Politics of Looking on the Main

Politics of Looking on the Main

Yesterday, as I walked back from my Au papier japonais art class on St. Laurent Boulevard, I was subjected to a young man sticking his head out the window and yelling something garbled about my attire or physical appearance. This behaviour struck me as odd. For one, the car would lose all of its heat; two, it was January and cold and whatever fashion law I had transgressed, I'm not sure that his baseball cap on backwards was scoring any aesthetic points; and three, I'm on my way home from an art class in my own neighbourhood and obviously not out to be seen.

Unfortunately, this type of behaviour on the Main is common in the warmer months. St. Laurent Boulevard is physically part of my neighbourhood, but in the Montreal mindset, "the Main" belongs to everyone in the Greater Montreal area. In fact, it is not unheard of to be snubbed in a shop or restaurant, even though it's just around the corner from your home. But this affected attitude towards area residents only accelerates the merchant's commercial demise. Closure of failed businesses on the Main is a regular occurrence.

As we all know, St-Laurent Boulevard is the place to be seen, particularly further south towards Sherbrooke. The incident yesterday had me thinking about the main protagonist in Rawi Hage's Cockroach, the story about a troubled young immigrant from a war-torn country who experiences Montreal in a very different way than the city's rank and file.

Our main protagonist is walking down the Main and passes by a chic Italian restaurant (Buonanotte perhaps...) where he stops to look at the opulence of the restaurant and a couple having dinner. A few minutes later, a man in an expensive suit emerges from the restaurant and asks him to leave. An argument ensues. Our protagonist is on the sidewalk, he explains, a public space, and he has a right to stand there. It makes sense. People are there to be seen, so why can't he look. He informs the bouncer that he has broken no law. A few minutes later, two cops come by and demand to see his papers. This creates a scene in front of the restaurant, and our protagonist glances up to see that the couple he was watching earlier is now intently enjoying some unexpected dinner entertainment, and he's the star.

I would not be the least bit surprised if this story were based on fact. I've always been under the impression that there is an unwritten code about looking on St-Laurent Boulevard. It goes something like this: You may ogle, gape at and comment on whoever is on the sidewalk on the Main. However, you can only glance at people paying top dollar in the restaurants. In fact, the glance of a passerby is expected and even encouraged, as it increases the business's status and ultimately its bottom line. But the view of the street from inside the restaurant is the exclusive right of the patrons eating their pricey carbonara. They can gawk to their heart's content, or at least they can look if they feel so inclined.

Unsurprisingly, I take St-Laurent only when I have to and frequent restaurants elsewhere in my neighbourhood, where being seen is not a concern and even a cat can look at the queen.

Other hood-related posts

What it is by Lynda Barry
The True Gender
Almost a Visit to Gender
St-Viateur: the Polish Bazaar
The Mile End Buzz Around Beekeeping
For the Love of Vinyl
Airing Our Dirty Laundry
Filming on St-Viateur
A Sense of Humour With the Wilensky's Special
S.W. Welch: the Nicolski Coincidence
The Lure of Fishing on Bernard




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Eating Bagels and Crow

Eating Bagels and Crow

Illustration by Eloi Champagne

Thursday morning was particularly disastrous. In addition to stopping twice to pick up bagels, a key mix-up and two return trips home to fetch forgotten items, I arrived late for work. The bagel taste-test, however, was still on. Lucie had stopped in at Faubourg Ste-Catherine and Real Bagels to pick up her prize possessions at roughly the same time I did so that freshness would not be an issue.

There was one slight difference between our bagels. Lucie's had poppy seeds and sesame seeds respectively. As a purist, I opted for plain, or "naked" bagels as Lucie referred to them. Apparently, Montreal bagels always come with either poppy or sesame seeds, in case you didn't know. We also decided that smoked salmon, cream cheese and capers might interfere with the actual bagel testing, so we settled on serving them with just butter.

We cut our bagels into quarters and passed them around the lunchroom table to roughly 15 people. The first round was St-Viateur, second Fairmount, third Faubourg Ste-Catherine and finally Real Bagels, the one Lucie raved about, or was it the scent and aesthetically pleasing counter assistance? Can't really recall now...

As we all sat around the lunchroom table, we discussed prices. A half-dozen of Fairmount bagels was $3.10. While the Faubourg and Real Bagels were more expensive, they were also larger. St-Viateur was by far the cheapest because when I explained the taste-test to the smirking manager, he handed me a half-dozen free of charge. I explained this random act of generosity to the Fairmount manager to see if some publicity was worth $3.10, hoping for similar consideration. He shook his head and said, "Nope. That's them," referring to his closest competitors. I was halfway through this story when Lucie interrupted me. She thought it might sway the opinion of our testers. "Remember," she said. "This is strictly about the bagel." Fair enough, I thought. They could always read about it on my blog.

