From the 21st of September, I will be working two jobs at the same time. With this, it means I can finally have the independence I have been craving in my twenties. The independence of living alone and away from my Dad who treats me as if I’m still the little kid playing with Barbie dolls and Polly Pockets. Apparently, 40% of 25 year olds in the UK live at home - I hated being part of this statistic - and I very much want to be out of this statistic for good.

These last few weeks have been very exciting. My city, Edinburgh, has been alive with music and theatre and comedy at every corner. I caught a range of shows - from a votes for women musical to a young trans comedian to a Liz Taylor tribute performance.

The Elizabeth Taylor performance was a particular highlight. While Taylor herself is sadly no longer with us, we had an actress pretending to be her in 1961. She’d just won an Oscar and pretended to give us an in-depth interview at the Beverley Hills hotel. She truly embodied the spirit of Liz very well and talked about her first few marriages and her life going from child actress to Hollywood star. I was already very familiar with her story, having read her biography last year. What I love about Taylor is that she wasn’t afraid to be herself. She didn’t seemingly care what the press or the people thought of her, marrying a grand total of eight times. (Twice to one man, Richard Burton, often dubbed the love of her life.) While at times her life could be very much controlled by the studio - her first marriage became a publicity stunt for a wedding film she was in - she did manage to break away from some of the restrictions she faced and live her life to the full. As someone who runs an Old Hollywood book club, I was very much in my element with this show - and I eagerly await part two, which I will be seeing tomorrow.

I’ve also started going on dates again. The last few weeks I’ve gone from date to interview to date to interview, feeling judged at every corner, trying to juggle finding a job and finding a boyfriend at the same time. I’d had little success with Tinder, so I downloaded Bumble, and so far I’ve had some good dates through the app. (When you’re broke as I am, it can be very nice having men buy you dinner several nights a week...)

Another highlight of these last few weeks was having my words published by The Scotsman, one of Scotland’s leading newspapers. My article - taking up an entire page in the paper - talks about the difficulties graduates today face, many of us going from university to universal credit. Indeed, the figures in Britain are stark: around one million young people are unemployed. And many of those who do have jobs are underemployed, stuck in hospitality or retail. Just after graduating in 2025, the only job I could get was at a chocolate shop. Many of my colleagues were graduates like myself, some even holding masters degrees. It is a tough world we are in right now - but we just have to stay hopeful - it won’t always be like this.

This Scotsman article, of course, very almost never happened. I was lucky I emailed it to myself before my laptop disappeared. My Mum, moving house a few weeks ago, managed to lose it among all the boxes. Thankfully everything was saved on my OneDrive or I had emailed to myself - so nothing seems to have been lost. It just reminded me of a Sex and the City episode, the one where Carrie’s laptop breaks and she loses all her work. As writers on Substack, we all have to make sure we keep our documents saved properly - I hope my article can be a reminder for some of you!

Anyway, it’s a Saturday night, and I am sitting home alone. I have an exhilarating evening ahead of me - tidying - after I publish this post. Friends suggested a fringe show tonight, but sometimes you just need evenings like this, quiet, peaceful, doing nothing in particular. This rest is much needed as I am now, officially, The Diary of an EMPLOYED graduate! At last!

Interviews: 12

Mental breakdowns: Too many to count

“What do you do?”

Whenever you meet someone new, that is one of the first things they ask you. When I was younger, it was an easy question. You didn’t really need to think about the answer at all: “I’m a student at Glasgow University. I’m a student at Stockholm University. I’m a school student. I’m a student athlete. I write for the student paper.” And so on and so forth. Nothing to be embarrassed about there. You had purpose, you had something going on in your life.

At a dinner with strangers the other night, a once easy question became impossible to answer. How do you bring up the fact you have recently been made redundant? That life after graduation has been an embarrassing disaster of unemployment, minimum wage jobs and being stuck in Fife?

“I uhh recently finished a journalism qualification. And before that I finished my history degree. And uhh I was running the social media for a woman in tech…”

And drifting on, looking very silly, clearly suggesting to all those present I was gloriously unemployed and gloriously embarrassed about it.

We tie so much of our self-worth to our achievements, that when they come crashing down, we don’t know what to do with ourselves. Who are we, outside the student paper? Outside of university, school?

The last time I didn’t tie my self-worth to my achievements was probably at eleven years old. Once getting to high school, I was always reaching onto the next thing, whether that be getting 100% in a maths test or winning a year group cupcake competition. (Yes, still my proudest achievement.)

And it’s bad. Because we really shouldn’t be tying our worth to achievements. Especially when in the world of work a lot of jobs come through for reasons that are nothing to do with your talent. Even one café I worked at, I got it through being Lithuanian like the girl who hired me. Sometimes just little things like that can get you a job, despite others being more qualified.

Anyway, while thinking of what I’d write for the latest instalment of The Diary of a 20-Something Graduate, musings like this would pop up. Clearly the girl who won the cupcake competition is going far in life…

The last month has been dull at times, interesting at times, a real range. Sometimes I just sit in my local library with its glorious view of the graveyard and contemplate why on earth I made the choices I did that led me here, feeling just as dead as the corpses themselves. Maybe I really should have studied teaching, or medicine, or something else sensible - I’d be in a stable profession by now and not looking out at a graveyard day in and day out.

Well, anyway, what other things have I been up to that I can I update with you all? Well, one interesting thing I did last month was attend a dating event. It didn’t go very well. I feel kind of bad to be honest.

The guy was clearly very nervous – he said it was his first time attending such an event.

Within a minute of our conversation, I realised I couldn’t continue. I felt sick, I told him. Then I did the stupid thing. I just upped and left him mid date, leaving him sitting alone. It probably looked awful to everyone there – and suggested to all that it was a truly awful date - but sometimes you just really can’t go on. Poor guy would be going home and telling his friends that a girl left him mid date saying she felt sick… I do hope he has the confidence to attend other events in the future, and I haven’t ruined it for him completely.

I mean, I genuinely did feel sick – I booked a GP appointment the next day. But sometimes I realise I am not helping my love life at all when I do things like this.

And it makes me reflect on how I can sometimes be a little dense when it comes to love.

When I was in first year of university, I used to go back to guys rooms and make them watch Marilyn Monroe films. Of course, they’re not interested in Marilyn Monroe’s filmography at all but want something else entirely. Time teaches you what they do want instead. (Audrey Hepburn films, obviously. Her version of War and Peace – with its thrilling three-and-a-half-hour runtime - is a particular hit.)

But what was I thinking then?! Really, what eighteen-year-old guy is wanting me to come into his room with a Marilyn Monroe boxset to watch How to Marry a Millionaire? I mean, the only title of hers at that particular moment he is interested in is Let’s Make Love, but I didn’t even consider taking that one out.

Anyway, back to the present. That was a long time ago.

In terms of interviews I’ve had of late, I recently had an interview for my dream job. The most competitive, prestigious journalism grad programme there is in the UK – and with my favourite newspaper. I was in the final forty of 1500 applicants. Wow.

This was it. Maybe this was finally my chance, my big break, my ticket out of Fife after all this time. (I desperately needed out of Fife.)

And you know what? Because I wanted it so much – I’d dreamed of working here for years – I messed up. We had an online assessment and while it went well for most of the ninety minutes, in the final five minutes I froze. My laptop froze too. My WiFi cut out completely. And I ended up submitting an email with half the words missing, the whole right side of the page showing blank. Ouch. Dreams crumbled by a dodgy internet signal.

