I found myself lingering, watching: there was something undeniably sexy about this Moores ad come to life.Why was a shirt and tie (and a well-fitted suit, mind you) suddenly such a turn-on? I checked myself as I sat on my bike with my clipped-up pant cuffs, a young lady of twentysomething, gallivanting around town in a sailor-boy black and white striped shirt (with boat neck). Luckily, no; it was just that the put-together look suggested something. Everyone knows that Montreal is a different kind of place.Police say he often arrived for dates with stubble on his face, wearing pale jeans and white shoes.
There is a sense of directionless dread, a tint of sadness, in people who wake up and don’t know what to do with themselves.
In her new robin’s-egg-blue fitted raincoat, she could rival Audrey Hepburn. Though they can easily date a French man, many English girls end up with an anglo boyfriend because they want someone who gets their jokes. They saw what their fathers did and decided it’s not for them.
The problem is, a lot of the English-speaking boys in Montreal are chronically unemployed drifters. The boho boy wears his hair a little long; he has a retro record player at home. He will wear a shirt and tie, but only as an ironic fashion statement--never to work, only to play. Who wants to work at an insurance company for thirty years?
They make telemarketing calls or work in the kitchen at Pistol to pay the rent, which is low anyway and controlled by the Régie du Logement.
Montreal is teeming with cool, interesting people--people with more joie de vivre than you can shake a stick at.