SAGGY AWARDS

The SAG (as in Screen Actors Guild) Awards on Saturday might just as well have been called the SAGGY Awards judging by the unfortunate bodice on Tina Fey’s Prabal Gurung gown, which did her ta-tas no favours. The red colour looked great on Fey; the dress not so much. Fey is not exactly overly endowed in the bosom department and the top kept pleating and puckering and pancaking her breasts. Her stylist should have inserted a chicken cutlets bra. 

Fey and BFF Amy Poehler presented the legendary Carol Burnett with the 2016 Lifetime Achievement Award. Burnett looked wonderful except for her helmet-head hairdo, which was exactly like William H. Macy’s. Surely there was a hairdresser in the house who could have fluffed Burnett’s ‘do up a notch.

There was certainly a lot of tinsel in Tinseltown that night. Nicole Kidman looked a hot mess in a pink glittery gown by Gucci. It was a pile-on of pale palettes, making her look anemic. Alicia Vikander totally outshone her in a spangled Mondrian-esque creation by Louis Vuitton.

The best dressed of the night hands-down was Kate Winslet in a dazzling hunter-green gown by Armani which hugged her in all the right places. Winslet is both womanly and willowy and has been known to eat a burger and keep it down. What’s going on with Demi Moore, the last presenter of the night? She is so painfully thin she could be vying for the Karen Carpenter Memorial Award. Seriously, give this girl a sandwich and while you are at it, take one over to skeletal Rooney Mara.

Leonardo DiCaprio is rapidly becoming the eminence grise of Hollywood and he is only 41. He could be the new Brando circa Godfather. All he needs is a pinkie ring to kiss.

Amy Poehler and Tina Fey flank honoree Carol Burnett at the "SAGGY Awards"

TEA'S COMPANY

I was invited to a tea party on Friday at the luxe Shangri-La Hotel in honour of pal, infatigable animal activist and fellow Litho (Lithuanian) Dana Baines Margolis’s birthday, hosted by swellegant luxury goods publicist Mary Symons. Also in attendance: Nolan Bryant, the Globe’s gadabout society scribe, a fixture at every party thrown by the one-percenters. There would be tea, finger sandwiches with crusts cut off and champers. I am so there.

What to bring to a tea party for the woman who has everything, including a house full of rescue animals?  Aside from spot cleaner for rugs? I opted for a vase and flowers from Teatro Verde, my gifting go-to. Here co-owner Michael Pellegrino is hard at work arranging the flora.

Dana Baines Margolis at the Shangri-La tea party partly obscured by an orchid. This is my obligatory token art shot.

This belt worn by our charming server at the Shangri-La reminds me of the highly coveted championship belt on one of my guilty pleasures, Lip Sync Battle.

A selfie taken in the ladies’ room at the Shangri-La after three glasses of champers. Cheers!!! Excuse the glazed expression.

This is my street-scene art shot at University and Queen while waiting for a streetcar. I am endlessly waiting for the Queen streetcar. It’s my Waiting for Godot. And when I finally board the streetcar, it is inevitably short-turned before I get home.

A bathing suit I am obsessed with at The Narwhal, one of my fave shopping venues. It is not only impossibly expensive – in the $400 neighbourhood – but who wants to try on a bathing suit in ghastly winter-white flesh, winter-weighty flesh and lack of bikini waxing? It is enough to scare the anchovies back into the water.

BY DESIGN

It was design central last week. The IDS (International Design Show) was in town generating parties all over the place, including at the Design Exchange (DX). I generally avoid the opening bash of IDS because it is a total clusterfuck. But I did dabble in the event, including attending the Monogram Dinner by Design at the aforementioned DX and a VIP dinner at Fring’s, a resto partnership between celeb chef Susur Lee and rapper Drake, to celebrate Caesarstone’s collaboration with hot British designer Tom Dixon. Dixon’s brand includes lighting, furniture, gifts and accessories; Caesarstone is a purveyor of primo quartz.

The DX event, presented by Caesarstone in support of Casey House and DX, featured installations of dining rooms by celebrated designers from Ashley Botten to Moriyama & Teshima Architects.

