Err, its all gone slightly crazy. First the Times then the BBC, I've had more emails and phone calls over three days than, well, I can care to remember. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to get in contact, even the cheap insults count, I guess.

I fell foul of my new non-branded things twice yesterday, causing my therapist to wonder if I was taking things too far. First of all I twisted my foot on the new non-branded plimsolls causing me to limp around town like an extra from Dawn Of The Dead. Secondly, the plastic bag I had replaced my regular North Face holdall with (until I get a new non-branded equivalent) split on me and I lost my (Sony) dictaphone. Yeah yeah, boo hoo, it's no big deal in the grand scheme of things, but it does go to show that brands can indeed deliver a certain standard of quality (Sainsbury's carrier bags are the strongest I find).



Talking of Dawn Of The Dead (the 1978 version, that is), I've always liked the subtext of that film; the zombies roaming an abandoned shopping mall mirroring the number one leisure pastime of our age. When there's no more room in hell, the dead shall walk TK Maxx.



The majority of my leisure time in life has been spent roaming shopping centres. Some of my earliest memories are of long weekends being dragged around clothes shops, furniture shops, bathroom shops (I grew up amidst the DIY boom); I remember Marks & Spencer being the most deadly boring of stores to play in, but the ultimate in tedium has to be carpet stores. No wait, mattress shops.

I overcame my aversion to shopping in my early teens, once I got my £10 per week income (paper round, car washing, pocket money) and the newly built Bexleyheath Mall became a home from home for my friends and I. Late night Thursday shopping was our chance to meet girls, maintain turf wars with boys and slip into Top Man to try on Farah trousers. We would return on Saturday morning and spend the entire day flitting from McDonalds to Our Price to Woolworths, browsing, dosing and very occasionaly buying. I remember Sundays were extremely boring, because back then, the shops didn't open on the day of rest.



We hung around shops because there wasn't really much else to do with our time. We were too old for youth clubs, too young for the pub, and banned from hanging around local parks; the mall was one of the few public spaces where we felt welcome, and boy has it rubbed off on me now. My generation, among the first to have been sold to almost from birth, could find no leisure pursuit beyond window-shopping. I think we were let down.



One of my key talking points in my book is going to be the way in which we teach our children to value material things; a good place to start might be to offer them alternatives to shopping as leisure on their Saturday afternoons, no?

The relaxation tapes aren't working; my levels of anxiety are fluctuating between amber and red, and there's still three weeks to go. There's certainly no backing out now, since my inane grin was splashed all over the Sunday Times yesterday (fair play to the Times for running the story; other magazines have backed away, fearing it might upset their advertisers). Amongst dozens of texts and calls (mostly of the 'are you mad?' or 'you are mad, but good luck 'variety) an old distant friend phoned with serious concern for my wellbeing.

'You know, just because you've signed a book deal and got your face in the papers, it doesn't mean you can't back out even now. I don't want you to get yourself hurt'.

I was genuinely touched that someone was so worried about me. I've been living with this idea for over a year now, and I suppose I've been desensitised to the destructive aspects of this project, to the point that I'm actually looking forward to getting rid of the stuff… I'm anticipating a huge sense of relief. A huge loss too, but hopefully that'll be offset by the relief.

Another person called to say they've bought me insoles for my non-branded sneakers from their chiropodist! I have to say that the general reaction from friends and strangers is really heart warming.

So, for the next few weeks I am panic buying non-branded clothes, mixing up home made shampoo, cancelling my mobile phone contract (good bye dreaded Blackberry), and waiting for my de-branded Mac to arrive from the states. All the while battling with the local council to allow me to stage a bonfire in their backyard. Its looking like some items will have to be disposed of by means other than fire due to environmental restrictions. What do I do, smash them up or give them away?

Anyone interested in coming to the bonfire is most welcome to attend, and I'd be really grateful of the support, even if you're coming to heckle me, it all counts as support in my book. I'll announce the venue soon.

Does anyone out there own a large piece of wasteland in London that I could use for a venue? Mr NCP, Duke Of Westminster, HRH? Its only for an hour or so. You can have a Technics turntable and some Calvin Kliens (one careful lady owner) in return.