I feel this is something we don’t talk about enough. We talk about finally landing the dream job after so much hardship, we talk about getting rejected completely – but do we ever talk about the midway stage? Chosen enough to get to the final forty - yet not chosen enough. How it feels to find yourself so very close to your dreams – and then messing up close to the finish line. How do other aspiring journalists feel when they don’t make Vogue or The New York Times or The Guardian or some other newspaper or magazine they idolised growing up? What are they up to now?

I burst out crying after that interview, going for a walk and truly feeling very sorry for myself. My grandparents buy that newspaper every day… Now whenever I pay them a visit I guess I’ll be reminded of my failed dreams.

My Mum said that clearly it was meant to be that way. That there must be a reason why my WiFi cut out at the last moment and that clearly this job was not meant for me. That perhaps there was something else waiting for me instead.

I actually write this part in a café in Glasgow, remembering sitting in this exact spot a few weeks ago and receiving that invite email and being so excited. Alas. Not meant to be.

Another almost moment - I almost moved to Norway this month. I was all accepted and everything to volunteer at a remote mountain lodge for a month. However, I ended up having to decline the opportunity due to being misled some details. A shame, but it would have only been for a month, and it was unpaid.

Of course, being unemployed and all, I’ve had to find ways to make money. After being sanctioned by universal credit for three months – don’t ask - I ended up leaving it altogether. What was the point going to weekly meetings when they would give me nothing till September?

So, my friend suggested I sign up for market research groups. Already a few in our friendship group were doing it, us all being graduates who need that extra money. I did one in Glasgow; it was perfectly fine – I was paid £60 to wear a VR headset. Not bad.

However, another one came up a few days ago… That wasn’t quite the same. They were looking for women to test new period products. To do so, you’d have to take a picture of your pad every time you used it for a week. Think 20-30 pictures of pads in various stages of your period. I ended up saying no – could you imagine what people would think?!

I’m sorry, but if one of your friends was to see your phone gallery - with the 20 pads in all their bloody glory - what would they think? That you had some weird used pad fetish?

“I swear, this was for money. I was unemployed and broke at the time and-”

Selling feet pics online is bad enough - this is far, far worse.

And imagine these photos are then seen by someone else, say, a future boyfriend. Who you really like and want to spend your life with and can’t imagine living without cos he’s the love of your life and - yeah, he’s never gonna look at you the same way again. And now let’s see how he explains the break-up to everyone he knows...

It is times like this, when graduates like me are having to go to extreme measures to make money, that sometimes what we see in the media can be immensely difficult. Social media and its influencers can be hell when you’re in such a state. And when the press is singing the praises of various celebrities while you’re going through this, it makes you feel sick. I don’t give a shit about the actress flying her dresses by private jet while I am currently debating whether or not to take pictures of my used pads for a bit of money… There are real people out here with real problems: these celebrities live in a bubble of indifference, blissfully unaware of the issues that face normal people. They and their ballgowns are a far cry from the world of the job centre and universal credit.

However, on brighter news, other, unpaid opportunities have been opening up. I am now a youth representative for a notable conference happening in Scotland. Very cool.

And I’m going to interviews. I had one on Friday, I had another this week, and I have one next week too. Onwards and upwards. Whatever is meant for me will not pass me by.

Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed my latest instalment of The Diary of a 20-Something Graduate. My last article was immensely popular, meaning I had quite a lot to live up to. Hopefully this one does justice to my last part, and you enjoy learning a bit about my life in Scotland after graduating. While I haven’t quite lived up to the potential I showed when I won that year group cupcake competition back at age thirteen, I don’t feel like I’m done yet – I have more to show and I hope I can share it with you all soon.

A biography that begins from her birth in the 1920s and continues on to the 2000s - just where to begin talking about the life of the extraordinary Lauren Bacall?! Never a dull moment reading her autobiography “By Myself and Then Some”, Bacall’s book shows just why she had so many fall in love with her, from Humphrey Bogart to Frank Sinatra to her many fans.

It was fascinating hearing how Bacall began her career. Growing up in New York, she dreamed of Broadway - not Hollywood. A very normal childhood, then to the American Academy of Dramatic Arts after graduating high school. She did modelling here and there, ushering at theatres, working various jobs around the city. She faced many a rejection - was fired at one point early on in her career - yet still kept on going. It was at eighteen years old she had her big break, with her Harper’s Bazaar picture being spotted by film director Howard Hawkes. And no wonder he spotted her - she truly had such a unique look, her beauty in my opinion on par with the likes of Vivien Leigh and Veronica Lake. From there, she’d be cast opposite Humphrey Bogart in To Have and Have Not, a role that would change her life forever.

The film was legendary for many reasons. Not only did it become a classic, but it was also the start of one of the most famous relationships in Hollywood history. Quite a scandal, too, involving a nineteen year old Bacall getting with a forty-four year old married man! Though such age gaps were so prevalent in the film industry then (and now), the relationship still caused ripples across the world. It also caused a divorce, then a wedding, then two children: quite an introduction for Bacall into the industry. Say what you want about the age-gap, but it was clear that the two truly did feel something for one another. Bacall dedicates much of her book to gushing about Bogie, long passages detailing their married life together. Sometimes just simple anecdotes, like the two of them sitting together in the evenings watching TV. Of course, time is not kind to them. Barely a decade into their relationship, Bogie falls ill with cancer. These chapters of the book were particularly difficult to read, hearing Bacall go into the reality of his sickness. He dies in 1957, leaving Bacall a widow at only 32. It is clear that he was the love of her life and what they had was a genuine connection in a Hollywood of fakery. But how to go on living after all this, when it feels like life has ended at 32?

Bacall is strong, and she knows she has to hold it together for her two children, Steve and Leslie. And she does. She spends her time working, spends time with friends, with family. She is briefly engaged to Frank Sinatra - it doesn’t work out - and later marries Jason Robards. It is a somewhat unhappy marriage - nowhere near as happy as that she had with Bogart - but it does produce another child, Sam. They divorce after eight years.

What I like about Lauren is her honesty. She never shies away letting you know how she feels about certain Hollywood characters. She heaps praise on some icons, becoming friends with the likes of Katharine Hepburn, Vivien Leigh, Judy Garland, Gregory Peck and many, many others. Hepburn in particular is to become a very close friend until her death in 2003. Some of her icons are to be somewhat of a disappointment: Bette Davis is described as a bit cold and aloof. Ava Gardner, meanwhile, is rude on their first encounter. She likes Marilyn Monroe - says there was no meanness about her - but the two are never to become close. Which is a real shame, as you truly do wish your idols did all become friends - one big friendship group - as parasocial as it sounds.

Her biography takes you everywhere, from Los Angeles in the 1940s to Africa to Paris and London and New York and everywhere in between. Her time with Bogie and Hepburn filming The African Queen in Africa was a particularly interesting part to read about, really giving you an idea what it was like to shoot in such remote locations. I also love the fact that in later years she makes the promise to herself to visit Paris every year - I wish I could do that in the future!

There are other things I liked about her. She was very close to her family, for instance, always making sure to dedicate a lot of time to write about them. Her Mum raised her as a single mother, meaning that their bond was particularly strong. Of course, her Dad does make an appearance in her life - trying to worm his way into it once she becomes famous, having had nothing to do with her as a child. To Lauren, understandably, it is too late.