The Results

I was surprised by the results, as was everyone else. We found that Fairmount bagels were chewier than the other bagels. They were also more savoury than the St-Viateur bagels. I have to admit I wasn't expecting to notice such a difference. The Faubourg and Real competitors were breadier and a touch drier. I preferred the sweeter St-Viateur bagels, and I wasn't alone. Twelve of the fifteen testers preferred St-Viateur, while three preferred Fairmount. The Faubourg and Real Bagels didn't get a single vote. Lucie conceded defeat.

If you're a diehard Fairmount fan, you still have 4 days to vote. In addition, if you click on my Facebook icon and "like" my blog, you'll have a chance to win a fabulous St-Viateur Bagel Shopping Bag, whether you vote or not.

More Food for Thought

I've always been leery of taste-tests. I suspect that the order of samples can influence your choice. I've also heard that sweeter things tend to fare better over their savoury competitors. It's a little bit like books. Whether you like one or not often depends on when you read it and other myriad factors.... like if the counter assistance had gorgeous dreadlocks.

Further Reading on Bagels in the Press
The Bagel House

Other related posts:
Bagel Conundrum
Mile End's Ring of Fame



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Bagel Conundrum

Bagel Conundrum

Feeling Slightly Faint!

I've been challenged since my post about the Mile End bagels. I may speak French and English, but evidently, I don't speak Bagel.

I've also learned that the best bagel place is not in the Mile End, but instead in Laval and Brossard, as well as on Beaubien and Sherbrooke. I've even been told by a Torontonian that Toronto does a very good Montreal bagel, only not as good....

When asked who I thought I was to state so matter-of-factly that the best bagels were in the Mile End, I replied that I had read it in the New York Times. But that settled nothing.

"How would a NYT writer know where to find the best bagels in Montreal? That makes no sense! Has this writer tried all the bagels in Montreal?"

"Well, probably not," I said, feeling undone and very much from Ontario. This could very well be why no one is answering my survey. There seems to be a lot of very strong opinions about who makes the best bagels.

This can only be settled one way--a taste test. Lucie is bringing in carbohydrate creations from her two favourite bakeries, and I'm bringing in a half-dozen from St-Viateur and Fairmount. I'll fill you in on the results later today.

Please cast your vote if you haven't already (top right).


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Mile End's Ring of Fame

Mile End's Ring of Fame

With our moving day fast approaching, I came to the realization that there were a lot of things that I still haven't covered in my neighbourhood, the people, places and things that give the Mile End its character. I used to skip around the area icons. No point running in circles, dishing up the already served. But now my readers are no longer strictly from the immediate area, so it's time to get rolling on some of the seeds that have brought both dough and fame to the hood.

In my 10 years in this neighbourhood, I've rarely met anyone who could resist the tantalizing scent of the roasting sesame seeds of wood-fired oven-baked bagels. Both St-Viateur and Fairmount bagel shops draw hungry patrons from the four corners of Montreal, creating long lines and double-parking mayhem on two of our main thoroughfares. And let's face it: we've all gotten in line to buy just one bagel, which we eat plain as we walk down the street, and we've all found telltale sesame seeds on the upholstery of someone's car, who couldn't wait to get the half-dozen home.

That's right folks. The Mile End has always been Bagel land. And Lucie, I don't care if Westmount has a great bagel place, the Mile End has bagel history and bagel magic, two things that money can't buy. And I'm not alone in my opinion, just ask the Grey Lady. The New York Times reported in December 2009 that  Montreal's two best bagel shops were St-Viateur and Fairmount. They also described our carbohydrate creation as leaner and sweeter with a smokier, thicker crust than its more savoury, bloated New York cousin.

But when push comes to shove, which Mile End bakery serves up the best bagel: St-Viateur or Fairmount? (Please let me know in the comments or take my survey:top right.) For all you out-of-towners, who've never tasted either one of these bagels, I'll be giving away two St-Viateur cloth shopping bags to two lucky people who click on my Facebook icon and "like" my blog.

The Competitors

The Original

The Fairmount Bagel Bakery (1919), 74 Fairmount West

As any Montrealer will tell you, in days of yore the Mile End was a Jewish neighbourhood. In 1919, Isadore Shlafman, a Russian immigrant, opened the first bagel shop on "the Main" and then moved to Fairmount street in 1949. Shlafman is believed to be the person who introduced the bagel to both Montreal and the universe, as Montreal-born astronaut Greg Chamitoff brought the first bagel into space. But it should also be mentioned that Chamitoff is a cousin of the current owner, Erwin Shlafman.

Fairmount is open 24 hours a day, year round, and a few times a week, you may have some problems getting in the door, as the store is often full of red plastic delivery crates. Just take a look at the picture for evidence thereof. When I asked the girl some questions about the store, she referred me to the store's website.

