First stop from Union Station was King Street, southern border of Toronto's world-renowned (though not as renowned as the Grainger Market) Fashion District. What a splendid street: tattoo parlours, trendy bars, contemporary restaurants offering a different world beer for every dish. But clothes shops? Not a sausage, unless you want to pay $200 for a confusingly subversive t-shirt. I did, however, have cause to pause, seeing that FYEO has gone trans-Atlantic:
Amusing though it was, the hunt for a jacket had to continue (besides, FYEO looked closed; a few rasps on the door confirmed that this was indeed the case). I made my way towards the Fashion District's northern barrier - Queen Street - and headed centrewise. Still with me? It's exciting, I know. Anyways, I stopped in at some no-name shop only to find it was a thrift store (a trendy thrift store, where ironically moth-eaten jumpers commanded $30 price tags). I u-turned, crossing the street to Jeans West, which sounded as likely place as any to get a winter coat.
Ten minutes later my mission was accomplished; I don't mess about. The kindly Italian (or otherwise vaguely European-sounding) manager had bent my ear with his expert sales patter, and had me purchase the best of three nice coats he had practically forced me to try on. The winner: a smart, dark blue Jack & Jones parka, complete with furry hood and orange inner-lining. Granted, it's not the type of down-filled duvet I had been recommended to buy, but I've smiled so convincingly when showing off my parka that nobody has yet dared criticise my choice.
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| Fookin' mad fer it! |
My shopping efficiency took a turn for the worse thereafter, my remaining three hours downtown producing only a pair of hair clippers ($22), a bottle of Sunny D ($1.99) and a bagel for lunch ($6.19!). A deeks around the LCBO for Glen Breton - Canada's only single malt whisky - was successful, but its $88 price put the brakes on. Still, it wasn't a complete waste of time: I took two additional photographs and spotted a decent (chain) restaurant for tonight's dinner: The Pickle Barrel (not pictured).
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| The Eaton Centre: Eldon Square with higher ceilings/fewer radgies |
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| The corner of Queen Street and... *mumble* Street. |
In addition to owning a coat with a furry hood, I further Canadianised myself by helping the Man Of The House clear the fallen leaves from the front "yard" (garden). Granted, I'd never handled a lawnmower before today - even if I'd had the inclination, I simply couldn't have been trusted - but I didn't let that hold me back: I mowed that lawn as if my name was Joe Canada, the golden leaves disappearing up into my mower-sack like so many lines up Daniella Westbrooke's shnoz.
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| Mr Neighbour, I've got two words for ya... LEAFY LAWN! (NB: Mr Neighbour tends to clear both yards; a courtesy not returned on this - or any - occasion) |
TV Update: Remember that blonde lass from The Goonies? The one who was friends with the other lass, and ended up shnecking on with Corey Feldman? She's now in an admittedly pretty good sitcom. But she's also now twelvety years older than tea. Exhibit A:
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| She's making some crack about stealing coins from fountains. Pretty clever. |
Music Update: Heavy D, off of Heavy D and the Boyz, has passed. He was more like Skinny D and no boyz in the last few years, but he'll always be heavy to me.
