MERRY MERCHANDIZING

On Christmas Eve, I did the last-dash shopping/errand thing uptown in Yorkville. It wasn’t as crazy busy as expected but it was uncharacteristically warm which accounted for isolated sightings of shorts wearers amid the Santa hats, making for a strange juxtaposition. The shorts were universally worn by men, not unusual because winter is black tights time. I mean really, who has time to shave legs during the holiday season and besides, furry legs constitute another layer of warmth.

Marcus O’Hara has been playing Santa at Roots' flagship Bloor location for years. Event planner “Party” Barbara Hershenhorn, who hopped on his lap for a photo op, jokes that she’s auditioning for the role of elf. Note how the pooch perfectly blends into Santa’s beard.

Shoes.com opened a bricks-and-mortar store on Queen West this month. I checked it out and thought it was meh. Nothing jumped out and begged to follow me home. But I give them credit for amping up the advertising by having a chip wagon offering coffee in front of the shop. Too bad I don’t drink coffee.

The streetcar was taking its own sweet time to come so I nipped into the Kind Exchange thrift shop at Queen and Soho, lured in because of the “50 per cent off sign” in the window. It is a big store, but I concentrated at the front and took a handful of items into the dressing room. I bagged a cool Anne Klein burgundy jacket with fur collar which set me back a measly $12. It wasn’t as cheap as the $1 brand-new Chinoiserie jacket I scored at Missions for Bibles in Owen Sound but what is?  

The H&M ad at the bus shelter in front of Kind Exchange has been bastardized by a flyer pasted over the model’s head. It actually works better that way.

Two yupscale bikers were parked on Bellair St. in front of Rolo, arguably the best funky card and outrageous gift shop in town.

This happening doorman in front of Holt Renfrew rocks a definite Lenny Kravitz vibe. Note the schleppy shopper in shorts beside him.

 The flower shops at Ave. and Dav were doing a blooming business on Christmas Eve. Cut flowers at our house are a crap shoot. Our kitten Sammy Davis Jr. Jr., aka “The Cat That Ruined Christmas,” insists on flower de-arranging.

Amid the sea of black in the subway, this commuter stands out in her Christmassy red and green coat. You go girl.

This little cutie was dolled up in her shimmery holiday finery at Starbucks on Christmas afternoon. Her red earrings were made of flashing lights. How is she going to top herself when she hits adolescence?

Our cat Richard Parker, stoned on catnip on Christmas morning from the green bag in the background. Parker was all over the nip when I brought it home in my gym bag. He’d sniffed it out among my sweaty gym gear.  

FLEA MARKET STRATEGY

Intrepid traveler that I am, I spent last weekend in beautiful downtown Lakefield and environs visiting my pal Wendy Zelsman, with whom I have adventured for decades, including yearly trips to California driving down the coastal highway from San Fran to L.A. in various permutations of convertibles -- including a memorable “shit brown” rust-bucket -- all the while massacring hit songs at the top of our lungs. 

During one trip, we test drove every brand of tequila in assorted dive bars from Sausalito to Merced, arguably the armpit of California. Can’t remember what brand we judged the best.  

Wendy is a nurse and as such, had the perfect remedy for tequila hangovers, which invariably involved more tequila. No tequila was harmed during this last trip however; mainly because Wendy had either run out or misplaced it.

While banking at the CIBC prior to catching the bus to Peterborough, I noticed this little fellow mimicking the bank’s penguin mascot, which ranks right off the chart on the cuteness Richter scale.

My fave shop in Peterborough is CIRCUS “curious & unique home furnishings and antiques” at 382 George St. This skull is painted by artist Jimson Bowler, who also made the amazing one-of-a-kind necklaces which accessorize it. Bowler needs to have a one-man pop-up show in Toronto, he is that innovative.  You aren’t going to see these pieces at Holt Renfrew.

The Virgin Mary beaded curtain in The Benevolent Stranger boutique at 212 Hunter St. in Peterborough which demarcates the entry to the women’s sex shop behind it. I bonded with the curtain because I have one of Our Lady of Guadalupe which ushers in something less esoteric in my house. It’s in the kitchen doorway.

Natalie Williams, the cool owner of The Benevolent Stranger, which looks like a hippie dippy head shop from the outside but actually stocks funky clothing and accessories and here’s the best part  – it doesn’t smell of patchouli.

The Saturday Farmer’s Market in Peterborough is a must. There is everything from produce to fuzzy cat kitsch to Russian borscht, which is just as yummy as my mom’s but I would never tell her so for fear of reprisal.

Nicole Laureen Lewis, designer behind Gon Dancing, at her booth where she sells handcrafted apparel she’s made from 100 per cent recycled materials. Her arm and leg warmers are killer.

These are the grey patent leather brogues that got away from me at Talize thrift store in Peterborough. They are men’s but I am not prejudiced. They were too big to even stuff with thick socks. But I am over it. It’s not like I will go bare foot.

A coat at Talize that looks like Chanel but is actually Joe Fresh, marked at $49 but with the original $149 price tag. It was rather out of place with the other coats on the rack which were priced in the $20 neighbourhood.

