During August, Edinburgh often feels unrecognisable to its locals: posters smother every available fence, familiar pubs warp into show venues, and tourists congest the streets. Local response to this yearly metamorphosis can be mixed: depending on who you ask, you could receive a weary sigh or an excited list of shows you simply have to see. Often both attitudes can be encapsulated in a single person throughout the month, with moods swinging across a love-hate pendulum. Both feelings are justified; like an annoying sibling, the festival provokes locals to fondness and frustration in equal measure. This year, the Edinburgh Festival Fringe has provided its perennial variety of benefits and inconveniences.
As the birthplace of soaring successes like Fleabag and Baby Reindeer, the Fringe is a bucket-list goal for many performers aspiring to become the next Phoebe Waller-Bridge. However, slots are competitive, and whilst the festival is proudly open-access to anyone who wants to perform, this might in fact make it less accessible for performers when so many are vying for a spot. Additionally, skyrocketing hotel prices in August force many artists to less than ideal accommodation situations, like camping or couch-surfing, just to afford being in a Fringe show. Whilst the festival provides invaluable artistic opportunities for performers, its cost is often equally as steep.
The environmental cost of the Fringe is also a concern, due to the massive amounts of waste generated throughout the month. Rarely does someone make it out of a Fringe venue without their bag containing a small tree’s worth of flyers, most of which end up in the bin. Whilst the festival leaves much to be desired in terms of sustainability, the number of bins provided by venues, and dedicated workers who litter pick at the end of each night, at least ensure the streets are kept clean. The Fringe promises to work towards net-zero by 2030, showing hope for further improvement.
Another huge cost is that of food and drink, with soaring prices making it often feel like the city has abandoned those who call it home when their favourite places suddenly triple in price. But although it doesn’t feel the case when an evening dinner costs half a pay-check, the Fringe does ultimately give back to Edinburgh’s locals. Projected to bring in £50 million per year, the newly implemented tourist tax helps fund local services and city maintenance projects. Remembering this won’t stop tourists from blocking pavements like their lives depend on it, but it might soften the collective rage we all feel trying to get anywhere in August. The increased Fringe revenue also boosts small businesses across the city; many street food vendors see it as the most profitable opportunity of the year, and venues like Underbelly and Assembly offer hundreds of employment opportunities for students seeking summer work.
However, whilst the Fringe also boasts a range of new social opportunities, these sometimes involve the loss of local spaces. A comforting drink at a quiet pub is out of the question when it becomes crammed with festival goers; the natural calm of George Square gardens is buried beneath fake grass; preferred routes are avoided when they’re congested with eager flyerers and meandering tourists. Once you’ve said goodbye to your regular routines for the month, though, a welcoming and unique atmosphere emerges at the heart of the festival.
In other months, eccentric art and subversive behaviours are publicly frowned upon; in August, they’re applauded. Drag queens dressed as politicians pose for photos, shows compete for the most weirdly specific titles, and costumed actors start intimate conversations with strangers. This abounding inclusivity and creativity widens space for marginalised groups that might usually occupy the peripheries of society. With over 4,000 shows brought from 78 different countries, this year’s Fringe celebrated multiculturalism far and wide. Amid news of The Skinny’s closure after 20 years, and the University’s cuts to over 90 programmes from the College of Arts, Humanities and Social Sciences, it feels more important than ever for Edinburgh to appreciate the thriving cultural heart that is the Fringe.
For now, as the city breathes out after another busy festival, recovering locals and students can be grateful for the quiet return to normalcy. Hopefully, we can also look back fondly on the fever dream of the last month and feel proud that our city is the home of a festival as beloved yet dreaded, exciting yet overwhelming, and welcoming yet disruptive as the Edinburgh Fringe.
Image by Mark Chan for The Student.
