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.

MONTREAL MEANDERINGS

Because a woman can’t live on fashion and accessories alone, early last month I hustled off to Montreal for a couple of days with my cultural travelling companion event-planner extraordinaire (Party) Barbara Hershenhorn to take in the Robert Mapplethorpe exhibit at the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts. And yes, there was wining and dining and shopping involved. We may wear a lot of black but we aren’t nuns with a vow of abstinence. Abstinence is so overrated.

Me and Barbara at the funky Le Bremner resto in Old Montreal. It is so hot and anti-chic that it has no signage outside and is located in a fusty basement. The food is great but they don’t make any adjustments to the menu. No, I could not have the veg selection without chicken skin on top.

Special holiday packaging for Veuve Clicquot champagne, my fave bubbles, in a Montreal liquor store featuring Rome and Dallas, two cities associated with my brother-from-another-mother John “Junior” Maloney. Better pack a tote if you plan to shop for booze in Montreal. You have to buy a bag to lug your purchases.

This is not Jon Stewart on a random billboard in Montreal but sure looked like it to me.

Me at the Mapplethorpe exhibit doing my best Annie Leibovitz impersonation.

Me and super-sweet sales associate Marie Catherine Noël at the Denis Gagnon atelier on Rue Saint-Paul in Old Montreal. For moi, Gagnon is très formidable, the Rick Owens of Canada.

A prohibitively expensive but fantastic Japanese designer jacket at Cahier d Exercices on Rue Saint-Paul which is curated like Dover Street Market in New York, where I can’t afford to shop either. Old Montreal was dead, dead, dead the afternoon we shopped. We were the only people on the street -- it felt as spooky as an old episode of Twilight Zone. Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo.

This is not a Picasso outtake but another billboard on a Montreal street – you don’t have to go to a museum to see art.

The ceiling at the Ritz Carlton lobby bar where we went for a smart martini references the iconic Palm Court Lounge at the Plaza Hotel in New York.

The aforementioned smart martini at the Ritz Carlton.

This has nothing to do with Montreal but I loved this painting by Colin Stark in the entry of Optical Outlook on Yorkville Ave., where I get all my eye wear.