I also loved how Bacall continued achieving career success later in life, too. She finally managed to make it big in Broadway, her original childhood dream. She wins a Tony for Applause at age 45, showing how her career wasn’t just confined to her films with Bogie in the 1940s. Theatre didn’t mean she completely said goodbye to Hollywood, for she continued with films even into her eighties. She worked alongside modern day Hollywood icons, including Nicole Kidman and Natalie Portman. She also starred in animated films, including the voice of the witch in Howl’s Moving Castle. This was actually my very first introduction to her - and I was absolutely terrified of her as a child!

All in all, I’d highly recommend this biography to any fan of Old Hollywood. It gives you an insight into that world from the unique perspective of Lauren Bacall, an unfiltered look at a world long gone. It was a harsh world - even Bette Davis, biggest star of the 30s and 40s, had to advertise she was looking for work in the trade papers later in life. But it was a world that gave Lauren opportunities, love, friends, and an exciting, international life.

I’ve really enjoyed exploring Lauren’s life in my second part of Emilija’s Old Hollywood Book Club. In a few weeks we’ll be looking at Sophia Loren - stay tuned!

Interviews: 9

Mental breakdowns: Too many to count

Exactly a year ago today, I graduated from university. I was naïvely, stupidly optimistic that day: thinking that graduation day marked the start to my exciting, successful adult life. I would move to London, I’d become a journalist, life would just keep on getting better.

Alas, a year on and I am a huge success. Indeed, today, of all days, I was gloriously made redundant. An extra special way to celebrate the one-year anniversary. I had worked at the café one week – a week! – and now the café itself was shutting down completely. Not enough customers, apparently. Just my luck.

The version of me a year ago could never have envisioned just how her life would turn out after graduating uni.

Eventful, messy and incredibly embarrassing - just some of the words used to describe what life has been like. My history degree and my NCTJ Diploma in Journalism completely useless for the café jobs I’ve been doing. Who cares about the premodern history of China when there are angry customers waiting to be served? And essays on Wu Zetian, lectures on Napoleon and a dissertation on women in the 1920s – all useless knowledge for a hot chocolate barista. And learning the ins and outs of media law for my journalism course wasn’t much help at a baguette shop either. In fact, nothing from my degree – nothing – helped me for life after graduation. Even high school Spanish class was at least somewhat useful, Edinburgh being a magnet for Spanish tourists.

Now, hospitality might not be so bad if you’re somewhat good at it. But if, like me, you’re hopeless, it’s just constant humiliation. I’m somewhat of a Bridget Jones at work, just without London, the fun journalism job and a cute Mr Darcy.

I’ve continually embarrassed myself in every way possible at work: from my underwear completely snapping off mid-shift to turning up to my first day of work with mud all over my neck. (I’d had a charity muddy race the day before.) The highlight of this all has, of course, been a whole lot of time spent in Fife, glorious Fife, the most exciting place in Scotland.

From this month onwards, I plan to run a diary series, looking at my life as a 20-something graduate. At the beginning of the month, I’ll give you a taste of what I’ve been up to the last month: the highs, the lows, the many failures in between. This will run nicely alongside my Old Hollywood book club, which will be released in the middle of the month. Hopefully all of this paints a picture of my life: not quite living it up as a journalist in London... But despite this, still with a voice and something to say.

Now, since July 2025, I’ve worked at two different cafes. A chocolate café and a baguette shop. As well as this, I spent several months running the Instagram of a woman in the tech industry.

The first job I landed out of uni was the chocolate café. Hot chocolates, chocolate milkshakes, chocolate pastries, chocolate ice cream, chocolate chocolate everywhere I looked. Death by chocolate.

And indeed, it was death by chocolate. The job killed me off, quite literally. Come January and I ended up leaving due to a chocolate-induced breakdown.

But up to that point, despite being difficult, it had been quite interesting. And I’d felt like an incredibly serious, mature person at the job. Can it not get more serious than chasing a German guy down the street who had forgotten his gingerbread marshmallow? Or spending my time whipping cream and sprinkling chocolate on hot chocolates, all while myself decorated in whipped cream and chocolate? This was just as serious work as I’d be doing had I landed an internship at Bloomberg.

My work at the baguette shop, meanwhile, was so brief – a week and three days – that there is not much to say. The staff were nice; the food was great – but not much can be said about a job you work a week and a bit at and has no customers.

I guess the good thing about being made redundant is that it has given me time to think. I’m sitting here now, in a café, wondering how the next twelve months will look like. Will my life in July 2027 be just as unsuccessful? Will I get out of Fife? Will the dreams I had for my life actually come true?

I’ve also spent the last week reading the biography for my next book club, this one on Lauren Bacall. She too had such disappointments in her career. One of her first acting jobs – a part in a touring play – had its tour pulled near the beginning. She’d also been let go from a previous job. Thankfully such set-backs did not stop her, and she went on to become one of the greats of Old Hollywood. And I suppose we need to realise that redundancies, disappointments, etc happen to everyone. We are not unique in this.

I will keep going. I will keep applying. I will go out to that dinner tonight, despite how rubbish I feel right now. (With five strangers through the app Time Left. Just how to introduce myself to strangers on such a day? “Hi, I’m Emilija. And I was made redundant today. Now, what do you do for a living?”)

Anyway, I suppose I am too tired to write anything else. Today has been quite the shock on the nervous system. I hope you enjoy my blog on Lauren Bacall later this month. And I will update you on my life in August!

As an Old Hollywood enthusiast who owns biographies for many a star, I decided that from today I will run Emilija’s Old Hollywood Book Club. About once a month I will dedicate a blog to a biography, giving my readers a glimpse of the women who made film history. Stay tuned for articles on Lauren Bacall, Veronica Lake, Katherine Hepburn and more!

Now, what better way to celebrate Marilyn on her birthday than to turn to her own words? “My Story”, her very own autobiography, gives glimpses of key moments in her life, from her upbringing to her first meeting with Joe DiMaggio. I think it makes sense to delve into a book from her own point of view: no biographer can really paint a picture of her as well as she does herself.

The book starts with some very inventive chapter headings. Some of my favourite headings include “Why I Am a Hollywood Misfit”, “I’ll Be Smart – Tomorrow”, “It Happened In Math Class” and “I Didn’t Like Parties but I Liked Mr. Schenck”.

The math class chapter, for instance, details her time at school. The time in which she started having many of the boys start taking notice of her after wearing a different sweater. Already some resemblance of a star forming in her school years, already showing promises of someone who in the future would turn heads. Some of the chapter is a little disturbing, however: her first boyfriend was 21 when she was just 13.

Throughout her autobiography, Marilyn is very witty. She would make a good writer, had she turned to that: she had a very good sense of humour and often I found myself laughing aloud.

For instance, at one point a friend is talking to her about history.

She, meanwhile, quips: “I had never heard of the Spanish-American War. I must have been absent from school the week it was studied in my history class.”

Moreover, I found the chapter “my own recipe for fame” very amusing, the ways in which she details how one can achieve stardom in the business.

“The other way to fame open to the actress is the way of scandal,” she says. “Sleep with a half dozen famous Don Juans, divorce a few husbands, get named in police raids, café brawls or other wives’ divorce suits, and you can wind up almost as much in demand as Bette Davis or Vivien Leigh.”