The Upstart
St-Viateur Bagel (1957) 263 St-Viateur West

It has been reported that one of Fairmount's employees learned the bagel business before striking out on his own and starting St-Viateur. However, according to the company website, St-Viateur Bagel was started by Myer Lewkowicz, who brought his now famous recipe from Eastern Europe to Montreal in 1957. It was later purchased by Joe Morena, who has kept Lewowicz's tradition alive for the past 45 years. St-Viateur has expanded to include two cafés and four bakeries, two of which are located in the Mile End.

In many respects, St-Viateur looks as though it hired Wilensky's interior decorator, and appears to be stuck somewhere in 1957. There is, however, quite a collection of autographed pictures of celebs who have come through the door and lined up like other mere mortals. The picture of Leonard Cohen with Joe Morena was the one that immediately caught my eye. I suspect Cohen is not smiling because he has a sesame seed stuck between his teeth. St-Viateur also has some great souvenir t-shirts and cloth shopping bags, two of which I will be giving away. It too is open 24 hours a day.

Added bonus: St-Viateur has online sales and ships to other areas of Canada and the US.

Although you might prefer the PR or client service of one bagel bakery over the other, this is immaterial. Right now, it is purely a bagel-vs-bagel competition. So Montrealers, former and present, which one is your favourite?

Further reading on Montreal bagels in the New York Times:
Montreal bagels square off against New York's 

Other hood-related posts

What it is by Lynda Barry
The True Gender
Almost a Visit to Gender
St-Viateur: the Polish Bazaar
The Mile End Buzz Around Beekeeping
For the Love of Vinyl
Airing Our Dirty Laundry
Filming on St-Viateur
A Sense of Humour With the Wilensky's Special
S.W. Welch: the Nicolski Coincidence
The Lure of Fishing on Bernard


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The Bone Cage by Angie Abdou

The Bone Cage by Angie Abdou

The Bone Cage by Angie Abdou
(Warning: spoilers)

Set in Calgary, the Bone Cage is about two athletes determined to compete at the Sydney Olympics. Sadie Jorgensen is a 26-year-old long-distance swimmer who trains for six hours a day, works at the university gym for minimum wage and still lives at home. Digger is a competitive wrestler who at 31 is chasing his last chance at his Olympic dream.

The story's point of view alternates between Sadie and Digger until their paths cross at the University of Calgary gym. Although their sports differ greatly, their commitment, focus and single-mindedness are very similar. In any other story, we would expect a relationship to develop, but we quickly learn that romance would interfere with their training and ultimately their goals.

Early in the story, Sadie experiences the misfortune of losing her grandmother, suffering her first break in concentration and training. This, however, is more of a blessing in disguise, as it forces her to imagine what life might be like after the Olympics. The next break involves a car crash. Digger, the driver, escapes with minor scrapes and bruises, while Sadie sustains more serious injuries, and the second break in her training.

I'm not one to watch sports on TV. The commentators' clichés and hackneyed metaphors grate on my nerves. This book, however, is well written, and as one of my colleagues pointed out, the author says a lot in very few words. She also performs the miracle of making wrestling interesting to the average reader--no small feat. Therefore, accessibility is one of the book's strongest points. I was also pleased to see that the main protagonist was a woman athlete because, sadly, the focus in sport is almost always on men. Besides, sporty girls and young women need role models like Sadie Jorgensen.

The Bone Cage also showed the darker side of elite amateur sport and that fine line between determination and obsession. I'd always thought of amateur athletes as wholesome and committed, and until I read this book, I'd never considered how unhealthy it was to focus solely on something as elusive as the Olympics. This was well illustrated in Ben, Digger's wrestling buddy, who fails to qualify for the Olympic team and ends up in a psychiatric hospital, later turning to religion. I finished this book with a greater appreciation for the psychological fortitude elite athletes require, ability and experience aside.

Overall, if the Bone Cage had not been a Canada Reads finalist, I probably never would have picked it up, but I'm happy that I did. It gave me a realistic picture of what makes an Olympic-calibre athlete tick. And if  I could ask the author one question, it would be this: Why did you choose Sadie to be the injured party in the car accident? Digger continues his training and eventually goes to the Olympics. He feels some remorse and guilt about the accident even though it was not his fault. But life goes on...Sadie accepts Digger's choice and is not bitter about his decision. But if Digger's Olympic dream had been shattered by injury and Sadie had continued on with her Olympic dream would this book have been as well-received?

I'd love to hear from anyone who has read the Bone Cage.

Other Canada Reads related reviews

Unless by Carol Shields
Essex County by Jeff Lemire


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Recipe for Dirty Dozen Toxin-Free Detangler

Recipe for Dirty Dozen Toxin-Free Detangler

What you'll need

Reading the Birth House had me thinking about home remedies again. Sitting behind my kids a few nights ago, I was astounded by the knots in their fine hair. They've both been sick with a cough and spent the better part of the week in their pyjamas and bed. The winter heating and cold weather make everyone's hair extra dry in January and February.

