Sam Nicoresti is still figuring things out. “I don’t know what it means to be a woman,” says the stand-up partway through their new show, Baby Doomer. “But I’m fucking nailing being trans.” If they could just get their hands on the perfect skirt suit, perhaps the secrets to womanhood would be unlocked? Nicoresti’s search for this talismanic apparel takes them on a wild journey that involves a humiliating trip to a discount clothing emporium during Pride, a taxpayer-funded exploration of kink, and a mental breakdown fuelled by weed and magic.
Baby Doomer feels like a cathartic vomiting of raw emotion that tumbles out in the form of vivid storytelling and finely crafted asides. It’s a more stripped-back affair than Nicoresti’s previous shows: there’s no multimedia antics or zany props. In their place is a blistering, mile-a-minute monologue laying bare the uphill battle of trying to be one’s authentic queer self in 2025. High-street shops sprinkling some glitter on socks every summer is not cutting the mustard, but Nicoresti does find some glimmers of solace, be it a bit of kindness at their local gym or the cunty serve of a character from fiction who found their groove as a cave-dwelling, ring-obsessed grotesque.
The speed at which this show flies by is quite thrilling, but it’s even more potent when Nicoresti slows down to take a breath. For all its moments of rage and confusion, Baby Doomer’s exploration of the trans experience is a deeply moving and hopeful one.
Sam Nicoresti: Baby Doomer, Pleasance Courtyard, until 24 Aug (not 11), 5.40pm; Summerhall, 13 Aug, 3.40pm