Is it just me, or is Princes Street looking slightly less grim? As the crocuses start to pop out in its gardens, there have been a few positive stirrings. I suppose it couldn’t get worse, since the street seemed to reach its lowest ebb post-lockdown, when it turned into something of a zombie thoroughfare and the new St James Quarter sooked up its best shops like stars pinging into a black hole. Yes, we mainly have food chains appearing, but I’d say that’s better than empty fronts, mobile phone shops, or defunct bank branches that are hanging on by a frayed purse string. Or, please no, another branch of Kingdom of Sweets or the equally naff House of Treasure, with an amusing one star Google review that describes it as ‘a chocolate teapot’. Near Filipino chain Jollibee, we’ve got Generation Z pleasing places like the new Popeyes, since the youth's craving for lardy fried chicken can never be quashed, and there’s another viral chain, Blank Street Coffee, which is famous for its matcha and opened last month. I am afraid to say that I have a weakness for this Japanese drink, as it looks like Shrek has fallen into a blender, yet tastes pleasingly like earth and freshly cut grass. We also seem to have lost the strange pop-up food stand person, who was selling pots of sweetcorn outside Primark, though maybe I dreamt that. The Golf Sale sign holders seem to have disappeared too. Maybe they finally sold out of golf. There’s a branch of Japanese homeware shop Miniso opening soon, and the thrill of having our first Scottish branch of Uniqlo, which opened last year, still hasn’t abated. I went in there for a fresh banana bag the other day, and was kettled in the denim section for an entire 15 minutes. The Johnnie Walker Experience still seems to be popular, four years on, and passed its one millionth visitor milestone at the end of last year. Also, things, at last, seem to be happening at the old Jenners building, as it transforms into a luxury hotel, to open in 2027. I have also peeped my nose round the door of another new-ish hotel, 100 Princes Street, which had so far gone under my radar, and it’s plush-er than I could’ve imagined. So, things are improving gradually. Evolving, at least, as Edinburgh Castle looks on in its usually stoic fashion. I’m open to some of this change, though I draw the line at a 46m high big wheel for six months of the year in the gardens, as per Unique Assembly’s current plan to infantilize the city. Christmas is quite enough. Give us a breather. There are those who hark back to the street’s true glory days, but they were well before my time. It may be part of the UNESCO World Heritage Site, but it's been decades since Princes Street was truly classy. I’ve always thought of George Street as the more sophisticated sister, and at least it has a few decent restaurants. Taking a walk along Princes Street has always been a pick ‘n’ mix of sorts - a bit like the ones you’d get in their now defunct branch of Woolies. My cola cube equivalent and favourite shop of all time on this street was probably Razzle Dazzle, where I shopped for my primary school disco outfit and bought a black speckled turtleneck, pencil skirt and, the best bit, braces. I spent half the night dancing to Tiffany and the other half snapping that accessory, a la Bobby Ball. Of course, we all loved Topshop, which was across three levels at 30 to 31, and is eventually going to become a Numa net zero carbon emission hotel and restaurant. My muscle memory still draws me to that location, some weekends.If I miss a bus and have a spare 20 minutes, I think I'll pop into Tops…oh well, never mind. I was never a fan of department store Debenhams, which was like a series of interconnected burrows and dead-ends. Getting the lift was like landing on a serpent when playing snakes and ladders. You’d end up decanted on some strange mezzanine floor, where they only sold tagines and whisks. The current M&S has a similar lift situation. Just stick to the escalators - at least you can see where you’re going. Then there was Bhs, which had a ground floor that was packed with utter tat, though there was an amazing lighting department in the basement. John Menzies was another long term Princes Street resident. As a teenager, I once got caught shoplifting from there, except, plot twist, I was a goodie-goodie who had just been innocently browsing the stationery section. They couldn’t pin anything on me. In the Eighties, there was also Wimpy. We once had a primary school pal’s birthday there, which involved meeting the actual Mr Wimpy, aka the big-beaked friendly beefeater, though the kids kept trying to look up their skirt. And you wonder why chains don’t bother with mascots anymore. Even Ronald McDonald seems to have retired after the last remnants of clown likeability was stolen by Stephen King’s It. Anyway, as an Edinburgh lifer, I’ve passed along this street thousands of times. The best view of it is not from the ground, but the top deck of a bus, when you can see the caryatids outside Jenners, and the pretty white wedding cake curves of the Romanes & Paterson building, with its couthy tartan curtains, as well as the golden sandstone facades above Waterstones. Whatever happens on ground level is purely superficial and transient. The current occupants are mere custodians. Still, I do enjoy a matcha tea.