Of course, her own path to fame wasn’t by scandal, but a path unique to Marilyn.

Her stories of her chasing her dream are fascinating. At first, she keeps her dream of acting a secret.

“But there was this secret in me – acting. It was like being in jail and looking at a door that said “This Way Out.” Acting was something golden and beautiful. It was like the bright colours Norma Jean used to see in her daydreams… It was like a game you played that enabled you to step out of the dull world you knew.”

She speaks about the Hollywood no one talks about: the Hollywood of failure, the one where everyone is trying and struggling to get their big break.

She has some anecdotes of this time, including when she posed nude for a calendar after being short of cash.

They tell her not to worry, she is a “beautiful nobody” after all.

She does have her concerns, however. It’s all fine having a nobody posing nude on a calendar. But what if she makes it big?

“What if I became an actress sometime? A great star? And somebody saw me on the calendar, and recognized me?”

Of course, this calendar does come to haunt her after she becomes an actress…

Once further inside Hollywood, she makes interesting observations about the parties she attends. The fakeness, the way her idols aren’t quite living up to her expectations. She details feeling lonely at these parties, sometimes standing alone. And, of course, she knows just how to make an entrance. Two hours late, in a red low-cut dress.

“My arrival in it usually infuriated half the women present. I was sorry in a way to do this, but I had a long way to go, and I needed a lot of advertising to get there.”

She says that her idols are disappointing. “I always thought that movie stars were exciting and talented people full of special personality. Meeting one of them at a party I discover usually that he (or she) is colorless and even frightened. I’ve often stood silent at a party for hours listening to my movie idols turn into dull and little people”.

Marilyn, however, certainly does not fall into the category of dull movie star. Every page is a delight, reading more about her life and her personality. She truly would make a great writer for every page is just as much fun to read as any written by a bestselling author.

I think I will leave my review here, for I don’t want to spoil all the best bits. This truly is the greatest read for any Marilyn fan, better than any biography. She’s an inspiration to women today in many aspects. Ever found yourself standing alone at a party? Well, Marilyn has been to plenty alone. Ever felt insecure in your abilities? Marilyn too has felt that plenty of times. You’ll find yourself relating to the star in many ways you never thought possible, even though we all lead such different lives to hers.

I’m still not over my Marilyn celebrations for this month. In a few weeks’ time I will be attending a screening of “Some Like It Hot” at a castle in Scotland – I cannot wait!

During this period, I decided I wanted to rewatch The Devil Wears Prada. I needed an easy comfort film. And, after all, it was about a recent college graduate - I was watching it at exactly the right time in my life. The new film came out this year too. Could there not be a more perfect film to watch right now?

It turns out not.

As someone who has been on universal credit after graduating, watching poor Andie land a job she so doesn’t want at Runway straight after graduation wasn’t particularly relatable. Poor girl has to attend Paris Fashion Week - what a difficult life! Poor girl lives in New York, has Gisele Bundchen as a colleague, has a wardrobe plucked from the runway – all problems we can very much sympathise with. While we graduates today are lucky if we can get a job at our local Tesco. (Indeed, even my local Tesco cafe rejected me.) With the job market of 2026, the last girl we should really be feeling sorry for is a girl landing a job that a million girls would kill for at Vogue. (It’s worth saying that I was seated for the sequel, however.)

So, with The Devil Wears Prada not the film to watch right now, I have compiled a list of films you should watch instead if you, too, are unemployed or underemployed in a job unrelated to your degree. Read on to hear about some of the films I’ve enjoyed watching of late:

St Elmo’s Fire

This is my top choice and probably my favourite brat pack film. It follows a group of recent university graduates and what they’ve all been up to since graduation. Even in the 80s grads were struggling, with many in unglamorous jobs unrelated to their degrees. Indeed, at one point Kevin, working as a waiter, states “You know there are more people in law school right now than there are lawyers on the entire planet?” Of course, this was forty years ago, with the situation far bleaker for graduates today. But the film still is far more relatable than The Devil Wears Prada.

No Other Choice

This is a recent South Korean film by Park Chan-wook, only coming out last year. While I wasn’t so much a fan of another of his films – Handmaiden – I really liked this. It follows a man who loses his job at a paper company after twenty-five years. Faced with the reality of unemployment, he realises he needs to be extra creative in getting a job – by killing his competition. While the youth unemployment is particularly bad in the UK – 25% of young Londoners are unemployed – let’s hope no one in real life goes to such extreme measures. At any rate, with most jobs in any field having hundreds of applications, this would be a very difficult task to pull off. And even if you did do that and went to all that effort, the reality is your CV wouldn’t probably make it through AI screening anyway.

Good Fortune

The 2025 film revolves around a man, Arj, who is out of his luck and living out of his car. He’s an aspiring documentarian but instead is working various odd jobs, a world away from his creative dream. His life takes an unexpected turn when an angel (played by Keanu Reeves) accidentally makes him swap lives with a wealthy tech Investor, Jeff. Arj’s reality at the beginning is particularly relatable to recent grads who feel that they too are doing jobs quite different to what they want to do. Moreover, one of my favourite bits is when Arj is calling his family who so kindly point out how well his cousin is doing. As someone who graduated the same year as one of my cousins, I know very well the feeling you get when they get a job before you do…

California Schemin’

The true story follows two guys from Scotland who dream of being big rappers. Their first trip down to London isn’t a success, however. They fail to land a record deal and they are seen as a bit of a joke, especially with their Scottish accents. They devise a new plan for their next trip: they’ll pretend to be American. With new accents and a background very different to Dundee, they are a success in the rapping world, even appearing on MTV and playing support to famous names. What this film shows you is that you have to be different to get ahead in the world. That after initial rejection, you need to do something unique to stand a chance the second time around. While changing your accent might not help you land the job – especially if your application doesn’t make it to interview – you can try other ways.

Roofman

Okay, this isn’t about the job market. But it was one of the best films I saw in 2025 and a really enjoyable watch, especially needed if you’re down and unemployed. The true story follows a man (Channing Tatum) who escapes prison and finds refuge in a Toys “R” Us. He spends many months there, completely unbeknownst to those who work there. I suppose what this film can teach recent university graduates that if all else fails and you can no longer afford rent, you seemingly will have no problems camping out at a toy store. Indeed, you could save many months of rent and by the time you have landed a job, you’ll have all that extra money saved.

All in all, these five films will make you feel a little bit better that you’re on your 300th application and getting nowhere. While it can be hard to relate to the glamour of The Devil Wears Prada, these films will remind you that it’s completely normal to be struggling in such a dire job market. And while you may not land a job at Runway straight out of uni you will, eventually, get to where you want to be. (Even if you have to go to the extreme measures of No Other Choice.)

Last month I attended the grand opening of the exhibition. Alongside invites to influencers, models and various people in the fashion industry, my Dad mysteriously got an invite email. He is definitely no influencer, does not work in the industry and despises fashion. We were all left confused as to why he was even invited. Yes, sure he’d modelled once – for his university prospectus back in the 90s – but modelling for a university in Aberdeen is quite a world away from high fashion.