There are a number of spray-in hair detanglers on the market, some which work and some which don't. I gave up on them last fall when I read the list of ingredients on the brand we once used. It contained at least 7 dirty dozen ingredients, which included carcinogens, and because it was something I used daily on my kids' hair, I decided to give it the heave-ho.

This week, I tried a new recipe that worked almost as well as the previous toxic brand. Another great point, it costs next to nothing to make.

I took the dirty-dozen free Oneka hair conditioner and squeezed in enough to cover the bottom of a 750ml clear plastic spray bottle that I bought for a buck at the dollar store. I filled the spray bottle up to the top with water, shook the mixture until there was no more conditioner on the bottom, and my detangler was ready.

My daughter was my guinea pig. I found the centre of the knots, sprayed on some detangler and let it sit for 10 minutes. Then I combed her hair through. Of course, whether it worked or not depends on how it looked when it dried. I was afraid it would stick together and feel greasy, but it was smooth and dry to the touch.

My son, as you can see, has been harder to pin down to try out our new product.

BTW, Lucie finished her lemon and ylang ylang shower gel and said that it added enough moisturizer that she didn't have to use as much body lotion after her shower (recipe in first link under Other related posts). I also had two other people sign up as guinea pigs. One is trying out a lavender and grapefruit shower gel and to date, she seems to be enjoying it.

Other related posts
Lucie's Zesty Tester
Update: DIY Cosmetics
DIY: Moisturizer and Shampoo
Cosmetics: the Dirty Dozen
DIY: Home Spa Salt Scrub
Dirty Dozen in my Personal Care Products
Living Downstream by Sandra Steingraber
Airing our Dirty Laundry
The Mile End Buzz around Beekeeping


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The Social Media Survival Guide by Deltina Hay

The Social Media Survival Guide by Deltina Hay

The Social Media Survival Guide: Strategies, Tactics and Tools for Succeeding on the Social Web
by Deltina Hay
Quill Driver Books
 (This book is to be released in March 2011. I was given an advanced review copy.)

This review was cross-posted at Elevate Difference.

 If you’re like me, you have a blog and a Twitter, Facebook, StumbleUpon, YouTube and Flickr account, but when someone starts to talk about CMS, metadata, Squidoo lenses, or the semantic web, you quickly tune out. We’re all aware of how vital the social web is for reaching new audiences, but we’re unsure of which tools are best suited to our online objectives, or which tools are the best investment of our time. In The Social Media Survival Guide, Deltina Hay walks you through the basics of using the most popular social media tools and helps you to devise your own strategy to meet your online objectives and hopefully save you time.

An added bonus, this book comes with a very useful CD to help you prepare your own social media strategy plan so that you can add the tools that best suit your needs and expand your social media presence. The CD worksheets and forms are also indispensable for maintaining records and keeping your online information consistent. The Social Media Survival Guide is intended for "do-it-yourselfers, resourceful business owners, motivated authors, innovative publishers, and directors of IT or marketing departments.” However, I could easily see some young self-starters using this book and CD to carve out a niche for themselves among older, more technically-limited business owners.

The Social Media Survival Guide is divided into fifteen chapters and appendices for code lovers with a burning desire to install WordPress or create an RSS Feed or widget from scratch. The book begins with your social media strategy plan, which you will repeatedly return to, and it offers seven sample strategy plans, which are especially helpful if your own profile mirrors one of the samples.

The book can be divided into three different parts. The first applies to the general public and addresses tags, or key terms; RSS feeds and blogs; building a WordPress site; and Pod, Vid, and Webcasting. The entire book is more useful if you have a WordPress blog or website because the subsequent chapters refer to how this Content Management System (CMS) can easily accommodate a large range of social media tools. The second part addresses Social Networking (Facebook) and Micro-blogging (Twitter), Social Bookmarking (Delicious) and Crowd-Sourcing (Digg), Media Communities (image-, video- and document-sharing) and Widgets. Although I thought I knew everything in this section, I still gleaned some useful information about some features on the ever-changing Facebook, and the section on document-sharing is definitely worth a look, particularly if you work in publishing. However, the author should have focused more on StumbleUpon rather than Delicious, whose future is uncertain.

The last section would be most useful to business people, but it’s still worth the read to learn about the other available tools. This section covers the Social Media News Room, other Social Media Tools (geo-tagging, event tools, etc.), Integration and Streamlining Tools, the Future of Social Media (Web 3.0), and How to Measure Success (Analytics, Search Optimization, etc). Deltina Hay uses easy-to-follow language throughout The Social Media Survival Guide. The chapters follow a logical order, and the book itself will serve as a great reference guide if only for eighteen months; by then the social media landscape will transform itself yet again.

After reading this book, which was initially overwhelming, I can honestly say that I learned a lot. I’ve also seen the limitations of Blogger as a CMS and have already made plans to change my blog over to WordPress. However, I wish that the publisher had fleshed out the Vid and Webcasting section and provided a script, as was done for Podcasting.

