So, what happened on the thirteenth floor? A seven hundred pound cow hung on a spit above a raging fire while ladies in feather dresses cawed for slabs of beef.  “JUST PUSH THEM OUT OF THE WAY!” The bankers shouted, as they stampeded through the stuffed and turbulent front entrance.
“HOLD MY HAND!” I cried to my photographer, “WE MAY NOT MAKE IT THROUGH TOGETHER!!” Like, how many tickets were sold for this art party? It was an event that sat in a vulnerable space between heaven and hell, an area we are cautioned about but excited to explore.

Once inside,  I was eager to bust a move in the blue laser room, that is until I ran towards the light and realised it was actually taut florescent wire. Partygoers pointed and laughed as I unhooked my mouth from the glowing cord. In another room, a dozen fridges were partially illuminated, begging guests to open. Unlike Peewee’s Playhouse, these fridges contained bags and bags of Popchips. That was an art installation, but the woman in a white dress, hovering on top of a white chair with a blood-stained behind was not, in fact, a curated art piece. Got it? Popchips were art and period stain was unsolicited behaviour.

Yes, it was a night for the beautiful people, but beware, the beautiful people can get ugly if they are thirsty enough. Seeking refuge, I ran to a wooden box in a dark corner. It was like a Scandinavian sauna with towels for the taking, but no real heat. For a moment I thought, what if we were all stranded on this thirteenth floor forever? Like LOST? I wanted to piss on the room to claim it as MINE. But I’m not a dog and perhaps that kind of art isn’t what they want. That said, I did overhear this: “Do you know her work, it’s c.r.a.z.y! She makes art out of her own feces.”

The best time was had leaning on the back staircase, staring at the outfits on parade. The Grid’s Briony Smith looked gladiatoricious in Evan Biddell, Sarah Nicole Prickett was stunning in Jeremy Laing, Caitlin Agnew wowed all in an H&M maxi and party girl April Wozny was a head to toe lace tease. From the art department, Daniel Faria was his usual fresh faced perfect self, Jessica Rose was Chrissie Hynde-turned-Blondie, Bruno Billio looked dapper  bowed in royal blue and Zeesy Powers rocked a plaid cape with a pageboy cut. Although beat us to it, we gotta second that best dressed award definitely goes to iwantigot‘s Anita Clarke, who wore a Mark Fast bodysuit that would make Catwoman hiss with jealousy. Usual suspects aside, the party was packed with hot shit fashion. 

Unlike two years ago, I did not wear a paper bagbut opted for a super simple (boring) gray t-shirt dress. With glistening Jenny Bird shoulder sweepers and some glam #conairpowerhair I was able to doll up and briefly escape the real world for a night on the thirteenth floor. 

~ Jen McNeely

Photos by @BeccaLemire

(click the thumbnails for larger photos)


We dig you lady.


Awwwww. They had a good time.

March Thuet and Biana Zorich pose with the beef.


Amy Wood went to Dollarama so she could put a bird on it. Her hair that is.

Ooh, a wizardy magic man.

Shedoesthecity’s Jen McNeely with Drake Hotel owner, Jeff Stober.

Christina Walters of Rock-it Promotions

Wires not lasers; I learned that the hard way.

It’s like Zara Phillips meets Gaga. We approve.

Designers Kirk Pickersgill and Stephen Wong of Greta Constantine.

Please dance around the maypole with us.

Briony Smith busting out in Evan Biddell

Alexa Bothwell and Kelly Dowd.

Well, if Frankie says so….

Abigail Van Den Broek and Michelle Easton of Rock-it Promotions

Hottest babes ever.

Hot damn! Anita Clarke and April Wozny bring the sexy. and Amy Wood.

The ever so elegant Paige Dzenis in a Camilla and Marc dress from Rent, Frock & Repeat.

The stunning Sarah Nicole Prickett in Jeremy Laing.

White blazer on the left was "Made by Mom." We know b/c he showed us the label.