Writers' Trust Gala Proves Reading is Sexy
Sofi Papamarko
The Maytag repairman may raise an argument, but we firmly believe that writing is the loneliest profession imaginable. Spending hours glued to a computer means having minimal contact with the outside world. Writers spend most of their waking hours alone. They often talk to themselves. Sometimes they talk to their dogs. And unless they’re trying to woo the local barista, there’s generally no need for them to wear anything more impressive than yoga pants and a salsa-stained hoodie (uh, not that we speak from experience…or anything).
Fortunately for an elite circle of this hermit-like profession, events like the Writers’ Trust Gala exist. Last night, lauded Canadian literati became veritable social butterflies and had the chance to showcase their excellent (if underused) senses of style.
Margaret Atwood: Reigning queen of Can-lit
“I’m wearing this very nice scarf which was given to me by a friend of mine, Georgia Nichols. She writes horoscopes. And I’m wearing this outfit that I’ve had for about twenty years that I bought in Los Angeles with my agent, Phoebe Larmore. I’m wearing some chintzy Chinatown earrings that cost about five bucks and this very nice shell necklace that I bought at an airport. That’s about it. I’m not going to go into the underwear.”
Sofi Papamarko
Claudia Dey with Lee Henderson: Playwright, author and columnist
“It is all vintage, as always-- and fit for a woman who is nearly four months pregnant. A silk slip from I Miss You on Ossington, black suede pumps from 69 Vintage on Queen Street West, Victorian pearls (silver) from what was once Melanie's Closet….” Dey’s elegant white evening gloves are from Cabaret. Pictured with her is author Lee Henderson, who is pretty much owning that Marzotto Lab suit.
Sofi Papamarko
Pasha Malla: Giller Prize nominee
While visiting his sister in India last winter, Malla decided he’d have a linen Nehru suit custom made. “We went from tailor to tailor to tailor and they were all very glamourous places. I just didn’t get a good vibe. I felt like I was going to get ripped off because I don’t speak any Indian languages. We finally saw this really junky place at the end of the street upstairs. We went in and the guy brought us tea…” The tailor’s family had been in the business for generations. Malla was sold. When he went to pick it up the next day, his suit wasn’t yet ready but the tailor later hand-delivered the suit to the restaurant Malla was dining at, four assistants in tow.
Sofi Papamarko
Andrew Pyper: Author of The Killing Circle
“I bought my tux (or dinner jacket, if you prefer) maybe six or seven years ago when, coincidentally, I had been invited to an earlier Writers Trust Gala. I was planning on renting some itchy tails when my men's fashion authority and friend, Russell Smith, suggested I buy a black suit of my own. He told me that, as I grew older and was invited to more fancy things, I'd save time and money owning my own. So I went uptown and bought a Hugo Boss tux that, I was told at the time, offered a ‘young man's cut.’ Not sure what that means, but so long as I can keep gravy off my pants and red wine off my shirt, I feel quite spiffy and slightly dangerous in it. A nerdy James Bond.”



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