In the end, I found the book at 450 pages was too long for anyone who was not taking a course in social media at a college or university. Although the author is thorough, I believe that the publisher might be better off to break this text into three separate books to make it more palatable to the social media enthusiast. Otherwise, I fear that this textbook might stay on a to-do list until it’s old news.

Other book reviews
Unless by Carol Shields
Reads from Men
AYA: the Secrets Come Out
The Curious Case of the Communist Jell-O Box (zine)

Essex County by Jeff Lemire

Paul Goes Fishing by Michel Rabagliati
Some Thoughts on Canada Reads
Expozine's Broken Pencil
Make Me A Woman by Vanessa Davis
Death of the Liberal Class by Chris Hedges
Tattoos on the Heart by Gregory Boyle

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An Evening w/Comic Artist Lynda Barry

An Evening w/Comic Artist Lynda Barry

On Saturday night, spousal unit and I headed over to Hutchison to see none other than Lynda Barry. Our babysitter, grandma arrived early on this snowy January evening, so we had time to enjoy some french onion soup at Le Figaro beforehand. At a table by the front window, I sat explaining some of Lynda Barry's work to my husband as I looked across the street at the night's venue, the Ukrainian Federation. I was watching the line, which grew exponentially at about 6:25 pm. Although I could see my other half was reticent about going, he displayed his good sportsmanship and quickly paid the bill, just as I spied Barry at the back of Le Fig eating dinner.

At 6:30 pm, ticket holders flooded into the 1900s style Ukrainian Federation. The relatively small seats (Were Ukrainians small a century ago?) had wrought iron embellishment on the ends, which reminded me of old movie theatre seats. The hall quickly filled with a crowd later forming on the balcony just before the show started.

For 30 years, Barry penned her own syndicated comic strip, Ernie Pook's Comeek, in addition to at least a half-dozen books. A few years ago, Barry was picked up by Drawn & Quarterly, and What it is, her first book with the Montreal publisher, went on to become its longest bestseller. D&Q's Chris Oliveros introduced the comic artist on Saturday and announced that a retrospective of Barry's earlier work would be released in September 2011 under the title Everything...Can't Wait!

I had heard that Barry was both a funny and inspiring speaker, and I was not disappointed. Barry's talk focused on how drawing is in fact "deep play" and how play performs a vital role in developing the brain. "What is an image?" and "What makes something meaningful?" are some of the questions that Barry asked, the same questions she had been asked in the 1970s by Marilyn Frasca, a teacher at hippy dippy Evergreen College in Washington State. Barry joked that her college application consisted of a piece of paper with lentils glued to it in the shape of a peace sign.

Part stand-up comic, part motivational speaker, Barry inspired me and quickly won over my husband. We didn't even stick around for the Q&A or the book signing, even though my copy of Picture This was in my bag. No, we went straight home to draw! In fact, I wanted to get straight to the water colours after I'd seen how good Barry's drawings looked painted.

With the volume of my inner critic turned down low (couldn't switch it off completely), I took an exercise from Picture This and drew the Near-Sighted Monkey and then painted it with water colours. Yes, there are things that I would do differently next time, but I had fun nonetheless.

If you would like to start drawing again, I suggest you pick up a copy of Picture This and try to catch Lynda Barry the next time she comes to Montreal.

Other hood-related posts

What it is by Lynda Barry
The True Gender
Almost a Visit to Gender
St-Viateur: the Polish Bazaar
The Mile End Buzz Around Beekeeping
For the Love of Vinyl
Airing Our Dirty Laundry
Filming on St-Viateur
A Sense of Humour With the Wilensky's Special
S.W. Welch: the Nicolski Coincidence
The Lure of Fishing on Bernard






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Treasures, Yes. Cheap, No.

Treasures, Yes. Cheap, No.

Last week was my birthday and I was going to venture down to Nic and Gigi's Antiques and Collectibles shop at 155 Van Horne in the Mile End to buy myself a special gift. If you haven't noticed the shop, it's probably because it's in the basement, and the entrance is less than inviting. The six or seven steps would have you believe that you're descending into a dark dank cellar and well, you are.

Window on Van Horne

Last summer, my husband and I took those stairs not sure where they were leading us, and honestly I don't think that I would have gone down on my own. The steep industrial cement steps veered to the right but to God knows where. It was slightly creepy yet enticing at the same time. The last step led to an entrance and a wall of furniture, statues and curios. Amid the smell of dust and sounds of traffic from Van Horne, we found ourselves in a genuine treasure trove. We immediately noticed stained glass panels, something we had wanted to put in our condo a few years before. There were also fireplace mantels, religious icons and statues, chandeliers, church pews, paintings and other "funky" antiques and collectibles. The collector/buyer certainly had a good eye. We yelled hello a few times, so we wouldn't frighten whoever was down there, but more importantly, so they wouldn't frighten us.

