Folks, when they said “rock the ball” they didn’t mean rip off your clothes and do a running leap into a frigid pool. (Wait for it.)
Operanation VII: Cinderella, Rock the Ball called for not just an outfit, but a dramatic entrance. A crescendo if you will: Feathers! Monocle! Majestic cape! Cleavage! Puckered red lips! Mozart wig! Diamond encrusted shoes! Tutu?
After fussing through our closet, unraveling it down the hall and across three rooms, it was finally decided to don a mask. Mwah-ha-ha-ha! (Sorry, nothing too exciting here.) That decision took an hour and a half of mirror posing whilst listening to Le nozze di Figaro, dangling grapes, swirling red wine and trying to make a bra out of stockings. Needless to say, in true Cinderella form, we arrived late to the ball. But just in time.
Taking the stage was Broken Social Scene alongside Canadian Opera Company ensemble stars Wallis Giunta and Ambur Braid. Eager to document the performance, we politely asked to squeeze in front for a photo but got viciously barked at by an angry step sister. After awkwardly realising we knew one another, hissing was exchanged for hello. Eeeeee…good thing we had the mask on!
As for the indie/opera mash-up between the sopranos and Toronto’s most loved band….OHMYGAWD. Better than sex after a supermarket fight. Better than when you wake up on a Saturday, think it’s Friday, and then realize it’s actually Saturday. Oh lordy, it was breathtaking. When Giunta and Braid hit the high notes of Magic Flute’s Queen of the Night Aria, we tingled. There hasn’t been as good a pairing since someone turned us on to banana and Nutella sandwiches back in ’88.
Once that was finished we moseyed over to hang by the baron of beef station and coo about how intoxicated we were by the music, marveled at the design of the stupendous Four Seasons Centre, and exchanged frivolous niceties with people whose names we forgot. Again, awkward.
As it was the Friday of Halloween weekend, some guests wore costumes. Of course, there were a few buffoon type pricks who came over and felt the need to point at our face and ask, “WHY ARE YOU WEARING A MASK???” Um – ’cause we feel like it you F*CK!
Just after midnight, the raffle prizes were drawn. We can’t recall who won the Bulgari watch but when it was announced that the Holt Renfrew Shopping Spree was for $2900, every woman in the room squealed. When the winner’s name was called, we all ran to her like she was Jesus. We even turned to her and demanded, “Let’s see!” Why did we ask that? It’s a piece of paper. Ah geez, we can dream right?
The glossy program told us to “Head over to the after-party on the Thompson Hotel rooftop.” So after some messy grinding to Come On Eileen, party-goers stumbled south and were met with quite the scene. Taking inspiration from Burt Lancaster in The Swimmer, a drunk artist, by the name of Harley Valentine, stripped off all his clothes and did a running cannon ball leap into the cascading pool. Apparently, you aren’t supposed to derobe and splash around at 2AM in late October. Valentine was quickly escorted out, in his soaking undies, down the elevator, through the hotel lobby and kicked to the curb. OH MY! Wouldn’t you have loved to see this shit go down? You’re in luck – we have a video, and only four people have seen it thus far.
We think Mozart would approve.