I experienced massive dining-room envy. The installations were incredibly inventive, putting to shame my vintage pine harvest table, which was distressed before distressed furniture was cool. The legs had been shaved to distraction by a succession of cats using them as scratch posts. At one point, my mother even wrapped the legs with hockey tape to thwart the cats. It didn’t work. The cats just shredded the hockey tape leaving it in tatters. Not a great look. I worry that the legs are so skinny/flimsy now, I will put a glass on the table one day and the whole thing will collapse.

The dinner at Fring’s was interesting. I loved the lighting fixtures and the bar chairs, shrouded in furry fabric. The ambient noise not so much. The acoustics are terrible, which is interesting considering Drake is in the music business.

It was an ambitious tasting menu – from oysters to grilled “asperagus” (the typo is theirs, not mine. Where is a proof reader when you need one?) and the food was served family-style. There was even Southern Spiced Maple Fried Chicken, which tasted like Susur had discovered the Colonel’s secret recipe.

Inexplicably, I was seated at the cool-kid’s table, which included dapper Tomos Lewis, Toronto bureau chief for Monocle mag, who was sporting a fabulous Liberty-print tie, and designer Tom Dixon, who table hopped in a retro brick-orange velvet suit, which he said he bought in London and whose previous owner was Eric Clapton.

Is he a huge Clapton fan?, I naturally asked. “Nope, not since (his band) Cream,” he demurred.

Moreover, he complained that the suit didn’t even fit.

Oh, okay.

Empty skull bottles make a Goth installation on the bar at the Monogram Dinner by Design at the Design Exchange. They formerly housed Dan Aykroyd’s vodka Crystal Head. What great candle holders they'd make.

Stylish and slinky Shauna Levy, director of the Design Exchange, Canada’s only museum devoted to design, sits one out. She is so hard-working, this is arguably one of the few times this dynamo isn’t on her feet.

I’m sandwiched between the coolest kids at DX event, designer guys Hal Eisen (left) and Andrew Bottecchia, partners in Bottecchia Artistic Group.

 

My fave installation at the DX is a decadent peel-me-a-grape theme by Commute Design that is described as Victorian but I see as more Roman Empire. All you need is a platter of suckling pig.

Runner up is a cityscape by Bortolotto that is very Manhattan penthouse. Cue the dry martinis.

A smashing tote bag by Tom Dixon that was part of the swag bag at the Fring’s dinner. It totally eclipsed anything inside it, which was primarily advertorial. I even got a shout-out to it on the TTC.

WINNER'S CIRCLE

I don’t normally get out of bed for less than 70 per cent off but I make an exception for Winners. Okay, we know it is hit or miss but when you hit, it can be epic – like the Rag and Bone black jumpsuit I scored for just over $100 because it was missing a button and it was seriously mislabeled. It was tagged a size 4 and I haven’t been a size 4 since I came out of the womb.

On Tuesday, Winners/Marshalls hosted their media spring preview at their Spadina showroom and I was so there.

The cool graffiti signage at the entrance to the showroom.  They should install it in one of their shops.

I am obsessed with these sandals, which are just the right side of skanky with a combo of camo and Versace chain.  The best Winners locations for shoes are College Park and Cloverdale Mall. Just sayin’.

This is my fave piece, a fringe belt – yes, a fringe BELT – to be worn over just about everything. Allegedly it has the endorsement of Kardashian Kendall Jenner, who rocked it over black leggings.

This lasared leather dress just screams Celine to me but at a fraction of the price.

The definitive winning combo: A soft mauve fedora – what a knockout colour and it actually fit my ginormous head – with the requisite platform brogues.

The best tank for your workout because who can’t relate to this? Behind it is a fabbo pair of Kate Spade floral pants.

SECOND HELPINGS

On Sunday afternoon, we screened the film The Second Time Around starring Linda Thorson and Stuart Margolin. It is a tender love story shot on such a shoe-string budget that Thorson wore clothing from her own wardrobe, including a fabulous Japanese-styled YSL robe.