At any rate, I was certainly not complaining about the invite. I arrived at the event thinking my outfit would pass the test. A silky navy dress alongside some heeled boots. Smart, but not showy. Yet upon arrival it became clear that my outfit – styled by my grandmother – paled in comparison to some of the outfits there. Some girls had got so dressed up they’d decided to wear massive ballgowns of the sort you’d see at a film premiere – not a museum in Dundee of all places. (And a far cry from what you’d see on a Dundee high street any day of the week.)

The event began with drinks and mingling. I had imagined that the event would only be those in the fashion industry, yet it seemed a lot of “normal” people were there too. My Dad was not an odd one out: there were other men his age who did not look like they worked in fashion and were probably just as confused as to why they had been invited.

There were speeches and then for the most exciting part – we could view the exhibition itself. It started with a section on Charles Worth, the British designer referred to as the “father of haute couture”. I was in my element. I had seen an exhibition last year on Worth while visiting Paris, so was well-versed on him. We then continued making our way through fashion history, witnessing some of the greatest fashion pieces along the way. I was particularly pleased to see Dior’s Bar suit. My all-time favourite Dior creation, I’ve been planning on saving for a replica from Etsy. All I could do was stand and marvel at the look, much in the same way anyone else would stop and marvel at a famous painting. I also adored the Paco Robanne metallic sixties dress, a similar dress which Audrey Hepburn had worn in her film Two for the Road. Next, I spotted a Mary Quant red raincoat, yet another piece in the museum that made me lament I had been born in the wrong era.

While it was nice seeing all these pieces on display, the more interesting side of the exhibition was hearing about the various unique fashion shows that have been staged throughout the years. There was McQueen’s infamous show where he’d had Shalom Harlow spraypainted. This was one I already was familiar with, yet it was almost more interesting to hear about those I’d never heard of.

For instance, I was delighted to see a clip from a show Fendi had staged at the Trevi Fountain in Rome. A clear plexiglass runway made the models appeared to magically walk on water: I was enthralled. The more fascinating show to me, however, was the Chanel one held in a supermarket. I loved how the mundane collided with high fashion, making the show unique and memorable. Props from the fashion show were on display at the exhibition, including a packet of “little black tea” and a Chanel shopping basket. Honourable mentions should also go to the fashion show staged to look like a protest in the middle of a city. Karl Lagerfield staged the mock feminist protest in 2014, with props including megaphones on display in Dundee

There was so much to take in, it is impossible to write it all down. As well as dresses galore, there were unique fashion show invites on display, from one shaped like a dollar note to another shaped like an engagement ring. The Simpsons even made an appearance, an episode in which the residents of Springfield had walked the runway of a fashion show, Homer of course quite the supermodel.

Our first tour of the exhibition hundreds of us were piled into the area, meaning I couldn’t properly savour the experience. I was lucky that several hours later my Dad and I took our own tour of the exhibition, this time with the peace of being the only ones there once the crowd had gone.

After the exhibition, there was food and a DJ and dancing. We stayed for hours. My Dad, despite hating fashion, quite enjoyed the event. I think he was relieved it wasn’t just us and a group of influencers. It had been a wonderful experience, if not a slightly odd one. I had never seen such a fashionable crowd in Scotland, let alone in Dundee of all places. Most people in Scotland barely dress up: hoodies and tracksuits being the go-to look for many a person my age. There was, unsurprisingly, not a tracksuit in sight at this event. And while unlike some of the models there I wasn’t dripping in designer, I think there’s a certain charm to being dressed by your grandmother.

While the exhibition does make you very envious for the sort of life you can only see behind glass cases, I will be back to see this exhibition soon. And what with the Barbie exhibition in Glasgow, the Biba exhibition in Edinburgh and of course this – Scotland is proving itself to be the place for exhibitions this year.

After being banned, I have tried in person dating events. These too have been a disaster. Returning from these events, I often end up with no matches. Or I make one single match and get ghosted.

Throughout the years, all I get is bad luck. It started in school - no dates to the school Christmas ball, could not go. I believe I was the only girl in the year who didn’t go. Even at university, I have been at balls where a guy has literally left me sitting alone at the table while course after course arrives and I sit alone looking like a right idiot.

I am a constant third wheel to all my friends, both girls and guys alike. Holidays, trips, you name it - I am always third wheeling.

The only men who seem to be interested are significantly older. I find myself in situations where I’ll be sitting on a date with a 35 year old maths teacher, realising several dates in I’m still not sure of his name and by that point I am too afraid to ask. At the same time, I have another 36 year old getting annoyed I can’t make his birthday party. Or another man who tells me he graduated university the same year I graduated primary school. All situations that are hardly ideal.

Now, I would hardly say I’m an ugly duckling. Tall, thin and blonde. I come from a family of very beautiful, intelligent women. My grandmother looked like a model growing up, my Mum is still the most beautiful woman I know.

It’s even got to the case that I will be out with my Mum and she gets more luck than me! She is very beautiful and looks twenty years younger than her age, meaning that guys my age will even flirt with her. But it can be quite hurtful on a night out with her that I notice the guys my age looking at her, not me.

Nights out with friends can be interesting, too. On a recent night out, two guys approached me. One to ask me why I looked so sad. The other to let me know my friend was very beautiful. (Couldn’t he have told her instead?) I’ve even been told on some nights out that I give guys the death stare… Not quite love at first sight.

Even when I place myself in situations that might lead to romance - a hotel filled with Spanish soldiers - it just doesn’t lead to anything.

I’ve had situations in my life where family become curious at potential romance, thinking that something has happened with my love life. “You’re sharing a flat with an Italian guy?” they ask, intrigued, believing this to be the start of some university love story. I explain that his girlfriend will be there, and that we are simply friends. Their hopes dashed: I am simply the eternal third wheel. Something my grandmothers and Mum cannot quite understand - they were all married at my age.

Lately, I keep on ending up in all-girls environments. My current work place is all-girls, a 17 year old and one gay guy. My last work place was pretty much all girls. My final year of university was all-girls. The one cute guy that turned up to the French Revolution class was soon told to leave by our professor.

On social media, as well, I’m hardly drowning in men sending me DMs. There have been times when my stories are predominantly watched by girls and a handful of gay guys. I’ve had all sorts of other random people watching them too, including the ex leader of my country, Nicola Sturgeon. One would think that you’d be more noticed by a crush than someone who used to have tea with the Queen, but clearly not!

My next step is to move abroad, hoping that perhaps living in somewhere like Paris or Madrid or Rome might do something for my truly abysmal love life. At this point I have booked endless solo travels around Europe - visited at least twelve cities - taking myself out on dates to all the capital cities. These have been bliss. Filled with unexpected experiences and delights. And being single can have its perks. Which girl could honestly complain about being the only one in a restaurant in Florence, with all these fine Italian men waiting on her hand and foot? I certainly didn’t complain. And had I been with a man, I doubt I’d have had such treatment.

To be perfectly honest, the way things are going, I am happiest single. I can buy myself endless trips to Paris. (Three so far.) I can take myself to the ballet, the opera, the theatre. I can buy myself a Lana del Rey ticket for my Valentine’s Day.

Last Valentine’s Day, it seems the universe even knew I would be single - it scheduled my dissertation deadline that day.