This “Crap Taxidermy” book makes for a perfect stocking stuffer for the person on your list who has everything. It is outrageous. Just pour yourself a stiffly-spiked eggnog and enjoy.

 

The obligatory horns and reindeer head circa 1943 from the Lakefield Fairground Sunday Flea Market. The toboggan did a photo bomb.

How could I not take a photo of the doll lamp at the flea market? What tutu-obsessed little girl wouldn’t want one?

I bought this Scottish hat from vendor Chris Palmer, who chided me for wearing the feather incorrectly in the front. Palmer is endearingly irascible, reminiscent of the Marty Millionaire brothers, owners of the former MM furniture shop in Toronto who routinely threw me out of their shop.

A pair of hilariously repurposed toasters in the snack shop at the flea market. As clever as they are, they are actually outdone by the jaunty jester cap worn by the vendor.

BAH HUMBAG

Two of my favourite words are “70-percent off,” a phenom occurring more readily in the U.S. than in Canada, especially before Christmas. So when I got a text from a pal with the image of the black Proenza Schouler iconic PSI bag with fringe that I have been lusting after and the info that it was on sale for 60 percent off at The Room in Hudson’s Bay on Queen St., I started salivating.

I am an unrepentant bag hag and shoe slut. Shoes are my crack: I swear I will be found in a ditch with a stiletto in my arm. I just had to nip over to The Bay and interview the bag.

It wasn’t exactly cheap, but as another pal pointed out, I have been a good girl and I can amortize it per wearing because I wear my bags to death. In fact, I had to retire a Donna Karan bag woven à la Bottega Veneta because my friends were sick of seeing it.

Besides, this bag can help make up for not having our highly-anticipated annual faux black sluts-and-shoes Christmas tree this year. It is traditionally topped by a drunken cupie doll in flapper attire and laden with permutations thereof accessorized by tons of shoe ornaments.

Alas, not this year. We have a very naughty and clumsy black kitten named Sammy Davis Jr. Jr. who is a one-cat wrecking crew, responsible for breaking at least five lamps and clearing the mantle of everything on it. We call it tchotchke control.

As we were hauling out the tree for assemblage last Saturday, Sammy climbed up the only surviving plant in the house. He has been known to climb up walls. Visions of broken decorations and assaulted cupie dolls supplanted sugar plums in our minds. So we packed it in and Sammy will be henceforth known as the "Cat That Ruined Christmas” (or for short, the oddly familiar-sounding "CTRC").

My new bag is consolation.

 

Words to shop by at the entrance to The Room in Hudson’s Bay on Queen Street. They are attributed to the legendary photographer Bill Cunningham, who started the street-style paparazzi phenom and inspired poseurs everywhere.

The purse sales table at The Room, where a staffer complained that the shoppers aren’t respecting the merch and treating the expensive bags, which had an entry-level price just under $1,000 even on sale, like rough trade.

This is the furry beast that got away. It is a Proenza PSI bag, but it is not the one I bagged for myself. It reminded me too much of my deceased cat, Onslow.

Dale, my affable sales associate at The Room whom I’d met at a party last summer where we bonded over our ensembles. We both wore identical Church’s studded brogues and Chanel brooches like we were evil twins from other mothers.

A random shoe shopper at Hudson’s Bay who is terminally cool. I want her boots.

My go-to happy hour is 4-6 p.m. at the bar at Museum Tavern, the Bloor St. W. reincarnation of Bistro 990, where the oysters are buck a shuck and the wine is $6 and actually drinkable. Bartender Ryan is building me the perfect martini, which comes with a mighty flourish of dry ice. “It’s not a rush unless the keg blows,” Ryan cracked.

Martini madness: The finished product, accessorized by my cell phone-cover, a frankly faux Chanel anchored by a Louis Vuitton lock, which is the real deal. One out of two ain’t bad.

The Hermès window on Bloor Street, not remarkable because the scarf is so boho but because the mannequin is swarmed by squirrels, one of which is decked out in a festive red sweater. What was the window dresser smoking?

IT'S BEGINNING TO LOOK NOT LIKE XMAS

It’s the festive season even though it feels more like spring than winter and we’re more likely to get a wet Christmas than a white one. An early gift was the screening of director/photographer Gail Harvey’s doc Rickie Lee Jones: The Other Side of Desire, at TIFF Lightbox last Thursday.

The doc is named for Jones's new album, her first of original music in a decade. It was a poignant, life-affirming, challenging, nostalgic, humorous and touched on issues like misogyny in the music business and the invisibility of women over 40 in general (which makes it easy to shoplift as an episode of Six Feet Under documented). Then there’s the kick-ass music -- the reaffirmation of the quirky talent who did not peek with “Chuck E’s in Love.” Who knew she was such a talented musician that she can play a range of instruments including an organ without instruction? We who labored torturous hours over piano lessons and stank at it are duly humbled.

Here’s the movie poster for Rickie Lee Jones: The Other Side of Desire. The album makes a great Christmas gift – hint, hint. The doc traces the recording of it. In some shots I found her reminiscent of Joni Mitchell.

Rickie Lee Jones with director Gail Harvey in Jones’s home in New Orleans. The two women bonded and became friends. I covet the distressed cabinet in her kitchen.

