel? We were feverish.

You know when an item of clothing gives you permission to take on a completely different persona? The first time I tried on a leather jacket, I felt like Joey Ramone or Richard Lewis (RIP). I presented as a wimpish 22 year old with acne who wrote Lord of the Rings fanfic but I felt like a gruff New Yorker, exuding coolness and casually revolutionising the downtown punk or alternative comedy scene.

Coat made me feel like a grown up woman. A professional. A businesswoman who eats overnight oats with chia seeds for breakfast and owns 87% of this goddamn company. I’ve spent most of my adult life as a student, or dressing like a student. Maybe it’s time for a change.

It’s an investment piece.

After a not insignificant amount of dithering, we relented and the credit cards came out.

Later that afternoon, sipping non-alcoholic pints in Stereo with shopping bags at our feet, Ròs and I declared 2024 to be the Year of the Coat. We chatted excitedly about our futures together with Coats. I checked the weather forecast for the coming week, which was miraculously dry. Perfect Coat weather.

The day after Coat and I hooked up, Nicola Sturgeon followed me on Twitter. A couple of days after that, I met Elaine C Smith. Did Coat help me me attract powerful women? I’ll let you decide.

Coat’s most recent outing was to the Glasgow Film Festival’s Opening Gala, the UK premiere of “Love Lies Bleeding”. I wore Coat on the red carpet. Graham Norton sat in my row during the film: coincidence?! Or Coat? I’m excited to see what Coat manifests for me next.

Coat on the red carpet

I really enjoyed the film, by the way. Thelma and Louise on steroids, quite literally. It made me want to go to the gym, which is crazy.

Uncomfortable self-promotion

I’ve had a lot of media exposure the past few months. I’ve said ‘yes’ to almost everything, because why not? It’s good fun and I can talk about things that are important to me too (like the threat to MCR Pathways). I’m very grateful for the platform and interest. And if I don’t promote my comedy, then who will?

I am starting to wonder about over-exposure though. Seeing my face everywhere, all the time, on every platform, probably starts to grate on people. I’m beginning to irritate myself. It also exacerbates my insecurities about being an accepted part of the comedy community because I imagine other comedians seeing “that West end mum in the press, AGAIN!” when there are more deserving acts. “What does she know about comedy, she’s not even on the circuit!” (incidentally, you can read my “defence of the TikTok comedian” on Chortle).

Comedy (and self-promotion) is a highly individualistic pursuit and with that comes a forced competitiveness that I really don’t enjoy. Whether you like it or not, you will be pitted against other acts: either formally, through competitions, awards or reviews; or informally, in the press, social media “likes” or in the comedian’s own head. Alastair Green’s “comedian talking to another comedian they hate” perfectly encapsules the culture of festering resentment.

This clash of the egos doesn’t make logical sense when you understand that 1. humour is subjective and 2. comedians are not in competition for audiences or success. Every comedian (unless they’re nicking jokes) has a unique voice and take on the world. I’m not in competition with a satirical ventriloquist who grew up in Wisconsin, worked as a sports commentator for 10 years and has three French bulldogs, because that is not my life experience, and so not my comedy. The ventriloquist’s success has no bearing on my own because I have a different audience (who in my case, are largely online and carefully selected by the algorithm).

I’m sure there is probably a Scottish dimension to my discomfort. Being perceived as rising “above your station” etc. - it’s nothing new. But I also know that the ego is the enemy. This is true in any industry, not just comedy; I work in academia FFS…

TL;DR - feel free to mute me on socials while I relentlessly share every bit of media coverage I’ve ever received.

Outro

Other happenings this week: on Saturday I went to watch a rehearsal by Sophie Rose-McCabe and Lee Brophy for “Mother Bored”, which there are a handful of tickets left for. Be quick!

It was nice to see Lee again, who isn’t just a funny man with a lovely accent: he recently started his own business (the excellently named “Inky and the Mane”) in Edinburgh, for all your barber and tattoo needs. Lee is also a former zoologist, so we are kindred spirits.

I’ve been gradually cutting down my comedy festival show (still too long) and decided to release one of my sketches about the Govan-Partick bridge yesterday. You can watch it here. I had a lot of fun making it, thanks to Carla Woodburn from Sunny Govan and Marc from the Thornwood Bar, who are always up for a laugh. Stu made for a disturbingly good cop (thanks to the Comedy Unit for the loan of the costume!).

Today is the ten year anniversary of my “Lady Alba - Bad Romance” video, which I felt no guilt about fostering media attention for, in the name of independence. Probably the first and last time that I’ll be in the Wall Street Journal.