The Contessa

The arrangement of objects was indeed...organic, and if you venture down those grey cement steps, I advise you not to wear anything knit, as there is a fair bit to catch your clothes on and inadvertently pull something down, leaving you buried never to be seen again.

We took our first right down a narrow path that snaked around the front of the store near the window, stopping to look at a half dozen items.This is where we met store owner Nic, a portly blue-eyed gentleman in his late sixties. My husband addressed him in French, without much of a reply. Then I tried in English, which elicited a response, albeit in Italian. We got the gist of what he was saying. We could look around, "no problema."

It was around this time that I spied mon objet de désir--a yellowing "Contessa" dial telephone. Although there were many furnishings I wanted to have, I'd have to wait until we moved into our more spacious duplex, but the phone we could still squeeze in. I wanted my kids to see the type of smoke-signal we used when I was growing up. It brought back some wonderful childhood memories. Unfortunately, last summer we were only carrying debit cards, and unsurprisingly, Nic only accepts cash.

Last week, I went back to see if the Contessa was still available. I set the maximum price I would pay at $40 and kept a few bills shoved in a pocket. Lady luck was smiling on me that day: the deluxe dial phone was still there. "Quanto?" I asked Nic. He signaled just a second with his index finger, and picked up the phone to call none other than Gigi. I could hear him describing the phone. He put his hand over the receiver and said "cinquanta" or fifty. I countered "quaranta." He relayed forty to Gigi. I heard some yelling from Gigi through the phone. Nic pulled his ear away from the receiver and shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said. That was it. I didn't have fifty bucks. I said good-bye and headed back up the cement steps.

I still wanted the phone, but $50 for a purely decorative communications device aroused some sudden thriftiness in me. I'd try again in a few months' time. Then Gigi might be more willing to barter.

I would still recommend this "store" to anyone who is looking for one-of-a-kind furnishings to build your home decor around. Remember, we only looked at what was lining our path around the shop. For you adventurous types that want to venture into the middle, there's plenty more to see. Just bear in mind that before you fall in love with something, you'll have to get your objet de désir out of the store--an excellent haggling point for a better price with Gigi. You might also want to invest in an Italian phrase book beforehand.

This is particularly a great spot if you're looking for antique religious items or vintage film posters in French or Italian. Nic and Gigi both sell and rent items.

Other Mile End-related posts
The True Gender
Almost a Visit to Gender
St-Viateur: the Polish Bazaar
The Mile End Buzz Around Beekeeping
For the Love of Vinyl
Airing Our Dirty Laundry
Filming on St-Viateur
A Sense of Humour With the Wilensky's Special
S.W. Welch: the Nicolski Coincidence
The Lure of Fishing on Bernard






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The True Gender

The True Gender

Gender's Cat

Although my little excursion into Décors 3D yielded some decent photos, I was a little flustered when I left the shop and noticed that Gender, the actual mannequin sales showroom, had a doorbell, which meant they weren't partial to walk-ins off the street. But I had enough momentum in me to ring the bell and wait a few seconds in the cold.

The Very Convincing Rootstein

A surprisingly calm and casually dressed middle-aged man answered the door and ushered me in. After briefly mentioning that I had a blog and lived in the neighbourhood, I asked him if I could look around and take some pictures, to which he politely agreed. From where I was standing, I noticed a woman from the corner of my eye. I took a few self-conscious steps towards the back of the store and then did a double take. She hadn't moved. This was a Rootstein. An unsettling feeling came over me, but it wasn't the creepy valley sensation you get from a figure at a wax museum, a figure that bears a striking resemblance but still has a number of telltale signs that it's only a replica. This felt more like deception. At the 15-foot distance, the mannequin looked real, but there was no feeling of a human presence.

Rootstein's Young and Restless

I continued to the back of the store and looked around a little more, but I don't remember very much. The mannequins were all in formal wear, and the lights were bright (at least I was right about something). I asked about the Rootsteins, and I was offered a brochure on the Temptation line. Then I asked about the controversial Young and Restless, and I was offered another brochure and shown the very narrow-chested young men. Because of the natural sunlight from the store window, these mannequins had the usual pallor of mannequins and reminded me of vampires. Lighting was obviously key to Rootstein's realism. I commented on the chest size.

"This is just the style right now. We'll see a more muscular look again," said my guide and salesman reassuringly.

Although I'm usually a chatty person, I was having some problems formulating questions. I eventually asked them if they carried any plus-sized mannequins. I was told that the company did indeed do a lot of business with many plus-size suppliers, and again I was handed another brochure from a German company. I quickly flipped to the spec for "Venus," a plus-sized mannequin, looking more like an average Canadian woman, but still a little narrow in the waist. We had a short conversation about rib cages. Manufacturers were apparently asked to add rib cages because clothes fell more the way they were intended to, but to consumers, a mannequin's protruding rib cage signified anorexia.

