My host Sarah wasn't picking up her phone so near the light of dawn, but by some dumb luck, Tommy (local party promoter and touch-typist extraordinaire) texted me at 7am to join him for a bottle of vodka and some Strawberry Shortcake gelato at a private residence in King Street. Nine hours, three bottles, twenty viral video clips, one "quick meeting - back in ten" and two thwarted passes later, I awoke next to an equally fully-dressed and unconscious Tommy on the floor of his walk-in closet. I grabbed my bags and left for Kensington.
By 4pm, I was back at Saraha's, and by 5pm, dressed and ready for the GSUS Industries show at Toronto Fashion Week. Normally I would skulk around the jet-set-trend-set (probably with Scott in tow, chasing down Pamela Anderson or one of The Moffatts) but with Emanuel walking in the show within the hour, I skipped the line and hobnobbed with the fashion elite of Canada: Jeanne Beker, Rebecca Hardy (winner of Canada's Next Top Model), Blake McGrath (winner of So You Think You Can Dance), Fefe Dobson, and the cast of Degrassi. Grade A Canadian beef...
Emanuel took me on the sweetest date after his show, all lips, cheekbones and tribal face paint - a dinner of alfredo pasta at Richtree's in the Eaton's Centre and a cab fare back to Sarah's to read the Internet. Can't imagine anything better than creeping old men watching young boys webcam from their kitchens whilst smoking strawberry Prime Times with a male model that I just met.
Carte Blanche at Tattoo called to us and a crowd of table-service over-30s for a late-night fashion show of heinous Herve Leger-inspired disco garments modeled by the fiercest brunette Whitney Wiebes that have ever graced revolving pedestals lit by high school drama club lighting directors. Nothing justified staying longer than a quick chat with some ambitious models and abandoning Saraha for Pizza Pizza and a six hour spree of Miley Cyrus video clips and breaded chicken bites in bed.
