2013 Here We Come

Happy New Year, one and all.

This is what my window looked like during the holidays:
* A magnificent and rare printed silk jacket from Liberty of London - $200.
* Beautiful Boss sparkly casual sports jacket - $85.
* Ray Ban sunglasses, Prada Sunglasses, Boss sunglasses - $85.
* A frosty little tree with white lights and balls, with an angel standing by - priceless.

Boxing Sale News

Come and check out the great sale at RM - all suits and jackets, shoes and shirts, leather jackets and pants are 50% off.
It won't last forever.

The Life and Death Of Anna K.

What about this story keeps us tuned, after so many years? Did you know that there are at least 8 versions of the story on film? OK, so some are in Russian and are not counted in North America, but still.
I saw the new one recently. Of course I did. How can I resist time travel that takes me to the best dressed list of Russian society more than 100 years ago? And they were certainly dressed to the nines. The jewellery was quite good too. And the decor. Lovely.
But that's not why we are there. We are there to witness the ultimate woman destroy herself for love. She does it with passion and dedication most of us lack. Who among us would throw ourselves under a steaming train because of raging jealousy? Our destructive compulsions drive most love stricken hearts to open the fridge door and drown their sorrows in something edible. Is it possible people are not compelled to follow suit because the trains are so unromantic now, electric beasts they are today?
Or is it because women ( in the developed world) have more options now and don't have to die once they follow their hearts?
We watch because most of us don't let ourselves go that distance. We watch the kind of love we all wish we could experience once in our life, versus the one most of us have. The rational, composed, regimented life contrasted with the irrational, inevitable passionate choice of Mrs. K. We know she suffered, but we know she would do it all again. And we love her for it.

Dr. Who?

Sometimes, many times in fact, I admit I'm slow to catch on to things others have been on to for years, even decades. Such is the case with The Doctor.
My kids, bless their hearts, have turned me into a Doctor consumer, in all his regenerating glory.
I love his Tardis, his incomprehensible quasi-scientific mumblings, his running all over the universe with his sonic screwdriver (I have a thing about screwdrivers too!!) and how the aliens always have something human in them just to make us pay attention. It's sweet in the most hokey way possible.

Can We Do This In Life? The Picasso Bull

Pablo Picasso created 'Bull' during 1945-6. 'Bull' is a suite of lithographs that have become a master class in ways to develop an artwork from the academic to the abstract. In this series, Picasso strips the image of a bull to the essential lines of its form. Each plate brings him closer to finding the essential 'spirit' of the beast.

It starts with a lively drawing of the bull in lithographic ink. It lays the foundations for the developments to come. Picasso used the bull as a metaphor throughout his artwork but he refused to be pinned down as to its meaning. It has been interpreted in various ways: a representation of the Spanish people; a comment on fascism and brutality; a symbol of virility; and finally a reflection of Picasso's self image.

(I obsess: Why don't they admire Picasso in India, why choose Hitler? Can someone please explain it to me so I can understand?)

And now back to my question: Can life ever go back to the basics without a disaster forcing it upon the human race? Probably not.
I guess that is the reason we have art.

And Now, Think Positive

For there is no other way to combat evil.

Positives in time of darkness (in a wintery sense, not doomsday):

* Cooking simple meals with my boys on cold winter evenings and watching Dr. Who episodes one after another until we fall asleep.

* Planning and attending gatherings with friends, celebrating holidays, birthdays, and life in general.

* Today - leaving the house preparing for a cold day, and finding myself bathing is bright sunlight and mild air. Fantastic.