I had been completely wrong about the type of people I was going to find at this shop. Everyone had been more than accommodating and very generous with information. Then, as I was about to leave, a young man came forward and gave me a folder for all my newly acquired information along with a USB key with all the specs of the mannequins they carried. As my husband reminded me later when I got home, these specs were expensive items, and he experienced some pure geek euphoria when he examined the USB key.
"This is a 4-gig key...very cool," I recall him saying.

And the key's contents were even cooler. I discovered that Rootstein carries a Barbie mannequin line. The various manifestations of Barbie are all six feet tall with a 23-inch waist...

As I crossed St-Laurent Boulevard, I realized that my excursion had been successful. I had photos and more than enough information to write something on size politics. At the same time, I felt sick to my stomach and strangely empty. I couldn't get over the fact that so much effort had been put into perfecting human replicas. Why couldn't that type of energy be put into feeding the world's hungry?

I guess I'd forgotten about the requisite post-mannequin heebie jeebies.

More posts related to the hood:
Almost a Visit to Gender
St-Viateur: the Polish Bazaar
The Mile End Buzz Around Beekeeping
For the Love of Vinyl
Airing Our Dirty Laundry
Filming on St-Viateur
A Sense of Humour With the Wilensky's Special
S.W. Welch: the Nicolski Coincidence
The Lure of Fishing on Bernard

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Almost a Visit to Gender

Almost a Visit to Gender

We all have our own preconceived notions about fashion mannequins. For me, there is definitely an attraction-repulsion; in other words, I'd like to take a closer look, but I also know that the heebie jeebies lurk nearby.

When I walked by the Gender store window on St-Laurent last week, I was intrigued. What would the sales people be like at a high-end mannequin sales showroom...would they be accommodating? Or would they be dismissive skinny ex-models with thick make-up to conceal their wrinkles under the bright lights? I also imagined a strong smell of perfume and several androgynous mannequins whose gender would leave me struggling to find the right pronoun.

My inner feminist also wanted to know the measurements of the gals. I was interested in how these dimensions compared with the average Canadian woman, and I'd already bookmarked my Statistics Canada page and the National Eating Disorder Information Centre (NEDIC).

Okay, it was true. I was planning a piece on Size Politics, and much to my glee I discovered through my online research that Gender carried Rootstein, the highly realistic and equally controversial mannequins that caused a scandal last spring with its Young and Restless line. The male mannequins had gone waif with chest measurements that were a full 10 inches smaller than that of the average British male.

On my day off this week, I decided to go for a visit. A few feet from the door, I looked at a mannequin dressed in beautifully flowing sheet music and saw my reflection in the store window. I was wearing comfortable boots and a ripped ski jacket with my hair tied in a pony tail. I looked like a mommy and easy prey for an annoyed fashionista. Was some mean effeminate man going to start shrieking at me as soon I asked for a few dimensions?...Nevermind. I'd just ask for the specs for the various lines they carried.

All this fretting was for naught. I forgot my questions as soon as I walked in the door. There were so many incredible photo ops that I quickly asked for permission to take some pictures and walked around the store slightly stunned. The sales lady was warm and friendly and wore down-to-earth clothing and was no skinny-mini. Most of the time, she was busy with another customer. When she came around to talk to me, I asked her where her Rootsteins were, and she pointed to an older looking line.

"Sorry, I thought the Rootsteins were supposed to be realistic looking?" I said, trying to see how these mannequins were more realistic than the others.
"For the new Rootsteins, you'd have to look next door," she said.
"Next door?" I said.
"Yes, at Gender," she said.
"Oh," I said, "What is the name of this shop?"
"We do some work for Gender, but our shop is called Décors 3D . We specialize in the sale of recycled mannequins, decorations and accessories. We also do custom work," she said.

The work at la Boutique Décors 3D was very good, and as you'll see from the pictures below, their custom work is indeed eye-catching. As I would discover when I had to ring the bell to visit next door, Gender is a strictly by-appointment-only showroom, and I was finally able to see the Rootsteins. Tune in for my next post to find out about my unexpected reception.

The woman I spoke with was Nathalie Larivière, la Boutique Decors 3D, 5687 St-Laurent Blvd, Montreal, QC.



Related posts about the hood
St-Viateur: the Polish Bazaar
The Mile End Buzz Around Beekeeping
For the Love of Vinyl
Airing Our Dirty Laundry
Filming on St-Viateur
A Sense of Humour With the Wilensky's Special
S.W. Welch: the Nicolski Coincidence
The Lure of Fishing on Bernard
Christmas in Parc Lahaie


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Unless by Carol Shields

Unless by Carol Shields

In our Off-Canada Reads series at the office, Unless by Carol Shields rolled my way a few weeks ago. Some of my colleagues have already read Unless and have chosen not to re-read it. As I started to read it, I quickly understood why...

