CONSTANTINE COMPANIONS

Neither rain nor snow nor slush kept us from the 10^th anniversary party for the Canadian fashion label Greta Constantine, which shows in both Toronto and Paris, that’s how cool they are.

It was held at the regal Casa Loma, as befitting the stylish event’s “Royal Affair” theme, for which we were commanded to “dress royally.” Alas, our tiara was at the cleaners so we went bare headed.

Greta Constantine’s dashing duo Kirk Pickersgill (left) and Stephen Wong mug for the cameras with their muse, supermodel Coco Rocha.

Me, Rob Salem and stylist Wendy Natale arrive fashionably late on the red carpet after quaffing bubbles at Wendy’s chic flat.

A rear view of my Deco inspired shawl purchased in California – once a hippie, always a hippie.

Two of the impossibly tall and gorgeous models at the event dressed to thrill in Greta Constantine.

Three more leggy models who made us poor civilians feel like garden gnomes.

Nicholas Mellamphy, creative director/vice president of The Room at Hudson’s Bay, gives us the shoulder in his killer jacket.

Here I am taking my best Warhol study-in-blue selfie.

Pickersgill and Wong transformed the Casa Loma party space into a reproduction of their downtown Toronto studio complete with bolts of fabric, patterns and mannequins.

An up close and personal view of the detailing of the back of one of their fabulous frocks.

Fashion royalty: Her majesty Marlene Schiff (in full crowning glory) and the Beckerman Sisters give good face at Casa Loma.

MAG A SCENE

Ever eager to encourage the preservation of print, I dutifully made my way to the Ritz Carlton Hotel on Wednesday for a fashionable cocktailer in celebration of the winter 2016 edition of S/Magazine which promised “interactive art, live music and en pointe ballerinas.”

They had me at open bar. Two words that strike fear into the heart of every working journalist are “cash bar.”

The fashionistas were in full force. In fact, I entered the party on the designer heels of Suzanne Rogers, a “contributor” to the magazine. As far as I could see, her contribution to the issue was a treatise on how she would be spending her winter holidays (actually a “haute holiday”) in a “picturesque private gated community Lyford Cay.” It’s in the Bahamas, sweetie darlings, but you knew that.

Rogers had a minder in tow -- more like a purse minder -- who was charged with holding her bag. He was perfectly colour-coordinated in a jacket matching her clutch. I wonder if he gets a clothing allowance. And do they go shopping together? Now that’s a column I want to read.

On the subway en route to the Ritz, I encountered this animal-rights activist who reminded me of the freedom fighter in V for Vendetta with a moustache wax.

The imitable Anita Clarke, bloggers, fashion writer and editor, in her way cool vest which conjures up a platinum Wookie.

 I toast the magazine with Leesa Butler, marketer, event planner, blogger and fellow champagne drinker. Hell, I toast anything. I am a champagne slut.

The fringe element in full force. Dolly Parton called. She wants her skirt back.

Models and dancers holding up the back wall. Either that or learning the semaphore.

Here I am making peace with actor turned artist Bridget Griggs and her son Zak, doing his best photo bomb.

What every girl needs is a hands-on wall of jewelry like this.

Adorable couple alert. Not only are they the cutest in the room, they are also color-coordinated.

The party gal with the on-trend vest in the left has no problem having her photo taken. Her friend not so much. But you gotta applaud her reflexes.

It’s not a fashion party without Kirk Pickersgill and Stephen Wong, the über talented designers behind the label Greta Constantine and two of the most generous guys in the biz.

Is she not tutu divine? People just couldn’t stop taking her photo because she looked like a fairy princess, a scaled-down version of the voluminous gown Sarah Jessica Parker wore while waiting for Mikhail Baryshnikov’s character Aleksandr Petrovsky on a Sex and the City episode. She told us she had a date after, and had called ahead to warn him she'd be over-dressed.

I was obsessed with this back-split jacket and how the woman wearing it totally rocked it. Turns out it is a Chanel. I am not worthy.