A week or so ago, over the first weekend of February, Young Thug took temporary possession of a stall in London’s Camden Market. For those unversed in the north London destination, it’s a lagoon of bang-bang chicken vendors, dampened vintage denim jeans, punk rock t-shirts, cro-nuts. Basically: the sort of shit you might read about in Time Out, cohabiting with the ghosts of London’s past and the scents of its future.
Young Thug’s stall (which ended up being more like a shop inside a two-tier barn) was called Slimeland. Inside, there were clothes, cans of lemon-flavoured Fanta, fruit roll-ups (Thug’s favourite, apparently), and a few individuals who were there to model the clothes to paying customers. Outside, there were the fans. A whole lot of fans. The kind of fans who will wait a minimum of four hours in harsh February temperatures to maybe purchase a denim jacket with the words Young Thug printed on the back.
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There were whispers Young Thug would be arriving. That’s why we were there with a camera crew (and you can see what went down the last time we stood around waiting for Young Thug to turn up somewhere). Here’s what happened.
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