FOGO A GO GO

So I have been out and about in the spring drizzle doing nothing as fabulous as meeting Iris Apfel, but that is like seeing a unicorn twice. But meeting Fogo Island Inn founder Zita Cobb didn’t suck either -- two landmark women within several weeks! It is to plotz.

For the uninitiated, Fogo is the largest of the offshore islands in Newfoundland/Labrador and the trendiest/hottest travel destination. "Fogo Island is a salty Narnia," says Zita.

Me and the aforementioned Fogo Island Inn founder, social entrepreneur Zita Cobb at the Holt Renfrew reception on April 12 for their Fogo Island pop-up shop featuring such artisan goodies as hand-made quilts. Fogo Island is home to 2,400 people in 11 communities. Cobb grew up poor on Fogo but is making up for it. Her inn has a two-night minimum with rates starting at $1,545 Canadian with a three-night minimum in July and August. Too rich for my blood but there are B&Bs on the island.

 Bumped into Hans Gerhardt, genial former GM of Sutton Place Hotel (or the “Slutton” as we used to call it) and his gracious wife Helga at the party. Ahhh. We have such fond memories of the Slutton’s Loni Anderson/Burt Reynolds memorial suite and hearing Shelley Winters anecdotes from the hotel’s legendary butler Werner Jankowski, which got more colourful depending on the amount of champagne he consumed.

Yummy grilled octopus from Buster’s Sea Cove eatery at the seafood end of the St. Lawrence Market. We braved the cluster fuck on the day before Easter to get turkey parts and scarf down this dish, best octopus I’ve had since Greece.

When I went to university I hung out at pubs sipping flat draft beer (I hated beer and drank it through a straw fashioned from a piece of red licorice – I know, so wrong for so many reasons) in jeans and a shapeless T-shirt. So I was taken aback so to speak to spot this coed at the Duke pub on Prince Arthur in her backless black top. Kudos to her; I never could pull that look off.

Me at the Winners location at Bathurst and Lawrence, one of the best sources for Runway items. I am auditioning a Christian Dior black swing coat reduced from whatever to about $1,300 which is still undoable. A fellow shopper agreed. “Winners has to get over themselves charging that much.”

A close-up of the coat, which didn’t fit me but will be a good fit for someone in the Forest Hills neighbourhood. At least I had a Christian Dior on my back.

If my fellow shopper was outraged over the price tag on the Dior, she had a meltdown when I showed her this Etro man’s white cotton shirt with embellishment. It was marked at $399.99 “comparable at $680.00.” Seriously? Charging $700 for a white shirt with froufrou at the neck? It must be palatable in a parallel universe. In some galaxy Gene Roddenberry is smiling.

Me and fabbo femme around town Val Dooley celebrating her “fossil” birthday party on Sunday at Dora Keogh Pub on the Danforth. Val has undergone tons of iterations from restaurateur to realtor. I have known her since she had the fashion line Toots way back in the ‘80s when we were zygotes.

Me, writer Rosie Levine and photographer/image consultant Yanka Van der Kolk doing peace work at Val’s party.

Who doesn’t love a bargain? As I have always said, full price is for amateurs. So I was chuffed to get this perky pair of fuzzy slides almost free.

They are knockoffs of the hot ones from Prada which retail for about $450 a foot. Not gonna happen. So I checked the Nordstrom website and found reasonable facsimiles from knock-off czar Steve Madden going for a palatable $40 but they were sold out in the bold colour combo. Oh well. Then during a drive-by at the Winners Dundas Square location, I spotted these beauties that were knock-offs of Steve Madden by the Qupid label priced at $20. Gotta love it. Sold!!!!

I really didn’t need another hat; I’d have to be a multiple-headed hydra to wear all the ones I already have. But I sauntered into the BCBGMAXAZRIA  shop on Bloor Street because they were advertising a closing sale with up to 80-percent reductions.

How can a girl resist that siren song? I scored this 100-percent wool topper in an intoxicating moss green regularly priced at $110, reduced 50 percent then take off another 30 percent. Hello? I am so there.

RESERVOIR CATS

Okay so I did slack off. But I am baaaaccck.

Nothing like a good party to get me out of my slacker-mode doldrums and test drive that new Denis Gagnon frock I bought in Montreal months ago. 

Reservoir Lounge was celebrating its 20^th anniversary last Tuesday night with an open bar and yummy munchies. Twenty years in the bar/swing club business is a remarkable achievement, especially considering the number of landmark Toronto venues closing down. 

The Rez has hosted everyone from Michael Bublé, once the club's regular Friday-night crooner, to a visiting Prince, back when he was living on the Bridle Path. Preceded by his lackeys, His Royal Purpleness came in, sat in a back booth and drank his merlot through a straw. He asked for fries, which were not on the menu, so a staffer was dispatched to nearby McDonald’s for an order.

Now that is customer service. The bands are hot, the martinis cold and dry and the ambiance unbeatable. What more do you want for a watering hole? Happy 20^th Rez.

 

Me with Reservoir Lounge owner Hae-Soon Chung. I know,  I know -- the photo is fuzzy. And that was BEFORE we started drinking.

Rob Salem and JazzFM broadcaster Jaymz Bee, amiable and smartly-attired co-hosts of the evening. Had Rob not gotten a haircut and his Grizzly-Adams-meets-Gabby-Hayes beard trimmed, they would have looked like the same person.

A couple of old regulars at the Rez, swinging on the dance floor. The bands are so infectious, even I danced. The bubbly helped.

Me and the legendary Iris Apfel at Jonathan + Olivia, one of my fave boutiques in the city. Apfel was in town last Thursday for an Atelier Swarovski trunk show and reception at J+O. The iconic 95-year-old, who has branded with a number of designers including Kate Spade, is collaborating with Swarovski on a jewelry line. She is my spirit animal. Not only do we share a penchant for oversized eyewear, she is wearing a camo jacket trimmed in fake fur. I’d cobbled together a reasonable facsimile and was planning to wear it but felt it might have been too fromage. Good thing. That would have been way too Bobbsey Twins.

 

This is my camo jacket, trimmed with marabou feathers. I was inspired by a Miu Miu jacket. My jacket was from a CAFCAD (Canadian Alliance of Film & Television Costume Arts & Design) costume sale and I bought the feather trim at a shop on Queen and Spadina for $20. My tailor sewed it on and the whole thing cost me about $50 as opposed to the thousands Mrs. Prada was charging.

An awesome camo jacket from the label Obey I spotted on the subway last night. He was cool with my shooting his photo but I noticed he took the jacket off immediately thereafter. He must have figured I was this weirdo riding the subway late at night snapping young dudes.

An Iris Apfel resin cuff studded with Swarovski crystals. It is amazing and mouth-watering but I couldn’t get it over my hand, which is just as well because I couldn’t afford the $2,000 tariff anyway.

Me and Rob doing the obligatory selfie at the Extraordinary Italian Taste party at Cibo in Yorkville Thursday evening. Hey – spectacular Italian food and drink for free. We are so there.

Mid-way through the buffet at Cibo, with a centerpiece of pasta, which looks not out of place in a hair salon. The cheese was so scrumptious --  I am such a fool for pecorino – that I am still carrying around the calories.

Rob toasting the evening with an ensemble colour-coded with the red wine.

Cibo owner Nick Di Donato, left, gracious and generous host of the evening, with the Consul General of Italy.

A mannequin in the window of Dolce & Gabbana on Bloor St. that looks just like Paul Shaffer. Love the D&G windows and their clothes don’t suck either.