But quite frankly, if I can buy myself a trip to Paris, why do I need a man? After all, my two great aunts never married and lived together with a pet cat in a home in the Highlands. They lived to their nineties, showing how never marrying helped add years to their life. Their home in the Highlands lies empty, meaning that perhaps I can retire there when I get older. Of course, I don’t have a sister, and my brother might not be too happy to sign up to this situation. But I will have cats. And as a kid, I remember telling the class that my dream was to live alone in a house of cats. I assume that will be my future and honestly, the way men drive me to insanity, this does seem to be the happiest path.

Earlier this week I discovered that Thandiwe Newton and Ol Parker had a daughter, Ripley Parker, a month older than me. Upon hearing she had just been named one of the writers of the new Harry Potter TV series, it was very demoralising. The first thing I did was send it to one of the friends who’d been in the Harry Potter club with me.

“Why give this opportunity to a nepo baby, rather than someone else who is a nobody like JK Rowling was?” I asked my friend.

What was so inspiring about the Harry Potter origins story was that it was written by an unknown, an unknown who got the book published through her sheer talent alone. By hiring the likes of Ripley Parker, this Cinderella rags-to-riches story isn't happening this time around. Instead, it's riches to even more riches. Rather than a struggling single mother writing in an Edinburgh café, we have a wealthy nepo baby writing from a mansion.

Now, this isn’t Ripley’s first venture in screenwriting. At age twenty, with no experience, she was given the responsibility of creating a Netflix show. I know many an aspiring writer our age. None of us, I assure you, would ever be given a Netflix show with no experience. The aspiring writers of my generation are lucky if they get a part-time job at Starbucks to help fund their university studies. Some my age will even study screenwriting as a degree and will still get nowhere. In Ripley’s case, a childhood filled with countless red carpet appearances – the Internet shows many - she does not need to worry about working a minimum wage job. Nor does she even need to train in screenwriting. Indeed, while most writers can barely fit writing in alongside our £12 something an hour jobs, she has plenty of time to write away in the million-dollar mansion in Malibu she grew up in. She may be a very good writer – the reviews for her Netflix show suggests she is – but there are many talented writers out there who could only ever dream of such an opportunity.

Moreover, her sister, Nico Parker, is the lead in the new How to Train Your Dragons film. She’s also starred in many other famous films and TV shows. Disney’s Dumbo, the new Bridget Jones and even alongside Pedro Pascal in The Last of Us. I am sure she’s never had to send in an application to Starbucks in her life. (Meanwhile, I sent off my application to Starbucks this week. With a 5% acceptance rate, I probably won’t even get that job, let alone a screenwriting job.)

I myself am an aspiring screenwriter, the same age as Ripley. I grew up in the unglamorous West Fife in Scotland, a world away from Hollywood. My parents work ordinary jobs, I did not grow up rich. I was born without a single connection in the film industry. The closest link I had to the industry was my grandpa met Charlie Chaplin at an airport in Scotland one time.

As a nobody, I’ve had some screenwriting success. At seventeen, a short film script I wrote was chosen for funding, having been commended by a panel of judges including Trainspotting’s Irvine Welsh. A year later, in 2019, I won the “Ones to Watch” at the Into Film Awards in London, with my award being presented by the James Bond producers. This was an awards ceremony for young people in film, held at the Odeon Luxe Leicester Square, the home of London film premieres. Alongside all the young people were the likes of Eddie Redmayne, Andy Serkis, Lily James and Jason Isaacs.

Yet I know that if me, or if any of the other young people who had won an award that day had been up against an eighteen-year-old Ripley Parker for a writing gig, Ripley would have beat every one of us. Doesn’t matter that the kids there, some as young as primary age, were very talented and had just won an award. They, coming from unknown towns across the UK with normal parents, will struggle in this industry without a famous last name.

Interestingly, you’ll have noted that I mentioned Isaacs as being present at the ceremony. Jason Isaacs actually happens to be the godfather of Ripley Parker. Indeed, in a very nepo baby way, her new writing gig was announced by her famous godfather in an interview.

Now, press from 2019 says that at the Into Film awards Jason presented a thirteen-year-old from Aberdeen with his prize. Yet I doubt that this kid from a small town in Aberdeenshire will ever have the opportunities that Ripley Parker walks into. So while to the media Isaacs shows he is supporting young people in film and takes nice, PR-friendly photos with that young boy… In reality the only young person in film he will be supporting is his wealthy, well-connected goddaughter.

That time in my life showed me very much what the film industry was about. Upon winning the award, I and two other award winners were promised work experience on a prestigious film. Yet this work experience failed to materialize. Funnily enough though, I heard of someone who did get the experience. The son of someone had his CV put into the pile, even once the deadline had passed. Not long after, I soon returned to reality. A job for minimum wage, underground, dressed in 17^th century costume giving tours about the plague. My Hollywood experience had been very brief: talking about the plague for a living was clearly my destiny.

While there are some exceptional nepo baby writers out there – Mary Shelley and Daphne DuMaurier are some of my favourite writers – this more often than not is the case. For every Mary Shelley, there is a Nicola Peltz. Peltz, the daughter of a billionaire, writing and directing a film about poverty. She is one of the last people in the world who should be writing such a story, a laughable film with an atrocious Letterboxd score. Malia Obama (we don’t need to say who her father is!) is also an aspiring writer-director. Growing up she walked into all sorts of prestigious work experiences. At my age, 24, she had her film premiere at Sundance. A film that did not bode well with audiences and gained many negative reviews. Famous, wealthy parents does not mean that you are as talented as them. There are many thousands of girls out there who could write a realistic story on what it is like to grow up in poverty. Nicola Peltz, with her Chanel clothes and Brooklyn Beckham as a husband, is not one of them. By giving opportunities to the children of famous people, you are taking it away from those who grew up less privileged. The best stories ever to be written will never see the light of day. Because their authors will never get the opportunity to tell them to the world, at most selling these stories for 90p in a self-published Amazon book.

And yes, there is the argument that you know, the children of doctors become doctors, the children of lawyers become lawyers, etc. But see, to become a doctor, it doesn’t matter who your parents are. You need to study for many years at medical school. If you don’t get that degree, they will never hire you, even if your great great great grandfather was a doctor and everyone in your family since then. With the film industry, this is not the case. Parker can get the role with an empty Imdb page because of who her parents are.

The person to pen the next Harry Potter will probably not come from the same humble beginnings as Rowling. No doubt, the next big series will probably be conceived by a nepo baby. A rich, well-connected, privileged writer who will have had every door open to them. Yet with such a privileged upbringing, these writers will struggle to write about those who are less wealthy than them. Indeed, the likes of Ripley Parker, growing up on red carpets, will struggle to empathise with Harry’s dire childhood. She will not be able to write about Ron Weasley and his second-hand gowns and too short pyjama trousers. Nor will she be able to relate to Hermione growing up outside the Wizarding world in a normal Muggle household, the daughter of dentists. Who struggles in the wizarding world and gets called all sorts of names because her parents are not wizards. Indeed, Ripley, the daughter of Hollywood royalty, would perhaps only relate to the likes of the wealthy, well-connected Malfoy family.

If this series is to be anywhere near as good as the original, it needs to be written by normal people, with normal experiences. Because a girl who grew up in a million-dollar mansion will struggle to write about a boy who grows up in a cupboard under the stairs.

A bit of an odd statement, in particular as Marilyn, as far as I’m aware, never visited Scotland. And even if she had visited Scotland, it would have most likely been Edinburgh, not a small town in Dumfries and Galloway. Certainly, a far cry from the bright lights of Hollywood – so why do I associate her with the town?

