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So I think this is the LG Fashion Week.

I gotta be honest with you, I don’t follow it too closely. I mean, I may not be that stereotypical sport-watching (unless you count Formula 1), beer-drinking (not averse though), guy who communicates through bodily noises (though I’m guilty of relaxing, certainly), but fashion is lost on me entirely. I firmly believe that heterosexual male genes do not allow one to comprehend fashion. The mind simply does not connect with it. Sure, it looks good on the girl, but in what way is it practical?

Will it keep my hands warm in the winter? Is it coloured neon orange so that in the event of an emergency I can wave it aloft to signal airborne emergency crews? Is it worth the money? Because I don’t need any tassels or doohickeys, and sure as hell no fluffy balls; I just want my money’s worth (and an extra pair of shoelaces). Since fashion is simply a word, a subjective concept like God or banana bread, it doesn’t affect the decision-making process.

And then there’s this:

I don’t know how the women put up with this. When I sit down for a haircut, I’m expecting to be out in fifteen minutes. Chatter to a minimum – cutting of the hair is priority. These girls probably sit in those chairs for hours having crap smeared on their faces and chemicals tossed on their hair. I’d have a powder brush to someone’s throat in about thirty seconds.

I doubt there will be a repeat of last year’s humorously inebriated speech by Robin Kay, the president of the Fashion Design Council of Canada (and major Fashion Week organizer).  “[That] kind of bad behaviour is the equivalent of wearing a bad accessory”, said one of the event’s vice-presidents afterwards.

I really only have a gestural response to this one: *palm up, shrug, and “I have no idea” smirk*

I might also add: *gentle side-to-side head shake*; for emphasis.

The same could be said of the following item:

You may have noticed that this doesn’t look much like Fashion Week anymore, but it is somewhat related. They’re trying to get me to call this “yarnbombing” after the graffiti word “bomb” (to paint), but I refuse to do it. It’s a bunch of knitted yarn tied a utility pole in a park for the purpose of beautifying it. I read about it in a Star article today which tried to equate the activity of affixing a knitted square to a fence, to spray-painting a wall in a dank, dark alley.

Don’t get me wrong, putting cozies on everything isn’t such a bad thing. But as many people (mostly ladies) who put their knitting and stitching up last year discovered, a little rain or snow will quickly give their good intentions the middle finger.

Just not practical.

Today it rained all day.

May flowers are looking pretty distant right now. My shoes, having been on my feet most of the winter, are now starting to get that glorious and ripe spring aroma that is released through repeated drenching in April’s showers.

On my way home I passed a few hotels with some unprepared tourists milling about in front trying to figure out how to stretch the openings of handbags wide enough to use them as dilapidated hats. Others were pulling their t-shirts over their heads, shoulders shrugged in a in a pitiful huddle to accommodate the relocated collar, which was now an elongated port hole through which they peered helpless, dazed, and destitute.

Poor poor people. Did no one tell them Toronto weather can’t be trusted?

Weather. Yes, fine topic. Isn’t that the topic you choose when you want tell someone that you’re absolutely not interested in any sort of meaningful conversation?

It’s a conversation that too few travel guides about Toronto have, if you ask me. What’s there is usually something like: “…frigid in January…blah blah…sweltering in August…blah blah blah David Miller is so hot…blah blah.” It’s fair to say that this crass generalization encompasses all guides about Toronto so there’s no need to provide links or supporting quotes.

Instead of waiting for them to get their acts together, I’m going to deliver my piece on Toronto weather in a single word: layers

Start with a comfortable cotton undershirt. A button-down shirt with expertly “distressed” cuffs and collar on top of that. Next, a loosened cravate emblazoned with a funky puke green-brown, retro seventies, broken strip pattern; or maybe a happy, bright, fun one with a stylized flower in a gay colour.

Slide into a happening blazer. Water-proof, wind-proof, child-resistant, anti-corrosion, and weather-treated coat to top it off. Now you’re ready.

The thing that the guides rarely mention is that you’re as likely to spend your time indoors as you are outdoors. There are a couple of times in the year where the outdoor temperature and humidity match most indoor ones, but these are as rare as the savage marital rites of the women of Balthazar. Never heard of them? Exactly.

For all other times in the year you’re either going to be:

1. One of those Starbucks-carrying chicks (sorry, but it usually is chicks), twitching spasmodically down Yonge street in a frantic attempt to keep warm with nothing on but a t-shirt, torn jeans, and irresponsibly tiny shoes, as the outdoor temperature starts to fall below -10^oC (14^oF) .
2. A delirious puddle of flesh swimming in the squishy lining of your massive parka that, now that you’re indoors you either have to wear, or portage above your head like a canoe because it’s just too fucking big to carry any other way. Why the hell did you buy that thing?!
3. Just dripping. I mean totally drenched; socks, underwear, inside, outside, every layer; you name it, it’s wet. Summer soakers are even worse. In an air-conditioned mall, hypothermia sets in in minutes. A combination of hyper-erect nipples and annoying squeaky sneakers can result in severe and dangerous facial flushing.
4. Some really funny combination of the above.

Even Toronto’s famous soupy summers require layering, but for a different reason. In this type of weather an undershirt does most of the absorption and evaporation of sweat. Unless your pits are soaked, most of it won’t transfer to the light shirt you wear on top. An extra sweater comes in super handy when you sit down at the movies where the A/C always seems to be cranked to 11. Finally, a light jacket should make you more comfortable in the wind by the water, and protects your clothing when tucking into a leisurely nautical meal where “instant seagull delight” is on the menu.

Funky fresh dressed to impress, ready to party.