What Are They Thinking When They Hear the Name "Hitler"

The world is an astounding place.
There is so much to marvel at, to admire, to discover. There is beauty, and wealth of ideas, there is good, and there is, apparently even for a secular person like myself - Evil.
I heard something astonishing last week on CBC radio 1, The Current, a short interview with a lovely sounding Indian teacher which made my jaw drop, and even the radio interviewer, a woman of words in general, was rendered speechless.
The teacher was telling that her students are admirers of Hitler. As a leader, a crusader for Germany, an orator, a truly inspiring persona. I looked it up. Indeed, it is a wildly popular idea all over India.
To think that millions of those idiots, as there is no other word for it, are walking the earth admiring scum of humanity, teaching his ideas to their impressionable youth and propagating their minds with his filth, is simply evil.
But don't just take my word for it.
Read it here, and here. And watch this video of the man who sells the books:

The Sophisticated Party Crowd at the AGO

This museum is cashing in on the under-entertained people of Toronto, and it looks like they are on the right track.
There was a party there last night, amidst the various galleries, winding stairwells, art works and life-drawing opportunities with nude models on different floors, live music in the main hall, and many young and beautiful people eyeing each other and assessing their possibilities for an evening of culture and maybe sex. Yes, the level of sexual frustration in the gathering crowd was screaming at you even louder than the music, which was so loud the bartenders had earplugs securely installed.
However, despite the perfect surrounding, the people felt a bit paralyzed, to me. No one danced, even though there was enough booze, and they all looked all and all conservative and a bit intimidated by something.

Art consumers and artists are not quite the same material, when it comes to parties, it seems. I would have expected things to get a bit more heated. Instead, when the music ended, everyone dispersed. Hmmm. Why didn't we burst into dancing?

It was a good opportunity to explore new territory I have not been to before, on the top and bottom levels of the building. Climbing the beautiful wooden staircase was a considerable aerobic effort but it was worth it. Like climbing a temple of art.

There were interesting modern art pieces up there and we were happy to discover them. One favourite was a replica of a NYC bathroom made entirely, and very accurately of sewn material - brilliant. The picture doesn't do it justice.

Then there was the disturbing exhibition of the three dimensional portraits of people made of silicone, so life like yet distorted in grotesque ways I couldn't bare looking at for long:

And here is my beautiful friend sketching some lines in the live drawing hall:

All in all, a good place to spend Thursday night.

Joseph Sudek Revisited

My favourite, hands down, is this one: a rainy scene of a street in Prague. Everything is in there - the street lamps, the buildings, the umbrellas, the shadows. It swallows you in. You think Kafka is just around the corner, walking there weaving his paranoid tales:

Meanwhile, at RM, Fall with Style.

New arrivals of shoes, tweeds, wool coats and other treasures are filling the gaps (there are no gaps) on my racks.
There's a beautiful black leather Roots bag, brand new. Compact and perfect in every way.
There are some suits to die for named Prada, Zegna, Paul Smith and Canali.
And as always, there's me, giving you the sound advise you want when shopping. Come and get it.

Oh My, Dear Life!

Alice Munro, dear Alice. Thank you. Please write me another one.
I just finished the last pages of her latest book. I took my time with this book, only allowed myself one story at a time, every few days so I can stretch the pleasure further.
Every story in this collection is a heartbreaker. Even her short childhood recollections, despite having been written in a clear prose devoid of sentimentality, have an impact of such magnitude that I ended up closing the back cover with wet eyes, panting for air. Who cries when reading a book anymore? Well, turns out I do.
In these lines she manages to compose her music of words so concisely, light in style but heavy with content, dense with life meanings, and never simple. She makes me want to write her a letter. Maybe I will.

New Arrivals

Those of you who are thinking ahead, planning what to wear to a special holiday event for example, must come by and check out the fantastic additions to my racks. Some exquisite jackets by the great master Armani, and some of his competitors. These garments would make any man look and feel sophisticated, well packed, and cosy. Most of them are in size 40R, but not all. Please come.

Feasting on Culture

I'm lucky to have gracious friends with membership at the AGO. Today they took me for my birthday to see the Frieda Kahlo and Diego Rivera show - a comprehensive study of their life of love and art.
Like many artistic couples, they fed on heart break, drama and lust. And Frieda looked so good in her suffering.
I must admit that what struck me more than their paintings, which have become iconic in recent decades, are the photographs chronicling their life, and the less known works.
I love this nude of her that he did early in their relationship:

And this portrait of her, the stillness and grace in it are perfect:

Stormy Weather

Many striking images emerge from the devastated northeastern seaboard. This one of a light house on lake Erie talks to me in particular because the force of the water is so clearly present, both enchanting and horrifying in its beauty, it's like a work of art.

