MURPHY'S FLAW

 

BROWN KNOWSING

 Howdy pardners. 

I have taken a sabbatical from the blog because it has been a shit show of a summer. My cat died, my mother died, my plumber died and my bank manager died.  I endured identity theft, pneumonia, tree falling on garage, tree limbs falling on hydro lines, hole in roof resulting in flooding and electrical damage, new roof, new garage, returned cheques due to aforementioned identity theft, broken tooth ($1,200 ka-ching)  – and those are just the highlights. 

I am sure I have missed some. Still waiting for the locusts.

But I am still standing. Barely.

I have retreated into reading books and binge- watching TV. Thank God for The Durrells in Corfu. Can’t wait for the return of Magnificent Mrs. Maisel.

Which brings me to my rant, which compelled me back to blog.

I have been catching the new iteration of Murphy Brown and I have some Brownie points to make. It is getting better. Less self-conscious for one. It was as eager to please as a non-housebroken puppy and the scent of flop sweat was palpable.

But here’s a helpful household hint. Candice Bergen needs to fire her stylist. Bergen is an attractive woman with a post-menopausal body. Hello, we’ve been there.

For some insane reason they’re insisting on pouring her into unfortunate blazers that bunch in the back, pull tight on the arms and make no attempt to go for closure. She looks like she is wearing sausage casing. 

Seriously -- she is the fucking star of the show, people! And you don’t put a woman with a tummy bulge into a pair of pants that strain at the seams and hint at camel toe.

In last week’s episode, the news-show gang went to a fancy-shmantzy black-tie event honouring Jim Dial (Charles Kimbrough) and poor Murph was tricked out in a tight white tuxedo shirt combo with a cummerbund thingy and enormous black skirt that made her look like a pregnant penguin wearing a bustle. The shirt collar was cool and the brooch terrific but the silhouette was all wrong. She should have worn an oversized white tunic over a pair of slim but not skinny legged tuxedo pants.

Inexplicably they managed to dress tertiary character Phyllis, played by Tyne Daly who is even curvier than Bergen, in a flattering dress. WTF?

And while we are at it, what’s up with the wigs on Lauren Lee Smith, star of Frankie Drake Mysteries, this season? Egads. The Halloween wigs at Value Village are more credible. Surely Smith can’t be having bad hair days in perpetuity.

At least they have ditched the motorcycle gambit. Did we really believe Frankie actually rode a bike? Last season all she did was walk one. Were they trying to butch her up or something? Going for the dyke on a bike look?

Just sayin’.

TIFF, TFW & T.O.

 

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.

SECOND COAT

I haven’t really been slacking off. I was felled by the plague for most of the holiday season and have only recently emerged having coughed up a lung or two. That said, a girl needs to dip her toes into the retail pool even if she just does the dog paddle. A real score can put a rosy glow back on the old cheekbones and it doesn’t screw up the system as much as antibiotics. Because I had a 30 per cent off coupon for Value Village that expired on Dec. 31^st, I simply had to head out to the Logan location on New Year’s Eve before the bubbly was uncorked.

I always prowl through the sleepwear department in search of Chinese robes that are oh so boho when paired with jeans.  I found this amazing royal blue satin robe that cost $11.99 before the 30 per cent discount. It was in perfect condition and felt regal. If nothing else, I could wear it while binge watching The Crown.

When I went to cut off the price tag, I noticed a fancy-schmancy golden thingie that is routinely sewn to the neck of high-end merch for the purpose of intimidation. I couldn’t make out the name so I got out the trusty old magnifying glass and it turned out to be Adam Lippes. Hmmmm, sounded familiar. I Googled and discovered he is a U.S. designer who worked with the late Oscar de la Renta and has his own hot line.  My robe is actually an opera coat that retails for $2,750. Ka-ching!!!!

One of my fave designer resale/vintage shops is Thrill of the Find at Queen St. just east of Jones Ave. Owner Mireille Watson has such a great eye and Gallic sense of humour. I gravitated to this cheeky checked coat by the Canadian label Kk Bre Couture, based in Oakville. I loved the outsized yellow buttons. They made me smile. And it was a bargoon at $70! Not as much of a bargoon as the Adam Lippes opera coat but what is?

Watson is very low key but she does have quite the celeb following, especially since she posts on 1stdibs website. It attracted Gloria Vanderbilt, who arrived unexpectedly one day accompanied by a pair of strapping young men, none of whom was her son Anderson Cooper. 

Another score at V.V. This is a bouclé jacket with a matching fur collar that screamed out to me because of the fuchsia colour. I love me a good fuschsia. The label was Alessandra Boni Italy so it was a no brainer. It had me at “Italy.” The price was right: $19.95 less 30 per cent discount.

I Googled the label but it was all in Italian and even when translated the site is way too difficult to manoeuvre so Ms Boni remains a mystery. I can live with that.

NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM

The best bargoon in the Mink Mile has to be happy hour at Museum Tavern on Bloor St. opposite the ROM, where between 4 and 6 p.m. daily you can scarf down oysters for a buck a shuck washed down by $6 wine. Hey for $20 for a dozen and a drink, you can’t go wrong.

The slurp-able oysters and red wine at Museum Tavern, offspring of the late lamented Bistro 990 and owned and operated by the sons of Bistro owner Tom Kristenbrun.

Designer Nicole Manek, (left) formerly of the vintage store Life of Manek and currently selling online, me and her pal at Museum Tavern. I am showing off a stunning mink backpack she made from dead stock at her boutique.

Me and world-travelling pal Claire Blondeau (a.k.a. Salty Sea Wench) mugging at the Museum. I am sporting my trademark lipstick-print-on-napkin which could be useful in masking a bad facelift. Maybe I should copyright it.