It was a distinct feeling of being in this city – Toronto. In fact, it couldn’t be more Toronto. Saturday afternoon, wind chill factor in the unmentionable digits, the non-bustle of Yorkville in the winter, everyone scurrying indoors.
I, too, ran for cover and café crème at Le Pain Quotidien after a successful pre-Spring haircut. (On the subject of successful hair-do-wells, Daniel Fung is not quite Michael Barnett, but if the latter is still jet-setting in London-town, what’s a girl to do?)
They say it happens when you least expect it. I settled in with a tartine, dreaming of the LPQ in Paris and there it was – international style all over our very own Toronto streets.
My first sighting was the tall gentleman crossing the street, with a determined walk. Clad in full-on black, leather bomber (brave soul) and elongated boots with an over-exaggerated, upturned toe.
Was there an Indian maharajah in his lineage? That man’s wardrobe comes with a soundtrack – a good one.
Just as I waxed nostalgic for the King’s Road, the aesthetic shifted. A 50-something couple sat at the table across from me. The woman had impeccable Japanese style. Read More…