FASHION Magazine

Last weekend, for a change of pace from TIFF-related line ups and over-crowded after parties, the Society hosted its 2nd Annual Society Cup alongside Hendrick’s Gin, hosted by the Beckerman sisters, Caillianne and Samantha, of the fashion blog Beckerman Bite Plate. The girls—who brought mom and dad out to join in the revelry—wore matching top hats and DIY safety pin–studded vests, and acted as ringmasters over the courtyard of Hart House, which was sectioned off into various game spaces for bocce, badminton, croquet, and three-legged races.

To lure the stars in town for TIFF, Toronto-based PR agency NKPR held a packed-to-the-chic-gills IT Lounge. The fashionable and free were on offer up during the fest, so the most important question can now be answered: Who stopped by?

Visitors for the most part held Canadian passports, with a few internationals getting their swag visa stamped. Those spotted included: Keshia Chanté, Howie D, Taryn Manning, Russell Peters, Paul Haggis, Dustin Milligan, Dean McDermott, Billy Boyd, Lauren Lee Smith, and many more from the world’s of television, film and music.

A few nights this week, industry folk turned their attention from TIFF to the stage. The music stage that is. For the second year in a row, the Festival Music House set up shop at the Mod Club to host performances by young and up and coming Canadian musicians. This year, acts performing included K’NAAN, Sam Roberts Band, Rural Alberta Advantage, Lights, Hey Rosetta!, and the recently Rolling Stone-crowned it-band, The Sheepdogs. The music was loud, the crowd was high energy, and the drinks—like at any good party—were free. Other than the homegrown talent themselves, Geoffrey Rush and Tommie-Amber Pirie were the only celeb spottings throughout the three nights. Given stars like RPatz’s proclivities for dive music bars like the Horseshoe, we’re crossing our fingers for some megawattage next time around.

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On Tuesday night, Interview, a.k.a. one of New York’s definitively coolest mags, threw down with home-grown megabrand Joe Fresh atop the Spoke Club to celebrate the film “Like Crazy,” alongside its rising stars Felicity Jones (we’ve heard her referred to as the next Carey Mulligan) and Anton Yelchin. Everything was orange-y hued (including the Negroni), which is probably why Jessica Chastain showed up. Or maybe it was to engage in a ginge showdown with also-stunningly-tressed PR gal Alison Lawler-Dean. Despite the slight chill in the air, the patio was packed with minglers, including the inimitable power couple Joe Mimran and Kimberley Newport-Mimran.

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A BMW, a neon-orange Thomas Sabo string charm bracelet, and a ring of the buzzer got us into Goodnight this past weekend. It was there that New York haute hotel the Gansevoort had set up shop for late night TIFF after parties each night. Past the entrance pretenses, the private back-alley club offered its usual back-alley type of fun, only this time tricked out with the likes of Jon Hamm, Hugh Laurie, Leighton Meester, and Alia Shawkat a.k.a. Arrested Development’s Maeby Fünke (as soon as we heard she was there, we seriously gunned it, but alas, she had already left. “Marry me!” is all we wanted to say.) Possibly the most fun parties of the week (and that’s saying a lot, given that virtually every soiree has been gangbusters), our favourite part of the evening(s) was frequenting the graffitied-up wall in the alleyway to pose for impromptu photo shoots and pretend we were in a music video.

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Aside from Monday night’s double-whammy Madonna dinner and celeb-filled after party at the Soho House, AMC/Nikki Beach/La Perla threw a boudoir-themed party atop the TIFF Lightbox at La Terrasse. (Bizarre semi-celeb sighting of the night: on our ascent to the swank rooftop terrace, the Trailer Park Boys tumbled out of the elevator—they were dressed, strangely, as racecar drivers.) Once inside, partygoers took endless iPhone shots of the astounding view (you can see all the way down King Street) and lounged on wicker couches on the gladiator arena–steep steps of the venue to watch a parade of La Perla lingerie models adorned in Birks jewels trot by. Guests, however, were not pleased by the cash bar situation. “What?!” gasped one attendee in an immaculate suit. “This isn’t open bar?” The surprisingly low AMC talent quotient (read: no Hamm sightings) was also on everyone’s lips. We did, however, catch a glimpse of Jordan Clark, Sunday’s barely legal and oh-so-gorgeous redheaded winner of So You Think You Can Dance Canada, nervously gulping down a pink highball, and fellow ginge Glenn Baxter stalking the crowd. Also spotted: a super-sunned Ben Mulroney and Ennis Esmer from The Listener on CTV.