My favourite picture of my father, in his element, at sea, but with a personal intimate twist - a stowaway bird resting on his shoulder:

And the kind of weather and environmnet I had while away, what contrast to ours:

More Shoes

I have a fascination with shoes. Always have, always will.
Luckily, some of the customers are similar. They bring shoes to consign, and they buy shoes from me, and the exchange is simply marvellous.
So we have some good ones, newly arrived, and those who share this fetish and need a fix, come by and see if you can get lucky.

Upon my Return

I will be accepting new items for fall and winter.
I'm going to see my family for a couple of weeks, so the shop is going to be closed. I'm going to witness my father being buried.
When he died of a terrible cancer 2 years ago he donated his body to scientific research, and that's where he's been for the last 2 years. Now that his body is returned to us, something has to be done. Even though we said our goodbyes at the time, we have to gather and see him go into the ground. It must be done.

I miss my father. He was a very present father, even from a distance. I think about him quite a bit. This is something I wrote and read in his memorial service at the time of his death:

I had a father
like no other
he smiled when he was happy
he cried when he was sad
he loved, he never hated
and now he's dead.

when I was young
he took me on many a ride
he sailed and traveled
to lands so far and wide
he never liked to sit around
he moved about the world
and then he got a little old.

he lived his life with passion
he loved his kids, he cared
he was there with every step we made
and even if he was a little pushy,
he helped us when we failed.

we're happy now that he no longer suffers
he wanted to be gone
but loved his wife, our mother, so
he held on to life, and on and on.
In time we'll grow to miss
his hands, so warm, his hugs, his kiss.

and each and every time we do
we will remember this:
he was our father
he gave us life
he loved us
and we will call each other then to say:
today aba is right here
in me, in you
and in this lovely air.

Tabu

A curious but compelling film:
Shot in black and white, almost completely silent but with good music, with a time frame which spans over a century and reveals the secrets and emotional life of an old lonely woman in Lisbon.
The main romantic plot takes place in beautiful, sunny, sensual Africa. The other parts of the story which happen in Lisbon are bleak and cold as befitting the story - life in Lisbon is punishment to the great crime of passion in her past.
Why is passion always punished so severely in stories? What are we saying to the universe with these lessons? that passion is to be destroyed, or is it self destructive?
I don't know.

The Search for Luminosity - Joseph Sudek

Joseph Sudek at the AGO yesterday - a photographer searching for light in times of great darkness. He worked in Prague until his death in the early 70's, documenting lights and shadows in his beloved city and studio during decades of troubles and wars, and finding great beauty in the process.

This picture, after Caravaggio, reminded me of my of my own living room:

Nuit Blanche Finds, and Remembrance of Summers Past

This year, with the help of a midnight shot of brandy and a warm up in a bar mid way, we managed to stay out and explore longer.
The man in the photo bellow was the most interesting thing we saw - he was not on the program, a partizan musician playing ethereal sounds on a self made instrument: hollow piece of wood attached to an amplifier, with an assortment of attachments that made the music simply hypnotic. He did not have a name tag, I don't know who he was, which is a shame.

Trisha Brown Dance company preformed this continuous climb, a re-anactment of an old show from the 60's. It felt completely contemporary.

This last of the Morning Glories was a fine one:

And the last incarnation of the new year flowers, they lasted nice and long:

Positives

I haven't done this exercise for a while. I should do it more often, specially in difficult times. When I forget, I am bogged down by the stench emanating from the underbelly of our society and that feels pretty crappy.
Here are the positives for this week:

* Good day today at the shop - no A******ls trying to get something for nothing, rather some nice new customers and some of the regulars I like - appreciative, well spoken, kind. All in all the sort of people I want to come to shop.