The script is life-affirming, proving that love doesn’t have a best-before date. As I’ve always maintained: in your 20s, you can’t get your shit together. In your 30s, you get your shit together but you can’t lift it. In your 40s you lift it. In your 50s you sift it and in your 60s you shift it.

I haven’t gotten to the 70s yet.

Linda Thorson, moi and broadcaster Gloria Martin at the Second Time Around after-party at Monarch Tavern.

This from the rumours-of-his-death-have-been-exaggerated department. No, it’s not Alan Rickman. It is his doppelganger, producer Gene Mascardelli, Gloria Martin's partner, at the Monarch Tavern.

WINTER WANDER LAND

During my perambulations on public transit I encounter the wild and the woolly. Here are a few of my favorite sightings yesterday:

Homeless pigeons outside of St. Michael's Hospital, waiting for their walk-in appointments.

A gym dandy on the streetcar named perspire: He obviously works up such a sweat he doesn't need outer garments.

A purple haze at the Bay St. subway station. Cousin Itt called; he wants his coiff back.

THE NEW VINTAGE

Sandy Powell has been nominated for an Academy Award for Best Costume Design for her wardrobing on Carol. And she is a shoe-in; Powell might as well start making room for it on her mantle. She had me at the lead character’s iconic huge mink coat with shawl collar that represents Carol’s sophistication, wealth and social status. And it was very vintage.

“The mink was old and it kept falling apart,” Cate Blanchett, who plays Carol, told W magazine. “Between takes, Sandy Powell, the costume designer, would sew it back together by hand. I considered changing coats, but when you find the right thing, you know immediately. That coat was the one to tell Carol’s story. It was perfect.”

You won’t experience deteriorating clothing at 69 Vintage at 921 Queen St. W. Not only does the celebrated shop, owned by irrepressible Kealan Sullivan, only carry items in pristine condition, it even has designer Evan Biddell, winner of the first season of Project Runway Canada, on site tweaking and expert-tailoring.

And there is no telltale stinky old-clothing smell. It once took a bottle of white vinegar and three days of hanging outside to get rid of the fusty smell in a Mongolian fur jacket I’d bought in Kensington Market. Phew.

Bye-bye Magwood and Cabaret. Vintage stores are dropping like hemlines on Queen Street. Biddell says they need to get current to survive.  He is customizing vintage garments into on-trend pieces like removing the sleeves from coats and remaking them into outer vests.

He is also considering repurposing fur stoles into vests.

“Vintage is about service,” Biddell explains. “Without size runs it is hard to shop vintage so we offer custom tailoring for a piece you fall in love with but doesn’t fit right. It’s not about dressing head-to-toe vintage but having a balance of old and new so we are adding new pieces to the mix. We are also recutting existing vintage to update silhouettes.”

Kealan Sullivan and Evan Biddell give good face in the window area of 69 Vintage on Queen West, arguably the best vintage shop in town.

Anybody can stock vintage London Fog raincoats but who else has one in mauve? C’mon. Beside it hangs a mauve fur vest. I can’t stand it. What great entrance makers!

Here I am modelling a cool fur vest customized by Evan Biddell from a frumpy old coat. Thereby proving that repurposing vintage into new pieces doesn’t have to look icky “Preloved” crafty.

Evan Biddell with an ensemble that screams David Bowie. Biddell can even make you a Union Jack jacket.

   

REST IN PEACE, FROCK STAR

At a dinner party over the weekend, somehow the conversation drifted to the 2013 David Bowie retrospective at the AGO, specifically the iconic Union Jack jacket that Bowie collaborated on with the late Alexander McQueen. I lamented that I didn’t buy the version for sale at the AGO gift shop because it was priced around $400. My bad. When I saw it on a partygoer that summer, I almost ripped it off his back. I could have had a piece of history not just a fashion statement. 

