BIDDELL'S LAST SUPPER

Hot, young obstreperous designer Evan Biddell threw himself a 33^rd birthday party worthy of Warhol at his home/atelier, the incredible and exotic Dali-esque Darling Mansion which looks like the set of a Gloria Swanson movie if she were a hoochie-coochie dancer. It was THE place to be on Tuesday night, sweetie darlings. Where else would you find designers, models, artists, photographers, stylists, ballet dancers, taxidermy and a python snake under one roof? I could have done without the reptile. As far as I am concerned, the only good snake is a dead snake, preferably in a purse or pair of booties.

Evan Biddell and his dirty-dozen disciples, twelve of his fave femmes/muses, re-enacting The Last Supper. I am at the extreme left and feel privileged to have made the cut. When asked whether I wanted to portray (apostle) Paul in the lineup, I demurred. I wanted to be Ringo.

Evan putting on a game face while being entwined by the python in the mansion’s living room. Ick! Is all I can say.

Model Aluad Anei in a Biddell creation accessorized by the snake. Double ick! So much for modelling being a glam profession.

The willowy Johanne doing her best Elvira in another Biddell design. She is not a model, just genetically blessed, damn her. I felt like the fat girl in the circus being in a house full of slinky mannequins.

Me and the divine Micheline Wedderburn, who gets her killer body from being owner/instructor at Quad Spin, in selfie mode. 

How talented is Evan Biddell? He repurposed the blanket I gave him to pimp up his pad into this fabulous coat. Now seriously! Think what he could do with a duvet.

A fireplace in the Darling Mansion, a Victorian pile built in 1888. It came with the place when the lovely and talented Tanya Grossi bought it and transformed it into a cornucopia of divine decadence.

A fanciful fanny pack purchased in France by stylist /producer Sarah Jay, who is obsessed with fanny packs. This is one I could actually conceive of wearing. It doesn’t scream tourist on holiday wearing worldly goods around ones mid-section.

And just when you thought Biddell and company couldn’t top the drama, a ballet dancer performs in the mansion’s moonlit garden.

FEST DRESSED

Egads, it is the beginning of the end of summer. You can’t feel it in the fetid humid air but there are ads for the CNE on buses and TIFF (Toronto International Film Festival) held its media press conference last week. The Room at the Bay is holding its last-gasp sale where things go up to 85 per cent off which make them affordable to mere mortals. I snapped up a killer pair of Armani linen slouch pants originally marked $800 for just a hair over $100. Did I need them? Get a grip. What’s need got to do with it? But they were the cost of a snack and cocktail in some overpriced and snotty eatery. You know who you are. So I have been keeping an eye out for goodies to wear at TIFF parties – presupposing that you are on the list.
 

I wandered into Avec Plaisir (or Avec Brassiere as I like to call it) on Friday to get a new white bra because my current fave spazzed out on me very publically at the corner of Broadview and Queen recently. I was waiting for a Queen streetcar (what else is new) and put my hands together behind my back to stretch out and my bra unhooked. Yikes! When I tried to discreetly hook it back up I had to hike up my white shirt in the process, which gave the rummies drinking behind me in front of the convenience store a free show.

Avec Plaisir owner Vasilia Panagakos is a genius. She remembers your “shape” and magically produces a dozen bras to try on and they all fit. While there, I wandered over to the half-price rack (what am I, a newbie?) and unearthed a couple of pieces meant for night wear that would be perfect for TIFF, including this exquisite black silk coat by La Perla that looks like a tuxedo from the front and on the back is a graphic that to me references the classic 1927 Fritz Lang film Metropolis.

The front of the coat, which is classic/sexy. All you need is a black camisole, black leather leggings and fuck-me shoes. Or you could dress it down with ripped jeans and black booties.

Another TIFF possibility is this La Perla Chinoiserie-inspired jacket that reflects the Boho trend that isn’t going away any time soon. The arms are cut like a kimono and the piece would be brilliant with flowy pants, jeans or even over a LBD, which jacks the look up a notch and prevents it from being safe and easy. It’s a film festival for god’s sake. Crank up the volume.