I've been wearing my new non-branded sneakers for a week now, and I've developed a serious complaint on the soles of my feet. Truly, my plates have been so pampered by the branded luxury of adidas/ Reebok/ New Balance that they cannot suffer the zero cushioning/ support of my new shoes. Does any one know of any non-branded insoles I might buy?

Less than a month to go now, and I'm growing more anxious by the day. My therapist suggested that I go and buy some relaxation tapes, and practice breathing regularly. Some of that stuff does actually work, once you learn to ignore the dreadful Kenny G meets the Whales soundtrack. Breathe in, breathe out; forget the cost of burning all your gear. Breathe in breathe out; don't panic that you've only baking soda and mint with which to clean your teeth. Breathe in, breathe out; accept that you'll never eat a Snickers ice cream ever again. Breathe in, breathe out; remember that you're doing this for legitimate reasons, and not (as people who keep posting the blog suggest) simply to impress people who work on Radio 4 sociology programmes. I feel better already.

On a separate note, the gap between advertising and content just got that little bit smaller, as Budweiser announces that they are launching a film/ TV production company. For all those that once feared that culture would eventually be (not just paid for, but) created by brands, it is finally coming to pass.

Click here for the gory truth.

David from Low Budget Life posted the most fantastic comment on consumer debt a few days back, and I thought I'd flash it up here on the site proper. The following argument certainly rings true with myself and all the friends I have around me…..

<1>The consumer debt mountain is certainly responsible for fuelling the consumer frenzy, which probably start in the very late nineties and peak around 2002-2003 and has perhaps faltered a little since then with retail suffering, rapidly rising bankruptcies, accumulating unemployment.

If you think back to our grandparent's generation thrift and frugality were the dominant way of living. The baby boomers brought a massive materialism to society, which has probably got worse with Generation X/Y.

However, the Boomers seemed to strike it lucky by growing up with a period of rabidly growing prosperity the like of which may never be seen again in the UK. They had living wage jobs for life, received the full benefits the generous welfare state, free education, and had the option of buying a council property for a peppercorn price or else had their mortgage paid effort-free by high 70s and 80s inflation. When Thatcher sold off the council houses, allowed aggressive American style lenders into a deregulated market causing house prices to fly into orbit, again the boomers won big
.
Small wonder even blue-collar families could put three modern Ford cars on the drive, have big tellies, consumer goods, and holiday abroad. As a generation, the boomers were - comparatively speaking - rolling in disposable income. Women when out to work, initially not merely to cover the bills in a sweat as happens today, but to improve 'living standards' of the family (AKA buying more and more and more flashier stuff).

Generation X/Y grew up in this culture. Back where I grew up if your Dad did something skilled-working class or lower middle class you lived in a big airy semi or detached house. If you were poor your family lived in a reasonably spacious council house. Kids from council estates were always good to know as they always had satellite, VCRs (with all the latest pirate releases) and big hi-fis in there homes years before anyone else. If your Dad was an officer in the armed forces, a senior manager for M&S, or ran a small works on the local industrial estate you lived in a huge detached house with big double garage and large gardens. Some Mums worked, some didn't, but if they did work it was usually something part-time and not too strenuous.

Now in much of the South of England - especially the South East - if you young or youngish you'd need to have a well above average salary to afford to live in an ex-council house. Your partner would need a full-time, serious, high-stress job as well just to cover the costs. Having a kid would seem pipedream if you wanted one, as you're already maxed out. As many companies have downsized, deskilled and offshored over the last decade younger workers have less chance of landing a good job anyway. So many of my uni peers failed to land 'graduate' jobs and started in positions they could have wound up in with A-levels. So, all in all, there's a big chance as the baby boomers kids now aged 20-32 will struggle, as a whole, to attain the same standard of living in many respects as the 'poor kid's families' I knew growing up.

A lot of Generation X/Yers are waking up to this reality but a large number feel they have AN ABSOLUTE RIGHT to the kind of lifestyles their parents enjoyed and are using debt to make up the shortfall between reality and their desires. Worse, they are probably far more brand-orientated than their parents and want everything their parents had PLUS all the funky branded fashions, cool homes with magazine-like interiors, ipods, technowidgets, and slimline mobiles. A massive inflation of needs.