The answer lies within a bookshop that I visited as a teenager. Whilst perusing one of the many bookshops Scotland’s book town Wigtown has to offer, I came across the biographies section. Drawn as I am always to those featuring old Hollywood stars in particular, I eagerly picked up both a Marilyn Monroe and an Audrey Hepburn biography. I devoured both books, eager to learn more about the women who led lives so different to my own. And every time I flicked through the pages, I was brought back to the quaint second hand bookstore in Wigtown where I’d bought them from.

Had I bought the books online, it wouldn’t have had the same effect. Buying from Amazon just doesn’t have the same appeal. What memories does buying from the online store bring? Unless the delivery guy was particularly handsome – and mine never are, just my luck – then not many memories at all. And shopping online is never a glamorous affair. Usually done at night, 1am maybe, you in bed. No memories there. Which is why I am not surprised that my generation, Gen-Z, are now more likely to buy books in person. You associate the books you buy with places, with friends, with family.

Indeed, when speaking to a staff member of Oxfam Bookstore in Glasgow, they agreed.

“Part of the joy of buying books in person is spending time browsing the shelves and finding things you didn’t expect, instead of just searching for something you already knew you were looking for. There’s also a sense of community that comes with buying books in person that you wouldn’t necessarily get online; for instance, you may end up bonding with another customer or a staff member over your favourite author - these small interactions can really help you feel less isolated in a world that’s increasingly digital.”

Looking through my bookshelf, each book bought at a bookstore brings memories. The copy of Anna Karenina bought in the Highland village of Cromarty. The place a bookshop/café, the walls of the café lined with many a second-hand book. Visiting there with my grandparents, a wholesome family affair. Then afterwards sitting in a garden with Anna Karenina, indulging myself in Tolstoy’s classic.  

Or take the books I bought in Oban. That early morning just after my 18th birthday where I’d risen super early so as to go book shopping at their Waterstones. I had all that birthday money, I bought a precocious pile of books. Amongst them was Yuval Noah Harrari’s “Homo sapiens”. And whenever I opened up that book, I was taken back to age eighteen, the bookshop in Oban.

Or living in Stockholm, visiting their English bookstore and asking the lady for a funny book. I needed funny. I was stressed. And her recommendation of Marian Keyes’ “Sushi for Beginners”, a book that, despite being set in Dublin, I will however always associate with Stockholm. (Though it’s worth saying the book wasn’t very funny.)

I can go on and on and on. The Colette biography bought at the Oxfam bookstore on Byers road. The film history book bought at Barters Books in Alnwick. The rom-com bought in New York, later read in Central Park. That bookshop in Venice where the books were being kept in gondolas but I couldn’t buy anything because the books were all in Italian and my Italian starts and ends with “ciao”. And so on and so forth.

Opting to buy these books from Amazon instead, I would not have such memories. I would not be transported back in time in such a way. Picking up “36 Questions that Changed My Mind About You” and brought back to age sixteen, New York, sitting on the floor of the bookshop.

It’s why the trend for bookstore going amongst my age is a great thing to hear. I want my generation to experience the thrill you get from perusing books in a bookshop. The thrill when, after reading many a disappointing blurb, you find The One. The book! The one that you know you’ll read a hundred times in cafes and parks and train stations and then pass on to your friends. Forget finding The One in a romantic sense – no man brings the happiness a good book does.

What of those who just go to the bookshop to take nice selfies of themselves? I mean, it’s vain, certainly. It’s fine I suppose if you are actually going to buy and then read a book. But if you’re going to the bookstore solely for the purpose of taking a photo to share with your 700 Instagram followers, then that’s a little sad.  

I remember in Venice being in awe at all the books being kept in gondolas. I’d never seen anything like it. Yet my experience was ruined by a pair of tourists taking lots of pictures of themselves by the books. They, thinking I was taking a picture of them, started angrily shouting at me in their language, causing me to hastily leave what should have been heaven.  

In general, though, my experiences of bookshops are for the most part positive. I can see why they provide the perfect setting to films, such as the iconic bookshop setting of “Notting Hill”. They’re also providing unique touristic experiences, such as The Open Book in Wigtown. Tourists can stay in an unusual Airbnb where they get to run their own bookshop. When I found out about this, I put my name on the list immediately. But with a very long waiting list, it will take years before I can experience this.

Perhaps one day, once I am finally off that waiting list, I too can spend a week running a bookshop in Wigtown. Choosing the displays, arranging all my favourite books at the front of the bookstore. And maybe a book that I leave there – a Marilyn Monroe biography maybe – will be picked up by a teenage girl and she too will have a wonderful memory from a Wigtown bookstore. The sort of memory a package from Amazon cannot bring.

This fashion show was part of Edinburgh Style 2025. It promised to be quite the event, one where I’d hear from all sorts of people in the fashion industry. There were also a few more fashion shows scattered in across the few days, as well as drinks and networking events. With an essay due a mere few days later, I probably shouldn’t even have been at this event… This fashion event would be essay procrastination at its finest!

With so many talks across the weekend, I did bring a notebook. Overly keen, sitting at the front, I jotted down some of the most interesting things I’d found from the talks. I share them below.

Probably the most fascinating talk came from journalist Plum Sykes, top Vogue journalist. Famous for being the inspiration behind Emily in The Devil Wears Prada, she was someone I was certainly familiar with.

I was particularly interested to know what it was like to work for the real-life Miranda Priestley, Anna Wintour.

She had positive things to say about Anna. As she explained, Anna was apparently "good at letting people expand their careers" and so let her take time off work when she was writing a book.

Yet, as Plum explained, Anna could be "quite scary". Indeed, Sykes is still scared of her today. There are boundaries in the relationship. Despite this, Anna is a "very good boss".

Plum also gave more of an insight into working for US Vogue in New York.

It was a glamorous affair, one where there was no budget. Indeed, if you were working on a story in Paris, you could fly several times there and back to work on it.

As Plum describes, she really did work for the company in its heyday. Her lifestyle in New York even led her to being dubbed by The New York Times as an "It Girl". Her life very much resembled that of Carrie Bradshaw in Sex and the City, a fictional character who was also a Vogue journalist.

As Plum notes, however, she was "too busy being Carrie to see Carrie" in the show. Indeed, she didn't watch the show until 2005.

She was also asked what a day in the life of a Vogue journalist was like. The day started early, with the journalists required to be in the office for 7.30am. Wintour made sure all the staff were well-versed in current affairs, reading everything from politics to fashion.

The days varied. They were "not chained to the desk". They would go out to source interviews, meeting all sorts of interesting people. These included lunch with "a Park Avenue princess."

For those looking to break into fashion journalism, Sykes gave her advice.

Being well-versed in fashion terminology was certainly an asset. She also suggested starting a Substack, as well as being good with social media.

Of course, Plum noted that the magazine business is very different now, particularly with the rise of social media. Yet Instagram can also be a tool, a way to make new connections. Indeed, this was how she had met her latest intern!

I also enjoyed gaining more of an insight into what it was like to attend fashion shows. Iain R Webb, former fashion editor at The Times and Elle, gave a glimpse into life on the front row. Throughout his career he’d attended hundreds of fashion shows. Indeed, he owned over 200 sketchbooks - one for each fashion week. He’d met all sorts of interesting figures at these events, even Sophia Loren to whom he had offered a wine gum. These fashion shows had been held in all sorts of places, including the Forbidden City in China.