A call to arms as Gail Harvey takes a bow after the screening of her film at the TIFF Lightbox.

Rob (not David Crosby, who by the way is in the doc), singer Micah Barnes and I do a group hug after the screening. Clearly I should have stood on a box at the Lightbox.

There was no red carpet at TIFF Bell Lightbox for Gail’s film but surprisingly there was one in front of St. Louis Wings Bar and Grill on Queen St. in the Beach that night. Go figure.

Best Xmas dec on the block: Poor Santa is falling off the roof in the Beach. And no, it wasn’t on Fallingbrook Drive.

Two of the fashionable black brigade shopping in Yorkville over the weekend.

An exception to the black widows was this delightful shopper in bright blue with fabulous snakeskin boots from Italy.

After an absence of several weeks -- it is party season, folks -- I went back to Quad Spin on King St. West for penance. Ouch. It takes a couple of classes to tough it out and get your crotch callous back. Micheline Wedderburn, owner/founder of Quad Spin, is the best advert for spinning. She has a rockin’ bod, decked out here in animal-print pants and fake fur vest.

OWEN SOUND ADVICE

I spent last weekend in Owen Sound visiting my pal Janine Fawcett, an entertainment and consumer p.r. consultant specializing in media relations and owner of J9 Communications and Right Channel Speakers bureau.

I have known Janine since she did p.r. at O’Keefe Centre, which predated Sony Centre, where she was the handler of boldface such as Liberace. We bonded over a trip to Buffalo, ostensibly to interview her assigned Robert Goulet, who was headlining in Camelot, with a memorable side trip to the historic Anchor Bar, reputed to be the original home of the Buffalo chicken wing. I subsequently dubbed the trip as “shuffling off to Buffalo on a wing and a beer.” 

Goulet kept in touch by sending me a Christmas card every year with a portrait of himself and wife Vera in evening attire. Every year Vera’s waist kept getting thinner -- those days predated photo shop so she simply used white-out to whittle away the waist- -- and her plastic surgery kept escalating, as did Goulet’s dark hair colour, ending up even blacker than Liberace’s. 

I have a collection of these cards. Reviewing them is as much a Christmas ritual as our sluts-and-shoes theme-decorated jet-black fake Christmas tree. 
And there was much thrift shopping in Owen Sound. It is not as good as thrifting in Oakville but not too shabby either.

Friday coincided with First Friday Festive, where retailers on the main drag (2^nd Avenue) stayed open until 10 p.m. and offered goodies like chocolates to shoppers even if they didn’t buy anything. One of the first stops was the addictive home/accessories shop Bare Birch which is Restoration Hardware meets Love the Design. I am a sucker for all things moose and reindeer.

This is the bag at Bare Birch that got away. Love it but don’t need it and more importantly, don’t have room to schlep it home.

Plotzed over these Elton John Meets KISS boots, part of the set decoration at Dr. Cobbler’s Shoes & Swirls, which is big on skull and Marilyn Monroe motifs as well.

Here I am decked out in two layers of tops at Cora Couture, which is the Owen Sound equivalent of Motion boutique in Yorkville. Cora staffer Suzanne Saville wins the Miss Congeniality Award of the trip.

A seasonal display (poinsettias and the signage “Jesus is the reason for the season”) behind the counter of the Salvation Army thrift store, which dispenses free bibles to shoppers. This is God’s country, Virginia.  

This sombrero caught my eye at the Salvation Army thrift store, the perfect gift to commemorate a trip to Mexico thereby avoiding all the tequilas ingested before you succumb to buying one and schlepping it home on the plane.

The sign for the Bibles For Missions thrift shop on 18^th Avenue. The bibles are optional.

Janine in full-on bargain-hunting mode as custodian of the shopping cart at Bibles For Missions. I scored big time. Women’s pants were on special that day for $1; blazers were $2. The pieces de resistance: a Chinoiserie silk jacket for two bucks for moi and a genuine silk Hawaiian shirt actually made in Hawaii for Rob for $4!

The signage at Twice Is Nice thrift shop in Clarksburg, a neighbouring town of Owen Sound.  The sales money goes to cat refugees; standout items were the highly collectible Fitz and Floyd china cat mugs and pitcher. 

Antique treasures straight from the horse’s mouth at Danfield Antique Furnishings & Fine Art in Clarksburg. The horse outside drew us in.

Amazing artifacts inside Danfield include a gun chest covered in deerskin with rose-head nails from Vermont circa 1750-1770 and priced at $1,350 and this exceptionally rare armoire stained with blueberries dating back to 1830 from a French settlement in what is now Windsor. It is priced at $15,000. A Toronto dealer could snap both these gems up and easily sell them for triple the price. Just sayin’.

Thrifting works up an appetite. I inhaled this breakfast pizza – complete with two poached eggs – at Bruce Wine Bar/Kitchen on Bruce St. in Thornbury, which has tons of cool stores. It is like Collingwood Lite.

And it wasn’t all retail. We did a Sunday drive to Flesherton, where another pal, Linda Reader, has a charming farm. Here is her vintage apple tree.