Another Fashion Week, perhaps my last. It's like breaking up with someone, but still going to Christmas dinner with their family. Awkward, sad and painful. Although, in this case there are lots of fashionistas and gay guys with pompadours. This season I went with Dru and Julie, who I ended up calling Drulie by the end of the night. We saw the slouchy clothes, got our free swag which included a box of Special K (?) and feasted our eyes on the best people parade in the city. Really, the runway should just be filled with all the characters that attend - fabulous people watching.
Afterwards, we went for dinner and forgetting that we're no longer in Hamilton, weren't able to get a table on the chi-chi Ossington. We ended up on Harbord and as we stepped out of Dru's minivan this guy yells across the street: "Sweet ride, ladies!" Harumph. But hilarious.
Afterwards, we went for dinner and forgetting that we're no longer in Hamilton, weren't able to get a table on the chi-chi Ossington. We ended up on Harbord and as we stepped out of Dru's minivan this guy yells across the street: "Sweet ride, ladies!" Harumph. But hilarious. 
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