I love the signage on the back of a step sitter on Cumberland St. I have no idea what it means but who cares. It made me stop, look and snap.

One of the cool kids at Zara, where the summer sale is fizzling out but the fall merch is coming in fast and furiously. Note the metallic sneaks on the young woman and the cute on-trend fuzzy red ball accessorizing her purse.

Me with Deborah Ingram, personal shopping and image consultant at Hudson's Bay. Deborah is brandishing the highly coveted Lanvin purse, which I am plotting to steal from her. Also I want her job. Imagine getting paid for dressing people with merchandise pulled from The Room and neighboring Sak's Fifth Avenue. I am holding a Lanvin box which houses a killer necklace reduced from $2,200 to $400.

A brilliant knock-off at Zara of the coveted Givenchy satin bomber jacket that retails about $3,000. Zara’s is under $200.

SUN OF A BEACH

As the Lovin’ Spoonful so aptly put it “Hot time summer in the city, back of my neck getting dirty and gritty.” And this is even in The Beach area of T.O. which catches a breeze.  As I make my perambulations around the ‘hood, here are a few of the things that are catching my eye.

There is a major reno at Queen and Glen Manor wrapped in scaffolding that invites locals to inscribe what they like best about The Beach. There are the usual rhapsodies about the boardwalk blah blah blah but what I found most arresting was the graffiti.

You can grow old waiting for the Queen streetcar. And then it short turns you. And then you die. Spotted this skateboarder and his accomplice catching some rays while waiting ... and waiting and waiting . . .

 It pays to advertise, even if it is in a cart outside a rival restaurant. The chutzpah!

This girl's got it all going on. Purple hair, great tatt and dramatic back interest in dress.

Hair apparent: The gorgeous Amanda, who works at Motion boutique on Cumberland, one of my favourite guilty pleasures.

No, the doggie in the window of Masterpiece Gallery is not wearing a lampshade during a particularly riotous party. But it does make for an arresting vignette.

A GEM-BOREE

This weekend I visited my old pal and trusty California travelling companion Wendy Zelsman at her home in Lakefield, both to catch up and to collect the vintage leather Mickey Mouse Club stool I purchased last winter from the now defunct Circus “curious & unique home furnishings and antiques” shop in Peterborough. I had to schlep the stool home on the Go train but it made for a curious and unique accessory. And I am always curiously and uniquely accessorized.

After rolling out of bed on Friday, we trekked to Bancroft for the 53^rd annual Bancroft Rockhound Gemboree housing Canada’s largest gem and mineral show spread over two vast buildings. We wandered around for over four hours until Wendy’s husband Howard read us the riot act and reminded us that their dog Comet back home could only cross his legs for so long.

There were tons of DIY supplies, including these silk tassels which have a multitude of uses, not only for stripper’s pasties.

I know that these pieces of quartz are dyed but the colours are so yummy.

A selection of peridots, which happen to be the August birthstone. In fact, a peridot was in a quasi-engagement ring of mine, not because it was my birthstone but because I liked the setting. The ring lasted longer than the relationship.

A display of Baltic amber, of which I have tons. My dad brought me back bags full from a return trip to Lithuania. These stones have bugs fossilized inside, making them all the more valuable. There is no yuck factor involved; they are quite dramatic.

This is an amazing Afghani silver disc, allegedly 150 years old, that Wendy especially lusted after. The vendor told us he would return home to remote villages, knock on doors and offer cash for antiques. It was a good story even if it may or may not be true.

Wendy posing thoughtfully in front of a friend’s fireplace that houses a decoy over her left shoulder that she has her eye on. I preferred the Zen head hanging on the mantel.

Me in my florals beating my way through the underpants in the jungles of Stoney Lake.

This is the perpetually-animated and terminally adorable Atticus, Wendy’s grandson, who is doing his best Baryshnikov while test-driving a tutu which I’d bought for his imminent baby sister, due next month.