Our main character is 44-year-old Reta Winters who lives in a rural Ontario town, an hour's drive from Toronto. She is married to the town doctor and is the mother of three grown daughters. An accomplished literary translator, Reta has also written a book of light fiction and is writing its sequel. Then for reasons that we only discover at the end of the book, Norah, Reta's oldest daughter, drops out of university and starts begging on a street corner in downtown Toronto, wearing a sign with "goodness" written on it.

Norah is never far from her mother's thoughts, and Reta repeatedly blames her own shortcomings for what has happened to her daughter. Sensible Reta, various family members and friends visit Norah on the street but never force her to come home for fear they will only exacerbate the crisis.

Reta goes through the motions of her life: cleaning her farmhouse, writing her sequel, visiting friends and finishing a book tour. We discover that Reta harbours a certain resentment towards male privilege, and her daughter's sudden odd behaviour only turns this resentment into rage--rage that never seems to surface until her editor, Mr. Springer, wants to subject her sequel to substantial revision, which includes switching the point of view from the woman in her story to that of the male protagonist, giving Reta a nom de plume so that her gender is unclear and changing her book from light fiction to great fiction.

An underlying theme in this book is goodness versus greatness. Reta could be a great novelist, but she consciously chooses the safety of goodness. In fact, Unless was difficult for me to read because I found myself wanting to throttle Reta on more than one occasion. She claims that she was part of the women's liberation movement with Helen Redy singing "I am woman," yet the only bit of feminism she seems to have retained was choosing to work outside her housekeeping and mothering duties. Reta simply tows the line, and as the reader sees, her resentment slowly builds.

Whether I loathed Reta or not, Shields did achieve greatness with this book. I finished it two weeks ago, and I still find myself going over different parts. Although the main protagonist was annoying, Reta was a realistic character. Her reticence to take risks or assume the rights her generation had fought to attain is emblematic of an entire generation of women who were and are still afraid to assert themselves.

Unless succeeded in pushing my buttons and giving me plenty of food for thought. And it made me wonder...was Shields goading women into standing up for themselves? Or was she fed up with women writers being refused entry into exclusively male literary circles?

Other reviews and related post:
Reads from Men
AYA: the Secrets Come Out
The Curious Case of the Communist Jell-O Box (zine)

Essex County by Jeff Lemire

Paul Goes Fishing by Michel Rabagliati
Some Thoughts on Canada Reads
Expozine's Broken Pencil
Make Me A Woman by Vanessa Davis
Death of the Liberal Class by Chris Hedges
Tattoos on the Heart by Gregory Boyle

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The Experimental Launch & Lava Lamp

The Experimental Launch & Lava Lamp

Lava Lamp

La la la! What a happy way to start. Our daughter is still on holidays this week and has been stubbornly focused on making a lava lamp, which was an experiment in a science book (La Science s'éclate de Yannick Bergeron) she received for Christmas. I must admit. The DIY lamp was cool, so I thought that I'd share it with you.

(See experiment below.)







The Day's Visual Picks (www.cronos4.tv)

Spousal unit and I have also been busy with an experiment of our own, a new blog, The Day's Visual Picks, which will be launched on Sunday, January 9. Because there are so many written blogs out there, we thought that people might be tired of reading and just want to see something new and exciting. Don't worry! This blog will continue.

Illustration by Jack Dylan

We share a lot of common interests in art, but we both have specific areas that interest us individually. I'll be taking my environmental interest with me to our new viz blog to find artists who use recycled materials and raise awareness about environmental issues in addition to finding visual art created by women because, as you are all aware, women are underrepresented in the arts. I'll also have my eyes peeled to feature local artists, both male and female. If you see anything of interest, please drop us a line.

The new site looks great, and our traffic has increased by 900% since January 1. Anyone subscribing by e-mail will have a chance to win a commissioned concert announcement for Arcade Fire by Jack Dylan.



Other Groovy Experiment: the Lava Lamp

Material

a can opener
large coffee tin
metal scissors
electric lamp with a flexible neck with a 40W bulb
electrical tape
a crate or bin with holes (we used a tangerine box)
aluminum plate
1 litre clear glass bottle
a bottle of baby oil
water
food colouring (we chose red)
antacid tablets

Process
1. Remove the bottom of the coffee can with a can opener.
2. With the metal scissors, cut a hole in the side of the coffee can that is big enough to accommodate the lamp neck and put the electrical tape on the sharp edges.
3. Set the tangerine crate down. Place the lamp next to it. Bend the lamp neck backwards until it rests on the crate with the lamp pointing upwards. Place the can over the lamp head.
4. Place the aluminum pie plate over the coffee can. Take the scissors and poke holes in the plate for the light to shine through. Switch on the lamp.
5. Take the bottle. Fill the bottle three-quarters full with baby oil and the last quarter with water.
6. Add the food colouring.
7. Place the full bottle on the aluminum pie plate. You may have to make some more holes under the bottle so there is sufficient light shining through.
8. Add the antacid tablets.

Now, shut off the lights and watch the chemical reaction and experience the lava-like experience.

Yeah! Now view the film (1min 4secs)



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