We need to wake up - our parents lived in a period of unprecedented growth in opportunity, while the kids live with a McDonaldisaed job market, globalisation where workers have to compete with low-paid workers in far off lands, student and consumer debt enslavement, a dishonest inflation measure that cuts our pay each year, no social housing and huge house prices. Overall we're poorer - much, much poorer, and plummeting prices on DVD players, iPods and Primark sweatshop clothes do not alter that reality..

As more young people become debt-slaves to the bank and end up bankrupt a lot of people are going to realise their heroic 'consumer confidence' in support of Gordon Brown's thin-air debt economy has done them no favours at all.

David and Anonymous,

You have both spotted a rather large hole in my project, which my therapist recently described as a 'cop out'. When I told her that I was travelling to Hong Kong to get some items of clothing copied (non-branded naturally), she suggested that if I were truly to divorce myself from branded status anxiety, I should be able to wear whatever I please without concern for others' reactions. You are right, in some circles, it is currently fashionable to wear non-branded gear. I'm not sure if that is a reaction to branded consumerism or a transitory fad for minimalism. Probably a bit of both. I do know that you can currently pay £100 for a pair of plimsolls that look just like mine (£4.99), only with a YSL logo inside; truly there will always be a clothes labels that can help you achieve an inexpensive look for the price of small house.

But hey, one step at a time.... I'm getting round to wearing sack cloths and plastic bag shoes in my next book.

'If I lost all my money and could only afford to buy trainers for a fiver, would this experiment be so revolutionary?'

In one sense no; this project is clearly the dilemma of someone who can actually afford to buy the stuff in the first place. However, I would say that ability to pay for non-essential goods, in the UK at least, has become irrelevant since credit has become so easy to obtain. Consumer credit in the UK now totals £211.6bn, and the average amount owed per person (excluding mortgages) is £9,000. This would suggest to me that the desire to own things and having the resources to pay for them are now bear little relation to one another. I always come back to the experience of the playground when I was in my early teens; all the working class kids at my school had the best trainers, footballs, computer games, whereas my middle class friends and I were far less branded. It is clear to me that our short term material desires are no longer constrained by finance, and we are in an almighty black hole of debt as a result. Could this be that we are manipulated to consume beyond our resources, or are we all simply very bad at home economics?

Click here for an interesting piece on the forthcoming Fast Food Nation film.

Cheers Holly.

As the Sept 17th bonfire date draws ever nearer, I've started panic buying replacements to my (previously) beloved branded gear. From ostentatious hyper-brands to no-key anonymity. Where I previously sought exotic colours, high-tech design and garish logos, I now seek…. primary school plimsolls. Honestly these were the kind of shoes you used to get beaten up for wearing at school, and now I'm actively seeking them out; the most bland, low profile, no name sneakers that money can buy. Guess how much they cost me? £4.99. I wouldn't have thought twice about paying £100+ for a pair of trainers before. I bought three pairs.

These plimsolls mark a victory over the playground bullies who have continued to influence my behaviour for all this time. My obsession with brands was borne out of the pressure that bullies exert over all kids to conform to their codes of behaviour. To be in, to be cool, you must amongst other things, have the right gear. From an early age I took that message to heart, and ever since I have been over-compensating for the expectations that those bullies placed upon me. In wearing these plimsolls, I feel like I am finally standing up to the bullies in the playground, the bullies in the fashion magazines and the bullies at the brands. I can wear whatever I bloody well want on my feet, without pledging some allegiance to a tribe, without sending signals to say who I am. I don't need a company logo on my feet to make me feel better about myself.

I forwarded my Innocent post, together with all your comments to the people at Innocent, hoping tob get some sort of a rise, and here's what I got back...

Neil,

Thanks for your thoughts - we’ll take whatever feedback is going.

If you make it down to Fruitstock next year it would be great to hear your thoughts on it.

Thanks again,

Rich

What a disappointment. It is now clear to me that the people at Innocent are either (a) very nice people who mean every gushing word they print on thne side of their bottles or (b) someone has given them a masterclass in PR. From all I read in the brand manuals, this response is at the very core of modern branding... the message, be it from the packaging to the promotion to the customer relations must remain consistent. If this is indeed true, Innocent must be one of the most lovely, caring places to work in the world ever. Good on them I guess. I'm still more of a PJ Smooties man myself.

