by Louisa Cohen

Digging though my to-be-dry-cleaned pile and my mom’s shmancy hand me downs, I scrape together an outfit that is somewhat acceptable for where I am going. I’ll describe my ensemble as high-waisted brushed silk olive green clown pants and a backless black top I bought years ago in Montreal, paired with whichever black heels had not been chewed up by my dog – a dip into industrial strength concealer and a harried sweep of bronzer, and I rush out the door.

My cabbie nearly kills a gaggle of Canucks fans as he takes the worst route possible, sending me lurching forward – not fun, especially since my head still throbs from last nights gaiety. I sniff. I still smell a little like the ear ointment that I got from the vet to use on my puppy Marshall (my reason for being so late). Oh well, I’ll say its my new Egyptian musk.

Breathe. I arrive.

Craning my neck upwards out of the cab window – I already feel my stomach take a lurch. Looking up, waaaaaay up, to where I am going-the penthouse of Shangri La, Vancouver’s newest, most luxurious, and not to mention tallest hotel and resort, catering to the cities well heeled and ‘la di da’ visitors.
James Walt, head chef at ARAXI in Whistler, BC, has just published a new cookbook – titled after the glorious restaurant – and this is the launch party. I walk in trying to look confident as I wade through the glitzy Yaletown crowd. Even though this ain’t Hollywood, these folk always seem to act otherwise. Ah well.

Before I even sip my glass of award winning Osoyoos Red, my mind already becomes a little drunk on the pomp and pageantry of this grandiose tower. 7:01 – just in time for the sunset. I look out at the city below, the water, the mountains and the sun, which tonight is a fiery blood orange…okay, maybe I do finally get this kind of architecture.

When the outside world turned more pinot noir, I settled into my surroundings and checked out the crowd. CTV’s svelte Colleen Kristy was taking some snaps of the snacks for her foodie blog, and Vancouver’s restaurateur, and TopTable proprietor, Jack Evrensel was looking most debonair. The man of the hour, James Walt, was busy prepping away, intermittently signing books for a satisfied crowd.

Sipping my third glass of wine, I nibbled on honey meringues topped with raspberries, pink macaroons, hand made chocolate, and apple compote cheesecake – my cheeks began to pink. The crowed petered out, books in hand, and so it was time to go…and on a sugar cloud I floated…down, down, down, down…I had landed back on earth. La la land was just upstairs – but I was back on Georgia street again, hailing a taxi, and heading home to Mount Pleasant…

As my patent heels (still stiff from laying dormant) sunk into the wet grass while taking Marshall for his evening walk, music filled the air and swelled up into my ears. A flock of Main Street hipsters riding bicycles a la boom boxes flew by as if securing the neighborhood for night time, making sure all was good in the hood before darkness would fall. Still obviously cheery from the vino, I waved and smiled at the nodding hairy heads scooting past, communication of my thanks for the brief symphony of sound…

I thought of Shangri La as I dosed of in my bed, in my apartment just slightly above ground level, and thought…there’s no place like home.

http://www.dmpibooks.com/book/araxi
http://www.shangri-la.com/en/property/vancouver/shangrila
http://www.araxi.com/