In Which I Merge my Blogs (Or: The First One From the Other One)

A while ago, I abandoned this blog and took a break, before starting up a different one that better reflected where I'm at now. A lot has changed. I have a new career, I'm more than half done my first novel, I'm designing again and I'm about to launch two new businesses. My priority is EXIT 29. That designer consignment shop I launched and wrote about here? It has become an international fashion agency and it's what I spend most of my waking hours working on and thinking about.

The new blog, which is on wordpress, is off to an okay start, but I've come to realize that the journey I took to get to where I am matters and a lot of it is documented over here. I will therefore begin transferring posts from the other one (there aren't that many), here, where my main audience is and where it can merge with past efforts. You'll notice I've also transferred the new name over and so, welcome to The Fringe Report.

Here is post number one:

Unless we're talking a bloody caesar or, as of recently enough, a martini, I don't really drink hard liquor. When everyone yells, "Shots!" I  go on a pee break. That said, ever since I saw Ryan Gosling make that Old Fashioned for Emma Stone, in Crazy Stupid Love, I've been wanting to try one. I came close, at a fashion show in St-Henri, last year, where some beautiful hipster bartenders from Ludger had been invited to create and serve a signature cocktail created for the event. It had brandy in it. Or cognac? It might have had some whiskey in it. It was amber and there was a candied orange rind ringlet on its rim. It wasn't an Old Fashioned and, even if it had been, the setting was all wrong. Not having the option of Mr. Gosling preparing the drink for me at The Skyline Residence (which is now owned by Pharrell Williams, anyway), on a rainy night, with Doris Troy warbling in the background, I decided to ask my friend if he wanted to go out in search of the drink, after a particularly tasty ramen experience, at Misoya, yesterday (more on Montreal ramen in a few weeks!). We trudged over to Hurley's, where we found a quiet spot and settled into some super cozy leather armchairs, next to a stone wall. While the Irish band one room over readied themselves to play, I took the first sip of my very first Old Fashioned. It was bitter as all hell and I immediately began wishing I'd ordered a beer. After three or four more sips I actually did order a beer. But then, as the room we were in began to fill up, the music got louder, I relaxed into my seat and I got closer to the sugar at the bottom of the glass, my drink suddenly became quite tasty and, for the first time ever, I regretted ordering a pint of Newcastle. Verdict: I'm probably more excited than I should be that I can add another cocktail to my short list.

Anyhow, it's January 14th and, as good intentions begin to implode around me and New Year's resolutions are already being abandoned by some, I'm reminded of how much I think the tradition is bullshit. Firstly, my new year begins the day after my birthday and, second, I believe that if you really want to change something in your life, you should just go ahead and do it. That said, for the first time in many years, I find myself striving for newness and setting goals at the same time as everyone else and it's odd. The plan had been for the kids and I to move to Vancouver, next summer and then, right before Christmas, my son declared that he no longer wishes to leave Montreal. I can't live across the country from my son yet and so we're all staying put. At first, there was shock. Just once, I allowed myself to vent at my kids, expressing my frustration at their lack of lust for life or some such nonsense (try having this conversation with two teenagers who are neck-deep in their "Uh. Yeah. No." phase). With that out of my system, I wallowed. I may have gone through a few bottles of wine during this period. And then, as I usually do, I made a conscious decision to change my mood and to spring into action. This, right here, is part of that.

I've been blogging for a few years now but, at some point, I fell into a rut and the generic fashion dribble I was getting paid to write for other blogs began to make its way into my personal blog. Get a media pass, go to the fashion show, take notes, drink some free pinot grigio, take funnier notes, text dry but apparently hilarious comments to my daughter, get on a bus and head back home and take my heels off exactly where they need to be for me to inevitably trip over them in the morning, sleep, get up, trip on heels, write a roundup, send it in and repeat. I did go to some fundraisers and shows that blew my mind and had me typing at warp speed upon my return home but those were rare and, after more than a year of doing the Montreal fashion circuit, I was burnt out from seeing all of the same clothing and all of the same people and hearing all of the same music. It made me abandon my style guides and personal pieces altogether and I haven't felt like picking it back up until recently. Well, not all of that but the blogging.

I know who I was writing for but I felt like I wasn't the one writing for them. I'm just not that guy and, well, that's not who I want to write for. I'm a punker and a goth and a geek and a loud-mouth and a storyteller and a designer and a entrepreneur and someone who is the product of having grown up within various sub cultures where it wasn't cool to like mainstream shit and is now living in a world where everything that was cool and special and oh-so-underground is now mainstream. And so, I have Joe Strummer and Maila Nurmi and Bela Lugosi and Joy Division on my walls and the kids and I love punk rock and some metal and all classic rock and ska and Star Trek and Dr. Who and I have a bunch of tattoos and I shave parts of my head on a whim but I love wine tasting and decor and high fashion and going to the Met and plating my food. That's the nutshell version and, if you're interested in the details, by all means, read on...

Posted in: creative writing,fashion,fashion life,foodie,hurley's irish pub,lifestyle blog,montreal,new beginnings,old fashioned,punk rock,writer