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.

COSTUME CAPERS

On Saturday, we made tracks to Pinewood Studios for the bi-annual CAFTCAD (Canadian Alliance of Film & Television Arts & Design) sale, where costumers and wardrobers for films and series shooting in the Toronto area get to shed some of the extraneous inventory they have amassed on the job. (There is also vintage, stuff from retailers, stylists and industry rental houses.)

Bargoons are to be had, but the real thrill is poking through the goodies. Where else would you find everything from leather chaps to Japanese robes to fake-blood-stained clothing from The Strain?

Rob and I scored big-time (his fave item is a brand-new Danier leather jacket for one-third of retail; mine is a vintage brocade jacket that is very Lee Radziwill meets Jaqueline Susann) and we ran into a lot of buddies, except for legendary costume designer Juul Haalmeyer, of SCTV fame, who is usually a fixture at the event acting as unofficial greeter.

We missed you, “Costume Juul.”

The signage for the sale, which included black-and-white balloons. It is essential because Commissioner St. is not exactly a major retail go-to.

Bumped into the irrepressible Sheila McCarthy, who found these awesome vintage purses, one of which will be a gift for a friend. 

Ian Drummond’s stall is inevitably our first destination. I pounced on this Union Jack T-shit, which goes with Rob’s tank, purchased in South Beach. Britannia rules!!!

The reincarnation of Groucho Marx , hamming it up with a vendor, is actually  Jonathan Hagey, owner of Kingpin’s Hideaway, destination for “gentlemenswear with balls.” It’s on his business card. I didn’t make it up. Hagey would be officiating at a wedding that night in his Groucho garb.

Super stylist/writer Loretta Chin was there as a civilian; she wasn’t doing much shopping. She’s been a vendor herself many times so it’s not like she needs any more stuff – but then again, neither do we.

I was obsessed with this hombre’s blue ombré hair when I kept running into him. Then I noticed his über cool leather ensemble. Turns out he is a designer at Raw Finery Studio, a fashion lab and studio for young and hungry up-and-comers. Then again, struggling Canadian designers are always hungry. They make even less money than struggling Canadian actors.