* Some first rate items coming in and leaving as soon as I put them on a hanger, even before tagging. I like that.

* The pool at the Y is open again, I got a couple of great swims this week - a lane all to myself after a long read in the sauna. What a privilege.

* Sale items leaving the shop in a steady pace, off to live in people's wardrobes, clearing space for new things to come in. Still a way to go in that department.

* A good movie - Farewell My Queen: Set in Versailles during the last few days of the Queen's life before she lost her head and her kingdom, from a point of view of a mysterious young woman who adores her and lives in the palace, her Reader. Interesting take on an old theme. Well designed, well written, and well acted. And the clothes, to die for. Well, they did...

Day of Atonement

This is a serious day, in which we are supposed to suffer hardship of hunger and thirst, to remember the sins we have committed all year, and to ask for forgiveness.
I admit I have sinned. We all do, if we are alive. I sin with relish. I sin with dedication, and I sin with joy. Sin is the essence of life.
Granted, most of my sins are mild. I do not get up in the morning with the intent of harming the universe, but I'm sure I contribute in my own special way, like the rest of us.
Forgiveness is overrated. God himself never seems to grant it or believe in anything but punishment. And if it's a Goddess - well, don't all females know how to hold a grudge forever?
In light of this statement, it would be hypocritical of me to atone, and get up tomorrow morning and continue living in exactly the same way.

This is what I'm doing today:
I commit myself to a joyful life of sins, without regret or whimpering whining about forgiveness.

New Year's Flowers and Food

Colourful stuffed peppers, before and after:

Samba for the New Year

Vinicius De Moraes - a creative bad boy/poet with all the qualities we want from such a figure: eloquent, romantic, long dead but not forgotten.

Fabulous Finds at RM

A sample of the magnificent pieces on display this week:

A Burberry trench coat/raincoat in sand colour, size M:

Canali sports jacket in perfect blue.

Canali checked tweed in fall colours, over delicate striped Burberry shirt and a Holt Renfrew tie.
And a Next tweed sports jacket in size M, with an Etro raincoat draping over it. The pink tie is also Etro.

Neo-Renaissance Order

Renaissance Man, an oasis in the desert of malls, chain stores, and urban ugliness, a place of calm, culture and beauty, where fine clothes can be bought and ideas can be discussed, has been of late a target to the lowest of the low - shoplifters, thieves and robbers.
Some people can't leave something good alone, they must try and destroy it. Those who do it are surely the most miserable people among us. Let the universe bestow on their small insignificant souls as much misery as they spread around them wherever they go. I know it will. The universe knows who you are, and so do I.

But in the meantime, until the universe gets rid of you, here's what's going to happen:

From now on everyone coming in should know - you're on a video recorder everywhere around the shop, even though you can't see it be sure it's there, and a still photo of you will be taken for the record. Don't like the idea? don't come in. Don't even stand by the window.

We are starting a collection of identified offenders, and the downtown business association will share it with all business owners. Be warned, m***erf***ers.

My Good Old Bike

I'm pissed!!!! And sad.
Last night i went to visit a good friend in the cardiac ward at TGH. To compensate my boy for his patience while we took our time visiting, I took out him to dim sum on McCaul street (I do not recommend that place - the food was atrocious).
We locked our bikes together to a pole. By the time we came to get them, they were gone.
Today I came back to get another visit at the hospital, and while searching for a parking spot I saw a man with my bike. I stopped the car in the middle of the street and chased him, to no avail. He got away. But - I knew he came out of the homeless shelter across the street.
I went to talk to the management there. I found the stash of stolen bikes around the corner and there were my boy's bikes. I took them home.
But even after hours and hours of combing the nooks and crannies of the neighbourhood I couldn't find my own.
I loved them, my old scratched blue Marlins.
Tomorrow I shall look again. Maybe I'll get lucky.

You Can Sleep When You're Dead

In a coffee shop, in a village called Cambelford in Trent Hills, on a lovely summer morning, this gem was calling for me:

Carlton Cinema Delight

These guys play there whenever I happen to go. What a pleasant thing to find.

