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I have spent the past 48-65 hours in a trancelike state of existence in multiple locations, mimicking early 1970’s video effects where identical images cross over and break off into transparencies of one another, becoming motion-picture homages to Warhol’s pop-art imagery in different monochromatic tonalities.

First things first.

I was politely and privately chastised by a good friend with genius intentions with regard to some of the statements I made on the MuchMusic interview we shot the other day. It seemed to him that perhaps I was trivializing or making light of the idea of stalking/being stalked, so I wanted to set the record straight. I certainly don’t think that being actually followed by someone who is genuinely disillusioned with regard to the nature of the relationship with the object of their desire is a “cool” or “sexy” thing. I have certainly, as I said in the interview, encountered a few individuals who have made their intentions/presence constant, scary and the furthest thing from sexy. So while I make no apologies for the content in the interview or the music, I want to also assure that I am not attempting to take a dangerous concept and make it cool. Whatever that means.

Art’s purpose is to make the audience feel something. So whether that is a “positive” response, or like much of the “negative” feedback I have received with regard to lyrical content, iconography or recurrent themes in some of my work (and anticipate much more with the coming projects), I am satisfied to provoke responses that engage, whether it brings hate mail or love notes.

Back to life, back to (un)reality. I attended the opening of the second coming of Dennis’ House Of Vintage Thursday, which ended up being a well-soundtracked, cocktail-fueled conference for the fashionable and fashionably disillusioned. Set in an open, well-lit storefront on West Queen West (the late-blooming, visibly pierced second cousin to the now completely gentrified Queen West), The House Of Vintage moved from its original location at Queen W & Portland two years ago and has only this month been reborn – a brilliant move on their part, as its absence only encouraged demand by a ravenous fanbase (including the Hollywood set – Misha Barton and her ilk have been frequent flyers). DHOV selects pretty much ONLY beautiful, high end vintage pieces that will blend well with the beautiful, high end clientele that play pretty paperdolls in revamped make-believe 1960’s Yorkville.

TORONTO LIFE has Best-Of’d DHOV about ten zillion times, with quotes like “Channel your inner femme fatale with Chloé, Dior and Pucci goodies from the 1950s to ’80s. For ’50s glam, go with a dark blue lace and silk cocktail dress ($200). Or give the ’70s a go with geometric Lanvin shirt-dresses, starting at $150. The options for men are equally dream making: finds include blazers from the ’70s and ’80s ($50–$80) and old Adidas track jackets ($50). Halston and YSL shoes ($70–$150) are big for fall.” Dennis has styled me for several events, notable favorites have been a 1960’s paisley minidress I wore for a segment on the CBC, the incredible high-waisted Chanel sailor trousers I wore to the Nelstar launch this summer, and my future jetset YSL pantsuit.

(“It will be mine, oh yes… it will be mine.”)

1239 Queen West, hit it and plan to physically fight me for the postfuturistic yet achingly 60’s Ferragamo handbag.

(Which is likely gone as on-hold’s flew off shelves and racks as dedicated followers of fashion scooped fierce finds from far off lands. Holy Alliteration, Nation.)

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