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The tagline on next year’s Grey Goose Soho House invites should seriously read: “Four nights, four million celebs,” because it’s not normal how many are inside this place at one point on any given night. Last night, just as Madonna’s W.E. dinner was clearing out, we moseyed on over to catch a glimpse of our maker but, alas, she had slipped away. It quickly became apparent, though, that one Material Girl lost meant a million teenage heartthrobs gained. Or, should we say, a million teenage heartthrobs interacting with each other. In one corner, Adam Brody and Chace Crawford were chatting, most certainly trading notes about how to be a Josh Schwartz–moulded babe. In the next (or rather, upstairs), Justin Long and Michael Fassbender were busy at the ping-pong tables. As we mentioned earlier, Fassbender should probably stick to his day job, since his entire game consisted of running back and forth to catch his balls. (One landed near my foot. He touched it. And then apologized.) Channing Tatum was there somewhere too, but we didn’t spot him, or his dance moves. Back downstairs, Gerard Butler chatted with several, several ladies, one of who was Olivia Wilde in a body-hugging mega-sexy black dress. Peppered in among the youngsters, former heartthrobs (still, kinda?) Ralph Fiennes and Val Kilmer worked the room. They both have lots of hair at the moment.

The world’s biggest, and perhaps bravest, pop star stormed Roy Thomson Hall last night for the premiere of W.E., a film she directed and co-wrote. The love story of Wallis Simpson and the Prince of Wales, with a parallel tale of a Wallis-obsessed doctor’s wife, is Madonna’s first feature effort, a career move that film critics have not taken kindly to. I found W.E. to be entertaining, stylish, and fun, and I admire Madonna for holding her Garren-coiffed head high amid the barbs. After a private meeting, screening, and invitation to join her at her table for dinner, here are some other things I learned:

There were five or so things we loved about the third annual Cinema Against Aids gala, held Sunday night at The Carlu. And one we didn’t. Here goes:

The Grey Goose Soho House hosted all the A-listers again last night for the third night in a row as the casts from Albert Nobbs, Your Sister’s Sister, and The Deep Blue Sea stopped by throughout the night. A sans-Daniel Craig Rachel Weisz looked insanely gorgeous in a floor-length grey and black gown, Emily Blunt sat on Ewan McGregor‘s lap while Olivia Wilde and director Paul Haggis talked about their matching leather jackets. (We made that up, we didn’t hear them, but they had matching jackets.)

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After the Melancholia party at Hugo Boss, we moseyed on over to Scarpetta at the Thompson Hotel for the Vanity Fair party, hoping to calm our Skarsgård-induced heart palpitations. Well, turns out that they actually increased; we spotted the vamp Viking right as we walked in! To boot, the Skars was embracing a one Juliette Lewis. Old friends? We hope something far more salacious. (We had a whole story going, but would rather not share.) The soiree, officially billed as the Vanity Fair/(Belvedere) RED/Fox Searchlight party, hosted the casts of The Descendants and Martha Marcy May Marlene a.k.a. George Clooney, Elizabeth Olsen, Hugh Dancy, and Sarah Paulson. James Franco was there too, sporting a patchy beard, lumpy sweater, and plenty of grimy sex appeal. (Yeah, we know you’re with us.) Also on hand? A buffet table of delicious finger foods that we’re pretty sure no one was touching except for us.

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If you’ve been reading this site so far at all, you’ll know that we’re big fans of a one vamp Viking, Eric Northman aka. Alexander Skarsgård. Well guess what kids, we met him! In the flesh! The living flesh! Not the dead kind from TV! At last night’s Hugo Boss and GQ party for Melancholia, to be exact. Alongside Kirsten Dunst in her beauty of a ‘40s-inspired, polka-dot blouse and white skirt, the Skars infused the room with so much Swedish hotness, it was almost too much to take. After much giddy giggling, we (Holt Renfrew’s Jennifer Daubney and I) got the courage to let ourselves be introduced. Not like there was a point, since the two of us could barely say anything beyond “Big fans!” Then, naturally, we followed him out to the patio where we stole peeks of his behind. TMI?

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