If you’ve been following my tweets, you’d know full well that Chicago failed to really impress me – at least, not in the way my friends and advisors had advised. The hype building up to the trip can only be described as colossal-meets-totally-unjustified. I mean, here was a city that was allegedly, supposed to not only knock my socks off but make me wanna stay forever. Abandon Toronto for Chicago? Never in a million years. I can go on and on about all the things I didn’t like (that the entire city is geared towards that American-pig tourist who likes to supersize his meal and take home souvenires of cultural-maybe-stuff because he’s supposed to. Oh, and what the fuck is Millenium park? Cloud Gate and Crown Fountain are 100% overrated. Check the Vatican, thanks).
We had some great meals and some awful indigestion. We didn’t meet one Chicagoan who would rather eat deep dish pizza than die of starvation. Figures, because it’s shit. It’s like stale polenta with acid poison pretending to be tomato sauce and chewing gum pretending to be cheese piled on top. Instead, Barcito, Big Star, Tavernita, RMP Italian, and Japonais are places you should eat. Also, rob a bank before you go in case you planned on being able to afford a drink, anywhere. Don’t go to the John Hancock building unless you want to re-experience the 80s. Service was a joke. Our waitress was on another planet and the wine was urine. The artisan cheese platter, surely catered by American airlines, was essentially a lunchable, unwrapped and tossed on a plate.
Wicker park was very nice but I’d rather be on Ossington. The architecture was breathtaking. The $100 view from the Trump was probably worth it. Skyscrapers were the only thing that made me feel privileged to experience Chicago. The rest of the time was spent feeling extremely privileged to live in Toronto. And our hotel, The James, was a safe haven in more ways than I can express here.
I’m not even going to speak about the shopping. Michigan Ave? A joke. Wicker park area was better with some great vintage finds and an Alexis Bittar boutique that had me falling in love with this eagle-eyed bangle. Gorgeous, but didn’t fit me! I got a Links of London friendship bracelet, instead.