Another talk I thoroughly enjoyed came from two journalists at Grazia, Natalie Hammond and Renee Washington. I’d enjoyed speaking to the two of them the day before at a drinks event, so it was nice to see them again.

Natalie had started her journalism journey with studying a masters in magazine journalism at City, University of London. She'd then interned for various high-profile publications, including The Telegraph, Vogue and Tatler. This was followed by writing for The Times and later, Grazia magazine, where she is the Senior Fashion News Editor.

In her opinion, experience was the most valuable thing.

Her colleague Renee, meanwhile, also studied journalism at university. She'd struggled finding jobs in the industry after graduation, leading her to a job in marketing.

Yet she continued expanding her online portfolio, even building a TikTok and YouTube channel. This had impressed Grazia magazine, leading her to getting a role there as the Digital Fashion and Beauty Assistant.

"They want people to be active on socials," she explained.

Natalie explained how one would think that after the pandemic there'd be less "crazy events." Yet this certainly hadn't been apparent in the fashion world. Indeed, both of them had been on all sorts of exciting trips. Renee said a particular highlight was travelling to Dubai with Huawei.

Giving advice to the aspiring journalists in attendance, both emphasised the importance of working really hard.

"The only way not to make it is if you give up," said Renee.

Natalie also emphasised the importance of differentiating yourself. What had made them hire Renee was that she "did something different."

I also enjoyed hearing from the CEO of Harris Tweed Hebrides, Margaret Ann Macleod.

She spent the talk telling us about a certain Dior fashion show, one that had utilised Harris Tweed Hebrides for its designs. Held at Drummond Castle, it was the first Dior show to be staged in Scotland since 1955. The event received worldwide coverage: I remember reading about it at a café in Lithuania.

She explained how despite Dior using their fabrics, she didn't see the final designs until the day of the event. It had been a nice surprise, seeing how Dior creative director Maria Grazia Chiuri had used her fabrics.

The event had been very high-profile. Macleod had been seated in the VIP section. Margaret seemed particularly pleased to spot fellow VIP Girl Geri Halliwell-Horner, a former Spice Girl. Other celebrities in attendance included Anya Taylor-Joy and Jennifer Lawrence.

She concluded the talk, telling us how she very much hoped that the event would become a part of history. Without a doubt, it probably will.

All in all, I thoroughly enjoyed the talks, gaining a glimpse into a life we usually just see in glossy magazines. As someone who has spent the last few months deep in dissertation research, it was nice to have a break from my laptop!

Yet at the same time, the event did show me how difficult it was to get into such a career. Unpaid internships, usually in London, were all the norm. The likes of Sykes had been educated at Oxbridge: my Glasgow degree was not quite so prestigious. If I did indeed want to get into such a career, it would be a lot harder for me than for those with more privileged backgrounds.

I returned to the St James Centre this week, popping into Boots to buy some cosmetics. No fashion show to disrupt my day, the centre was back to being its usual ordinary self. The magic had somewhat disappeared. The glamorous models were gone, the scruffy teenagers in their hoodies were back. A shame, I suppose. But there was always next year. And until then, I could seek out other fashion shows. Maybe not quite the Forbidden City in China, but there were always others.

More recently, we have seen those mourn the death of beloved pop star Liam Payne, one fifth of boy band One Direction. While fans seemingly haven’t gone so far as to kill themselves at the news, there have been vigils held all over the world, from Buenos Aires to Glasgow. People lament that his death is the death of their childhood, him being such a prominent figure in their lives.

Taylor Swift is another popular modern-day figure, a parasocial relationship made all the more extreme by the fact she is so personal in her songs and it feels like you know her. She herself has sung about parasocial relationships, even in her most recent album making a reference to the fans who attack her relationship choices. Of course, this is not every fan, for there are some who just enjoy casually listening to her music rather than harassing her boyfriends.

Yet there are other fans who go to huge lengths to show their devotion to Swift, with some fans in Argentina even camping outside her stadium in tents months in advance of her concert. Her fandom is so big that many a university society devoted to the star has been set up around the world, including those at universities in Scotland.

The President of the Aberdeen University Taylor Swift Society, Fiona Cameron, feels she has a parasocial relationship to Swift. When asked if Swift felt like a friend, Fiona agreed.

“Umm, yeah, but I feel like she’s like that with all her fans. That she does try and connect with a lot of people.”

While Fiona is aware that some fans take offence to who Taylor is dating – in particular her 2023 romance with Matty Healy – Fiona says that doesn’t impact her.

“She does have relationships with many different people that can often be controversial. But I don’t think who she’s dating should affect her for me. I’m definitely into the music and that side, more than the other side.”

Throughout the interview, Fiona made it known that despite being a massive fan, she respected Taylor’s boundaries and wouldn’t go to the same lengths some fans would.

“I 100% think there should be a boundary. Normal people with a 9 to 5 job, people don’t harass you when you go home.”

Fiona expressed distaste at those who turn up outside stars hotels.

“You don’t need to track them when they go to a hotel. Public figures are there to provide you entertainment but when they want to go home they should be allowed to go home. And not have to worry about seeing random people outside their home.”

Like many a student, Fiona found that reading about Swift could be a form of escapism, in particular a way to take a break from dull university work.

“It is sometimes a distraction to avoid what I’m meant to be doing. I quite enjoy that kind of thing.”

She also took time to see Swift when she performed in Edinburgh in June, seeing her on her first night in the Scottish capital.

While Fiona would be willing to travel to other parts of the UK to see Swift, she wouldn’t see her further afield than London. Others she knew, however, had travelled around Europe.

“Some I know had tickets in Stockholm and Paris as they couldn’t get tickets here. It’s crazy they wanted to travel as extra expenses on top of that.”

Fiona tried to keep the costs down for their concert experience.

“We did it so cheaply. Free bus travel, we stayed at our parents houses. Trying to keep it as cheap as possible.”

Despite this, it still cost her and her friends £450 each, leading Fiona to state that being a fan of an artist really was “an investment”.

Emily Johnson is Vice President of the newly established David Tennant Society at Glasgow University. They made sure to emphasise from the start of their interview that whilst being a fan of Tennant’s work, they did not view their relationship to him as parasocial.

“As someone who has spent a lot of time online, a big part of the society is we don’t want it to be parasocial. You see fans who are really parasocial and it’s just so weird. A big part of it is we never want to meet him. We’re not like obsessed with him. We think of him as an ordinary person but we really respect his contributions to Glasgow. Especially his support of his trans kid which is so important as I’m non-binary myself.”

Emily wanted to separate themselves from other, more intense sides of the fandom. “You see stories about a lot of these fans who are insane… You want to take a step back from that.”

Emily, like Fiona, felt that boundaries were important: “You may be famous and choose to put yourself in the public eye. But you’re still a person, not a product.”

Indeed, within their interviews, Fiona and Emily made clear that whilst some fans could be extreme, they themselves were not. There are many ways of being a fan of an artist in 2025, parasocial or not.

Concluding her interview, Fiona wanted to stress that in Aberdeen the main aim of the society was for people to make friends. “People think we’re crazy but we’re not here to be crazed fans.”