Bowie died at age 69 on Monday and the tributes have been coming fast and furiously -- just as they should -- and I am piling on with mine.  We were far from BFFs but I did get to meet him once, after an Andrea Martin one-woman show. He and wife Iman had remained seated after the performance and I was introduced to them by the publicity person. They were a stunning couple; almost incandescent. I was not only taken aback by how much smaller they both seemed in the flesh (possibly because I was wearing vertiginous footwear) but how charming Bowie was, exuding an old-timey gallantry. 

Years later, I interviewed Iman in Ottawa during her stint on Project Runway Canada. She chaffed at being billeted in Ottawa but it was bearable because she got to go home on weekends to Bowie and their daughter Lexi.

This is a reasonable facsimile of the coveted Union Jack jacket that got away. Look for it to skyrocket on eBay.

A Chinoiserie jacket significantly less than $400 that I lusted after in a cool stall at the St. Lawrence Market’s  lower level at the end of food court. I didn’t jot the name down but will update next time I am there. The St. Lawrence Market online directory was useless.

Rob doing his best “kid in the candy store” pose at Domino Foods on the lower level at the other end from the clothing and accessories stalls. Domino is dangerous. They have the best bulk foods (way cheaper than Bulk Barn) including dark-chocolate-coated jujubes (I beg of you on bended knees deliver me from jujubes) and peanut butter infused pretzels.

Gotta love this Zoltzz Renfrew sign at the Ends bargain boutique in the Beach at 1930 Queen St. E. advertising their $1.99 sale. “Zoltzz” refers to Harold “Zoltzz” Weisfeld, owner of the shop.

HOLIDAZE

Happy New Year. The holidays are finito. It’s all over but the caloric aftershock. I am still suffering from fromage overdose. I consumed so much cheese I swear I have become lactose intolerant.

The upside is there are heavy-duty sales going on. On New Year’s Eve, I dropped by the Kind Exchange location in The Beach just for the exercise, lured inside by the 50 per cent off signage in the window. They were doing brisk business, primarily women seeking the perfect LBD for that night. They'd left it dangerously late, but everyone seemed to find something, thereby alleviating the eventuality of showing up at the party in underwear. 

I scored a Mickey Mouse tank for $3 (because a girl can’t have too much Disney product on her body), a Calvin Klein moto jacket for $17 and a Stella McCartney dress for $30, which I had interviewed at Winners for 10 times the price. I had a brief flirtation with a Danier black leather blazer but was discouraged from purchasing it by fellow shoppers who pronounced it too big and boring.  Such is the camaraderie among thrifters. 

Big bargoons are to be had at Anthropologie, my go-to for yummy dinnerware, specifically the hand-painted plates from Paris when they are on sale. I glommed onto an impossibly cute bunny bread-and- butter plate that was originally $14, marked down to $6.99 and reduced another 40 per cent. It was a no-brainer:  my Starbucks green tea latte costs more than that. 

But the granddaddy of savings is the $1.98 floor at Ends in The Beach. Everything is new and everything is $1.98 -- including trousers and jackets. Lots of samples but you have to be prepared to hunt. I cashed out with a bag of goodies totaling $18 and including a fake fur collar, three tank tops for Rob originally marked at $45 each, a wool beret with cool grommets and an army jacket. 

Merry markdowns everyone.

Our version of a Christmas tree this year -- because our kitten Sammy Davis Jr. Jr. is a one-cat wrecking crew. This arrangement somehow remained unscathed for a remarkable two weeks.

Me and Christine Henry, my bestie from grade 10, doing a selfie at the subway after our traditional holiday dinner in Greektown. The venues vary but the wine count is inevitably in the two-bottle range.

We had a minor holi-blaze this year involving the old-crow-regarding-skull installation on the kitchen window. The skull is a candle which I left unattended. No casualties, except the old crow got a hot foot.

I encountered this foxy TTC fare inspector at my local Starbucks. She manages to look like Pam Grier à la Foxy Brown even decked out in bulky Kevlar vest. But not all fare inspectors are so affable. I got yelled at by one for taking a photo of an ad in the subway. Apparently photography is forbidden on TTC property. Seriously?

Cute couple alert at our fave local eatery, Xola. They are fashionistas with complimentary head wear and are both texting after dinner, for which she picked up the tab.