August Sale

Check out the clearance sale this month - 70% off selected suits and jackets, and they are good.

A Fine Summer Day

The long weekend is behind us. Sweet warm and short.(Thanks for the pictures, DW).

A New Sign

I made this sandwich board myself, from scratch. I like it. Now lets see if it is effective.

Summer Night's Laughs

Thank the universe for our love of dark humour. This one took me a few seconds:

"....and aside from that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you enjoy the show?"

A Lesson in How Not To Be A Man of Substance

This story is a sad one, for me. It might not be the best business-like approach to tell you, but I think people need to know how not to behave:
A consignor came in yesterday, after vanishing for 2 and a half years, to claim his share. I looked up his file, and recapped what I paid him then for the items I sold, and what was left at the shop for all these years and did not sell - I said I gave it away eventually since no one wanted to buy it even from the $5 bin.
He got angry.
Let me explain what these things were: an old red polyester pyjama (he thought it was silk) and an old red sweater.
The man said - you have to pay me for them. I guess these things were so dear to him he forgot them at my shop for close to 3 years.
I wanted him out of there. To cut it short I said - lets assume someone did buy them from the $5 bin, which they didn't - I'll pay you for that. He didn't like that either. I gave him $5. For donating his old pyjamas.
He took the money. Thanks for nothing, he said at the door.
Shame, I guess, is not in his repertoire.

White Cherries - Summer Treats

The most succulent, sweat and juicy cherries I've ever tasted. The little Chinese man at the grocery store around the corner was absolutely right about them - they are the best, he said, you'll love them.

Africa, Oh Africa

Today we went to Africa - or so it seemed in Woodbine Park.
Music, fragrant spicy foods, goods with colour and substance, and a magical mix of people. This is the beauty of Toronto - the world is here.

Bring Good Luck, Little Fellow

In the shop, on this hot afternoon, this butterfly came to rest for a short while:

Rockport Shoes Rock

OMG - readers with shoes size 12 who love good solid walking shoes need to come here asap - I just got a fantastic collection of perfect condition shoes of excellent brand names: Rockport, Ecco, Williams, and L.L. Bean.
I LOVE SHOES - everyone who knows me knows this to be true. Sadly my size is considerably smaller, so I leave them for my good customers to enjoy.
My favourite today:

Moonrises and Waltzes - Summer Movie Review

The amount of movies coming out regularly is staggering, but the good ones are so very rare. Why is that? we know money is no guarantee for quality, and neither is star power.
Anyway, whatever the formula, one thing is true - good writing is always at the root of them all.
Moonrise Kingdom is the best of the crop at the moment - a solid, funny, smart and effective story that keeps moving along at a summery pace, packed with little visual and literal surprises that warm our hearts and remind us of our own past dreams and unlived adventures, family craziness, and the simplicity of life in the summers of our youth, before technology invaded every aspect imaginable.

Then there is Take This Waltz - a Canadian production, filmed in Toronto's familiar downtown streets and neighbourhoods. It's like watching a Tourism Ontario promotional video, starring Michelle Williams, for 2 hours.
The visuals are stunning, both Toronto and Michelle never looked better than through the lens of Sarah Poly. Beautiful eyes, luminous skin, graceful body and lips to die for, and the lovely decrepitness of those Victorian houses we know so well, the beaches and markets - but all that beauty is not enough to save us from wondering why we are watching this predictable story. We are bogged with that familiar nagging question: "are we there yet?" every 5 minutes or so in the last 45 minutes. The soundtrack is also very Canadian and lovely, which helps but - we know from the title that Leonard Cohen's song is bound to resonate, and when at last his comforting voice comes on, when the credits start to roll, all we want it to be released.

On the Subject of Beauty

This little marvel of nature - Glaucus Atlanticus, a particularly small and poisonous sea snail, only 3 cm in length, knows how to dress to impress. Believe it or not, it's real.
I can't get enough of looking at this thing.