My festival started off in style at the Passchendaele party at the Drake Hotel on Thursday night. You know you’re in for a good time when they hand you a flute of champagne as soon as you cross the threshold, and you are informed that sushi and shrimp are available at the raw bar.
After eating two plates of seafood while sipping bubbly and bemoaning the fact that my real life is nothing like this, I headed to the rooftop (bypassing a whole other spread of salted cured meats and artisinal cheeses).
On the roof, guests were treated to more free booze and a never-ending parade of bite-sized delights. My favorites were the steak tartare, mini hamburgers, fries with chipotle mayo and the baby lamb chops.
In no time, the patio was jam packed with the cast and assorted industry hangers-on. Since it was a work night, I had to pack it in early – a tear sliding down my cheek as I passed the ET Canada lounge, crossed to the other side of the velvet rope and hopped on the 504 streetcar to resume my real life.