High society do. Hello, my name is Eurotrash and I’m here to tell you about what I feel has voraciously become my new favourite pastime: Brunch. A perfect series of events happened to me on the way to the bus stop. Saturday night’s idleness lead me to become completely enthralled with The Devil Wears Prada on The W Network – even though I had already seen the film and have a special sort of contempt for Anne Hathaway.
Curiosity ate away at me that night as I watched my boyfriend eat away a cheese panzarotto from Commisso’s at 2am. Waking up extra early (yeah right, Daylight savings only gave me an extra hour to snooze) I felt the only thing I could do was begin reading FRONT ROW: Anna Wintour biography by Jerry Oppenheimer. My reading of the text is probably going to shock all of you once I finish the book and post my review. I’d stick around for that – if I were you.
This book just gets me thinking about the way women comport themselves. It’s exceptional. And although Jerry is not a woman, he arouses the most peculiar thoughts in me about specifically being one. Anna Wintour may be singular in her career title – but one thing is becoming quite apparent to me as I turn the pages: there’s a little bit of Anna Wintour in every woman.
Book in hand I made my way down to Charles Khabouth’s French bistro on Bloor, La Société, to meet with two (well it was SUPPOSED to be three but someone slept in…) friends who happen to be two of the coolest fashionisto’s I know. Marcus Kan of Ukamaku.com, A la mode and Swide magazine; and Julio Reyes-Cocka, EIC of the famous fashion blog Fashion Nights. To me, though, they are among the few who are down-to-earth, make me die of laughter, genuine friends I’ve made in the industry. Goes to show you that fashion isn’t always a bitch-infested hoedown.
La Société is about as swank as you can get on a Sunday morning. Guccis, Chanels, Pradas are flung left and right as waiters with French accents make small talk avec toi. We couldn’t decide between the waffles, the crepes or the french toast. So, I asked twitter. A delightful sugar-stack of French Toast, a side of smoked salmon and freshly squeezed O.J. was technology at its finest moment. I forwent the Mimosas and oysters pulsating out at me from the menu for a healthier (maybe?) choice, because I know once champagne and raw shellfish hits my palette no one is safe. No one.
Delectable, delicious, dainty – doing it again. A stroll around Bloor later with a Vanilla latte in hand really took me back to my years at UofT where I admittedly spent more time hanging around Bloor St. boutiques, deciding where my next gourmet coffee and brioche would come from, than attending lecture. Oh, a special version of Anna Wintour lives inside me I’m certain – it took brunch, a book and Bloor St for me to find out.