WHEN Hollywood A-lister Brad Pitt was in Glasgow filming his zombie epic World War Z, the joke was that Brad should visit The Barras before he left - so that he could buy a copy of his film as soon as they finished shooting it.

It's a gentle smirk at the fact that The Barras, that area of East End devoted to stalls of clothing and bric-a-brac, has a less enviable reputation as a home for all things counterfeit, whether it be tobacco, DVDs of the most recent films, or computer games. Mind you, Police Scotland appear to go unchallenged when they claimed, as they did recently, that counterfeit goods seized at The Barras were worth £2 million.

Not that I would suggest that the police simply pluck out huge figures from the air in order to grab easy headlines for their grandstanding activities. But I would like to see the impressive police officer who could set up a stall at The Barras and sell the counterfeit goods for two million quid. He'd be head-hunted to run Marks and Spencer if he could achieve that return.

The more cynical suggest the police sweep of the stalls was a warning not to sell any goods bearing a Commonwealth Games logo, as the Games organisers want to corner that lucrative market for themselves.

It was, however, another off-putting, negative story about The Barras. Nostalgia is one thing, recalling a vibrant marketplace of your youth with joke-cracking spielers offloading cheap tea-sets, but do you go there nowadays to rub shoulders with criminals? Surely not.

My own first encounter with The Barras was looking for a second-hand kilt for a World Cup trip abroad with the Tartan Army. Yes, it shows how old I am that I saw Scotland in a World Cup final. Me and the kilt's tartan-loving fleas enjoyed the trip to West Germany.

I returned to The Barras when setting up my own flat and needed a second-hand gentleman's wardrobe. Found a good one too. When the perspiring deliveryman from The Barras arrived - a chap as broad as he was long - and I explained it was three floors up and did he want a hand, he looked at me in suit, shirt and tie, told me: "Naw, you're awright", and proceeded to stagger up the stairs with the wardrobe on his back. I couldn't even qualify as a deliveryman's assistant.

At the weekend, though, Barras Art and Design, a new name to me, was holding its first craft fair at The Barras. So was the old place still worth a visit?

The Barras, or The Barrows, really were originally just that - hand-barrows which lined Clyde Street selling old clothes until they were evicted in the early twenties. Margaret McIvor, who hired out barrows to street-traders, saw her business was in danger, so she bought land in the Calton and let sites to the pitchless barrow traders. Over the years a roof was added, and the barrows were replaced by stalls.

Times change, and with stores such as Poundland and charity shops on the High Street, plus eBay and Gumtree on the internet, the whole raison d'être for The Barras is in question.

"Just bulldoze the lot," someone will argue, but do we really want another faceless shopping mall built in its place with all the same shops as all the other malls?

There are fortunately signs of renaissance at The Barras. Walk along the Gallowgate to the Calton from the city centre and you will see a green park being laid out where the derelict Schipka Pass used to be and where Jags fan Dick Barton used to advertise "We buy rubbish and sell antiques". The idea is to make the paths into The Barras less intimidating for tourists.

There are fewer stalls open than before. A chap is walking around quietly shouting - if that is possible - "tobacco" out of the side of his mouth but it's hardly in-your-face. The oldest pub, The Sarry Heid, or Saracen Head to use its formal name - it seems to have lost the S as well as the apostrophe - is being refurbished.

There are stalls of just tat, but there are gems if you look hard enough. One stall is selling old Tennent's lager cans, with the lager lovelies on the side, as antiques. I am old. I know some of the girls on the cans. Jim Gemini, a psychic medium is in session. Good job he wasn't born in late June as his name then would be a tad offputting.

And there in the middle is the old courtyard, refurbished with a glass roof as Barras Art and Design, now home to young designers. One of the companies, the Glasgow Furniture Collective, is run by five former City of Glasgow College students, mainly refurbishing furniture.

Nicola Williams tells me: "We're still finding our feet, but it's a great space so near town. I'm very happy."

The Canny Squirrel stall is selling hand-made cushions with beautiful animal designs. An oasis of style amidst the tat outside.

Former Hibs footballer turned civil engineer Norrie Innes is helping to promote this rebirth of the Barras. Says Norrie: "We want to retain the grit, and add a wee bit of gloss."

The next stage will be more events like the craft fair at Barras Art and Design. Recycled shipping containers are going to be laid out on spare ground to give a home to more young artists, designers and craft people.

Selling sports socks might become redundant, but a new generation working in music and design will bring a punky vibrancy to The Barras. Every city needs an area of rough energy where folk push at the barriers of an otherwise homogenised world. It should be encouraged.

If only I'd stopped to ask Jim Gemini how successful the rebirth will be.