In her solo show about the aftermath of gentrification and austerity, Chakira Alin bemoans the rise of costly small plates in restaurants. It’s a neat parallel to the housing market, where properties are also getting smaller and more expensive. But Alin’s chief metaphor is the “lost art” of the house party – indicative of her generation’s financial crisis and a wider crack in social cohesion. There’s no space to throw a decent party or the would-be hosts can’t risk trashing their precarious, overpriced rentals or family homes.
The argument is put across with brio and evident authenticity on a homely stage decorated with balloons, heart-shaped cushions and a cocktail shaker. Greatly at ease with the audience, Alin plays Skip (smart name for a show about constant upheaval), born and raised in ever-gentrifying east London where she lives with her mum. Skip hearts Hackney, it even says so on her T-shirt, but how have we reached the point where dying in the place you’re from may be an unreachable dream?
Bitterness is shot through a predominantly buoyant show with some sparkling sequences: Skip fantasising about “white-pillared Georgians” and other desirable addresses; hitting up RightMove as if it’s PornHub; finding that the TV series Skins has sold her a lie, and likening house parties to oceans while nightclubs are swimming pools.
Easy gags about gentrification are rife at the Edinburgh fringe but instead Alin gives us an inside perspective and a longer view of familiar issues, anticipating the hollowing-out when gentrifiers move on. The show also occasionally veers into straight standup: “What do they call French windows in France?” But amid the bubbling humour, the threat of homelessness for Skip and her mum is a constant concern.
Alin repeatedly strikes the pose of an analyst, whether explaining why Miley Cyrus’s We Can’t Stop should be on every playlist or the function of house parties for the Windrush generation. It’s two years since Skip left drama school and she gives a lucid account of how her chosen profession is similarly weighted against her, also dominated by those benefiting from inherited wealth.
A subplot about a friend who sleeps rough needs deepening, as do a couple of supporting characters. But Alin’s plotting displays a skilful sleight of hand and she has charisma to burn in a show packed with home truths about dispossession.