Thanks to Holly Howe for sending me this.

There was a time when we enjoyed watching TV ads, because they were often more fun than the shows they interrupted. For one reason or another, that’s changed and advertising is seen as an irritation more often than not (we are over-sold to, the ads aren't as good any more). So the buzz in adland has for some time been to make branding become content. That is to say that the ad replaces the programme you turn on to watch. Micorsites like Lynx's do just that, supplying free video games, webchat and a blog, all of which is 'on message' to the brand, but still a darn sight more fun to watch than an average night's entertainment on ITV1. Once TV's converge with computers, it'll be Coca-Cola and Pepsi that provide a night in front of the box, not Channel Four and Sky, so the thinking goes.

Advertising as entertainment isn't a new thing though; the lines between the two mediums has been blurring for years, as anyone who's found themselves inside a brand-themed tent in a festival will know. But how about an entire festival built around the message of one brand? All the entertainment/ food/ drink supplied and themed around one product? That’s a bit spooky; only weirdo fanatics would go to such a thing. Well, this weekend just gone, over 100,000 people in London did just that. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Fruitstock, the mini festival from the people that bring you Innocent
Smoothies.



From the Fruitstock website…
Fruitstock is a free festival which we at innocent put on to say thank you to all of you for drinking our drinks. There's lots of live music, posh food and drink stalls, a farmers' market, a kids' area and all sorts of other things to see and do. It's completely free, it's happening in Regent's Park, London, on the 5th and 6th of August, and we hope to raise loads of money for our chosen charity, WellChild. Keep the weekend free, and your fingers crossed for good weather – we hope to see you there.

Love from innocent



Call me cynical, but alarm bells start to ring when I see this sort of thing; the cuddly, emotional language, the pseudo-ethical posturing, ughh, its disgusting. A normally sane friend of mine phoned up from the festival on Saturday and asked me if I wanted to come. To do what, eat bananas in field while the MD of Innocent introduces has-been professional hippy rappers Arrested Development on stage? Or watch children being lobotomised in the storytelling and reading workshop? Or practice the lotus in the yoga tent while blueberry smoothies are mainlined through a tube to your backside? Err, thanks, but no thanks.



Am I so bitter and twisted that I cannot accept a wholesome bit of fun when it comes my way? Or am I right in thinking that we abandon our rational selves whenever a free concert, a backrub and some fruit juice is on offer?



An interesting fact: more people attended Fruitstock on Saturday than Stop The War Coalition's Israel ceasefire march round the corner. Well, with a free cake stand and designated flirting area, who can blame them?

Disclaimer: I went to neither, choosing instead to do a spot of light window shopping on Marylebone High Street.

Picking up on the tent discussion (see two posts below), I now realise that I've bought lots of branded things on the promise that they are worth the extra cash, because they're 'what the pros use'. In fact, its one of the biggest confidence tricks of all time in branding… a good workman never blames his tools, but he uses the most expensive ones anyhow, otherwise he wouldn't be a pro now, would he?

Here, in no particular order are the pro-tools I own, for which I never use/ don't know how to use/ would like to use, if I could only find it under the pile of un-used stuff in my spare room.

Le Creuset Knives: I hate cooking and avoid it all costs

Salomon Pro Roller Blades: can't skate for falling arse over tit every ten minutes. And besides, whoever heard of a professional roller blader? Maybe as a cast member of Starlight Express, but that’s surely it.

DeWalt Pro Power Drill: combine the uselessness of my cooking skills with my skating prowess and you have the sum total of my DIY worth. But my, the drill looks fetching on a decent leather utility belt.

Tefal Ultra Glide Turbo Pro Steam Iron: need I say more?

The burning date has moved, for various reasons, to 17th September 2006. I can't reveal the location yet, but all I will say is that if you are in London, and want to come and support/ heckle me at the ceremony, you are most welcome. I'm also inviting people to declare their own brand amnesties by throwing something of their own to the flames.

For people of a more opportunistic state of mind, there should be ample opportunity for you to steal some of my gear from the pile before it's thrown on.

London Fashion week starts the next day, by a not entirely wild coincidence.

I thank you.