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wMy Adventures in ... |
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This blog started when I came to Ukraine to do an internship in September 2002. It is a collection of notes on the time I spend in Ukraine. Now, after I have left Kyiv, I am writing stories of my other adventures.
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wMonday, October 27, 2003 |
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October 27, 2003
I haven’t been writing since the blackout, but then it is the only exciting event that happened in Toronto since I came back. I really haven’t been doing anything deserving to qualify as an adventure. My life generally consists of work, cooking, grocery shopping, laundry, gym, dining out (when I don’t feel like cooking, which is pretty often), and occasional movies. So, this is a story of my post blackout no-adventures.
On occasional movies
For the period of past 2 months I can recall four movies. I might have watched more, but they must have been so mediocre that they did not left any imprint in my memory. Of those four that did, the first prize goes to “The Whale Rider” – brilliant and moving coming of age story set in beautiful New Zealand coast.
The second movie worth mentioning is a Montreal story “Mambo Italiano”. It is a movie that is very in tune with two important themes in Ontario – acceptance of gay relationships and intergenerational conflict within immigrant families. Plus, it is a light comedy often compared with “My Fat Greek Wedding”.
The last two spaces are jointly shared by “Underworld” and “The Order”. The Underworld is a war between vampires and werewolves movie. The Order is a story of good and evil within church setting. Both movies are visually dark and low budget. They both are not the best movies but good beginnings for TV serials, and that is definitely what they were made for.
Toronto Fashion Week
I should have watched less of Fashion Television. Many things were compared with the sausage factory at one time or another (including government and the UN). The basic concept of this comparison is that if you have ever been inside the sausage factory and saw how the sausages are made you would never eat one for the rest of your life. Well, now I can add the fashion shows to the list of sausage factory comparisons. If you ever been on one fashion show you might feel serious reservations to going to see another one ever again.
I have been on a few fashion shows before and I had very positive memories about every one of those trips. When I was in my early teens, my mom tried (unsuccessfully) to develop some fashion sense in me. One of her methods was taking me to the fashion atelier in Kaliningrad to see the soviet-styled semi-official fashion shows. I don’t think those shows brought any fashion sense in me, but I have really warm and happy memories of those events. It was something of a mother-daughter activity.
Much later, after I moved to Canada, I got to see another fashion show. In our early stages of dating we went for an Ecological Fashion Show. As I was mostly preoccupied with my company, I have only vague recollections of dresses made from rubber tires and milk cartons.
With Toronto Fashion Week advertised as an event of the year, I decided that we’ve got to go to see at least the Closing Night Gala. Plus, I really felt it is my last chance show off my new outfit from India before winter. Afraid to be late I dragged my husband at precisely the time mentioned on our 25-dollar tickets. Indeed we were just in time to see previous free for all show of accessories. I can understand why it was free: the girls from local ballet school dribbled on the podium ‘wearing’ cell phones and glasses.
To my fury, we spend next two and a half hours standing outside the front door to the show room (at least it was inside the building) waiting till the room will be set up for ‘our’ paid show. All this time groups of people were allowed to get in under the pretext of being the press, the sponsors, the boyfriends and girlfriends of the press and sponsors, the mother and grandmothers of the press and sponsors, the aunts and uncles of the favourite hamster of the grandmothers of the press and sponsors; the list continues … And all those poor idiots like me who actually bought their tickets spent hours waiting when they will be allowed to get in. Of course by the time we were allowed to enter, the room was swamped with better-connected people. We found unoccupied seat of some sponsors and pretended to be them. Fortunately, no one tried to evict me from there. I think it was very clearly written on my face that whoever tries to do that will get additional show with many censored expressions performed by me.
Anyhow with only three-hour delay the show began. I had never heard of that ‘famous’ Catherine Brule or as ‘famous’ singer Glenn Lewis. The dresses shown might (with a huge doubt attached) have looked better if they were made from a quality material. Unfortunately, they were made from the lousiest material imaginable. The quality of the work matched the quality of the material. I could only watch the screen over the runway showing the walking models with disbelief: how such junk can look so good on the TV screen?
Two additions brightened up the show: the plastic performances by the male and female gymnastics artists. I have to say if we wanted to see those performances we could have gone to one of the strip clubs along Yonge Street in downtown Toronto. Still, compare to the rest of the show it was an improvement.
After waiting for the show for nearly three hours, it did not last nearly enough to appease my foul mood. I am never ever going for the Toronto Fashion Week even if they pay me.
posted by
Lidia at 11:27 AM
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