Tag Archives: She Does The City

At the combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell…

Das Racist at Wrongbar with Lauren Continue reading

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For She Does The City: When Detmar met Isabella, an interview with Detmar Blow

In 2007, the art and fashion world was shocked by the suicide of Isabella Blow. An iconic figure in her bright red lipstick, gravity-defying Philip Treacy hats, and armorial, avant garde ensembles, Isabella ended a life long battle with depression in the same way as her husband’s father, drinking poison. Detmar Blow, her partner for 18 years, pays tribute to his wife’s artistic vision and emotional struggles in a new book, Blow by Blow. Edited by Tom Sykes, husband of Issie’s fellow Voguette and once-assistant, Plum, the book moves at a fast clip through Issie’s tragic childhood, raucous youth, and veritable storming of the international fashion scene, but never shies away from the painful reality of the swinging pendulum of manic depression. Read more on She Does The City…

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SASQUATCH MUSIC FESTIVAL DAY 3: Passion Pit, The Mountain Goats, Band of Horses, MGMT, Keep Blogging Sexy.

On the third day, we sleep in. We sleep in, and then we devour a bottle of wine and several PBRs in the back of our car while sunshowers drizzle down on the campsite and friendly festivalgoers make the rounds, giving away joints and guacamole. We make friends with a pitbull, and watch a game of beer pong accessorized with viking helmets. As the afternoon grows tall (heh), we make our way to the grounds in time for Passion Pit. A giant inflatable whale makes its way above the heads of the crowd and Michael Angelakos is delighted. “Get that whale up here!” he shouted. “Now sing! Sing to the whale!” Read more on She Does The City…

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SASQUATCH MUSIC FESTIVAL DAY 2: Caribou, Midlake, Tallest Man On Earth, Kid Cudi, LCD Soundsystem, Schemesquatch 2010

Dear Sasquatch: Yesterday, you managed to scheme your way into my wallet and burgle from me many fine American dollars to pay for your $9 tall cans. But that was yesterday, and today is not that day. Today, we wrap PBRs in a Peruvian blanket and pull off the first of many Sasquatch Schemes. Schemesquatch 2010. Ours was probably the least creative of all the smuggles – I’m giving the gold medal to the girls who put vodka in ziploc bags and stuffed them in their bras. Read more on She Does The City…

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SASQUATCH MUSIC FESTIVAL 2010 DAY 1: Edward Sharpe, BSS, The Very Best, Vampire Weekend, and the Canadian Drunk Bloggers Union

I wake up at The Gorge on Saturday morning to Justin and Robyn listening to Dinosaur Jr., drinking PBR, and eating free bagels and organic cream cheese. After assembling our necessary items, we headed out of the camp site down the winding path to the festival, amidst a sea of tanned kids dressed either in varying degrees of Native American cultural appropriation or as Where’s Waldo. Read more on She Does The City…

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On The Road To The Sasquatch Music Festival: Hitchhiking, Sangria, Whistler, and the Defensive Properties of Rachael Ray Paring Knives

I arrive in Vancouver after 24 hours of busing up the Pacific Northwest. I get in around dinnertime, and SDTC Vancouver writer Vanessa meets me at the bus station. We head back to her place in Mount Pleasant for showers and to collect her roommate Marta, then head to Main St. We go to The Foundation, where the grinning waiters trip around the funky space clutching giant trays of nachos in their tattooed arms and taking your order from behind thick black frames. Revolutionary sayings line the walls, and we sit down on mismatched chairs, served water in jamjar glasses. Over a pitcher of delicious sangria and a platter of the nacho special-with bell peppers and basil added to the usual fixins, and generous piles of sour cream, sweet salsa, and guac, the girls tell me about hitchhiking up to Squamish, wielding Marta’s Rachael Ray paring knife to defend themselves (and cut up their pack-lunch sandwiches.) Riding in a toilet truck, she rummaged in her bag to show off her weapon. “Seriously, honey, I would have killed you by now,” their driver grinned.

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On the road to the Sasquatch Musical Festival: 100 million Greyhound Buses, Doing It Caveman-style, Love of the Luggageless

First, a few words about Greyhound. Choice words. We’ve always had a symbiotic co-existence, the ‘hound and I. I’ve logged many hours-nay, days-at a time crisscrossing the continent on their coach buses, and they’ve always been good to me. That’s why I (perhaps rashly. Possibly foolishly.) decided to circumnavigate North America on a solo bus journey from Toronto to the Sasquatch Music Festival outside Seattle. But apparently, something has changed. I don’t know what I did, but somewhere between grabbing a Blue Moon on a Nashville patio with my roommate and munching a $2 quesadilla in Amarillo, Texas, Greyhound decided to eat my backpack, and with it, several of my worldy possessions (that is to say, clothes). Standing in a severely embarrassing state at the customer service desk of the downtown LA bus station, mascara stains smearing the front of my glasses, I think I managed to frighten every single person who worked there with my uncontrollable sleep-deprived sobbing, my pleas for assistance, and my three-day bus hair. Read more on She Does The City…

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Inside The Ontario Food Terminal

If you look to your right while rolling west along the Gardiner Expressway, you’ll see an endless line of silver trucks, parked under names like Gambles Ontario Produce. An ad for fresh Ontario mushrooms stands atop a tall sign, and a warehouse stretches behind the parking lot. Burly men wander, small as ants, around the large trucks, pushing flats of vegetables on dollies. For most Torontonians, this is the closest they’ll ever get to where their food comes from. Read more on She Does The City…

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She Does The City Road Trip, Day 12: Portland, Oregon to Vancouver, B.C. [314 miles]

LOST! HAVE YOU SEEN ME? Actually, it was my twin, who was almost finished (knitting needles still attached) and tucked into a small, dark blue pack clothe bag. We are a present for Jesse and there is no more yarn. I REPEAT, NO MORE YARN!!!!”

-sign on a telephone pole at 32nd and Belmont, Portland

We wake up, and after making us scrambled eggs with corn tortillas mixed in, Lee walks us through one of Portland’s many parks to one of Portland’s many Stumptowns, in Belmont-adjacent to an old-time arcade, a sun-drenched porch with a lone can of PBR on the railing, and an adorable blonde boy petting a giant dog. Portland, once again, exactly what it’s supposed to be. After slurping rich coffee and inhaling buttery croissants, we walk back through the neighbourhoods, ducking prayer flags, to pack up our stuff and get ready to say goodbye to both our American compatriots and America itself. We leave Lee with the sunshine, frost, a hungover roommate and a stray cat, and drive Joanna to the Portland airport. After sifting through ten thousand pounds of roadtrip garbage in my car to extricate her stuff, we exchange glum hugs and head north. Read more on She Does The City…

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She Does The City Road Trip, Day 11: Portland, Oregon

Portland is exactly what it’s supposed to be. As we drive in, we find it would be very easy to get drunk or furnish an apartment, but not that easy to eat breakfast. We find parking underneath a Whole Foods (PORTLAND IS EXACTLY WHAT IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE) and stop at Everett Street Bistro, for Hungarian Mushroom soup with dill and creme fraiche. After brunch? Destiny. Also known as embracing the concept of bankruptcy and trading our dignity for a cardboard sack full of books worth salivating over from Powell’s City of Books , the greatest bookstore in the human universe. It’s so big they actually had to design the store around a hill. Powell’s trumps geography, and my bank account. Read more on She Does The City…

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