Last modified on Thu 8 Jul 2021 06.53 EDT You canât polish a turd, but you can clad it in bronze-coloured steel. Edinburghâs new W Hotel is proof. Poking its faecal peak above the historic skyline, puncturing the globally cherished panorama of elegant stone steeples and spires, this shimmering pile is evidence that, despite all the Unesco World Heritage site protections, conservation group campaigns and lengthy planning negotiations, shit still happens. Trumpeting the arrival of the £1bn St James Quarter retail-hotel-housing behemoth to the Georgian New Town, the bronzed coil now butts on to the horizon from practically every prospect of the Scottish capital. From some angles, it appears to squat on other buildingsâ shoulders, like an unfortunate deposit dropped from on high. From others, it looms up in the background, standing as a menacing dung heap at the end of axial vistas (perhaps appropriately in the case of the Melville monument, providing a soiled backdrop to a man who delayed the abolition of slavery). Just when you thought youâd evaded the gilded mess, its pert tip rears up above the rooftops with a mocking flick.