Photographer Caitlin Cronenberg, the curator of the RED exhibition, in front of a photo of her filmmaker father. Story by Emily Blake. Photography by Louie D.
Last night, I solved one of the city’s greatly lamented questions: “Where are all the men?” My first night of TIFF-trotting found me at two deeply different parties, and at each was a veritable swarm of men.
First up was the party for RED, curated by Caitlin Cronenberg and held at PEARS on the Avenue, the condo showroom at Ave and Dav, currently converted into the TORO After Dark Lounge. I suppose one shouldn’t be shocked when attending an event hosted by a men’s magazine that there would be men there. But so many! And for an art exhibit? Shocking.
The event was uptown in all conceivable ways—suits aplenty, cold cocktails, hot apps, a candy bar, and plenty of bling. Perhaps all the men were there to get a peek of D. Cronenberg, whose films are practically universally acclaimed among the testosterone set. Though the photos themselves—a glimpse into the New York Times’s Canadian photo archive, recently purchase by the owner of TORO— are really enough of a draw. Some of the images featured well known faces (Jackie O nose to nose with a horse—adorable!) and some were more esoteric, but Miss C did an excellent job of placing them throughout the space; every time I found myself in a nook there was something fascinating to look at.
Also fascinating was the contingent of TV talent—Colin Mochrie, Spenny (sans Kenny), Natalie Brown—and scenesters like Jeff Stober of the Drake, communications maven Mary Symons and designer guy Anwar Mukhayesh. It was clear this off-the-grid TIFF event was one of the evening’s best fetes.
But in the true spirit of TIFF one must never linger in one location too long.
I am nothing if not thorough, so when the opportunity to flip the script and get a bit grimy arose I flagged a cab without delay. Downtown we went, just about as down as downtown gets, to the Fubar II after-party appropriately held at Parkdale’s coolest dive, Wrongbar. I was not dressed appropriately (not sure Alexander McQueen stilettos are Fubar-sanctioned) but half the fun of TIFF is showing up in unexpected places, wearing unexpected things.
On arriving it was clear we weren’t in Rosedale anymore. In honour of the movie, everyone in the city with a mullet was in attendance, and most had chosen the classic Canadian tuxedo as garb. Drinks were served in chipped highballs rather than flutes, but I am the kind of girl who appreciates a simple cocktail, no lemongrass garnish required, so I settled in with glee. I saw ironic hats, mustaches, and T-shirt slogans, and kids dancing with abandon. My party buddy and I played a rousing game of costume/no costume, trying to decipher who was dressed up as characters from the film (plenty of those) and who just dressed like that always (equally as plentiful).
I could have gone on all night—and many probably did—but my tiredness coincided perfectly with the first strains of some truly awful singing in the rockstar karaoke performance, and I rocked out.
And that is the true magic of TIFF my friends—every end of the spectrum. Shiny, grimy, star-studded and studded denim. Let the fabulous, ridiculous see-saw begin!
More photos from inside the Toro/RED party. Photography by Louie D.
David and Caitlin Cronenberg.
Actress Natalie Brown (far right) and friends.
Boxer George Chuvalo and Chris Bratty.
William Morassutti, of TORO, with Caitlin Cronenberg.
Earlier in the evening, the Fubar II cast on the red carpet. Photo by Christopher Drost/Torontoist.