Let’s begin. Cocktails and shopping go hand in hand, like cocktails and breakfast. But this happens only on special occasions, like WorldPride. In conjunction with In Toronto magazine, upscale retailer Holt Renfrew hosts an upper-crust get-together of like-minded men and women for a private shopping event. Though I am tempted by some divine deals on hangers, I’m more tempted by the crowd. Most, though, like Hoax Couture designers Jim Searle and Chris Tyrell, are married. But unlike my wallet, my morals are full, so I’m just window shopping.
Gays and marriage go together like twinks and text-message breakups. So attending the I Do at The Carlu gentlemen’s night is a perfect union. Congrats to Laurence and Michael, who officially tie the knot after 10 years together in front of a gathering of family, friends and people like me who have no idea who the heck they are. I shed a tear and then gulp back a beer. Unlike most weddings, this one comes with a professional drag hostess, Tynomi Banks, and a professional dance troupe, Marina Antoinette, who perform an entire story of a gay Renaissance king who entraps his wife by having his gay lover seduce her, tries her for adultery, then has her beheaded during an hour-long performance over several acts. Cruel, creative, genius. The story and the dancing.
These days chicks with dicks go together like fish with sticks. So Fit Primpin’s WorldPride party, with Vine sensation TS Madison, at 99 Sudbury is a delicious treat. Dancing in this space is a refreshing change, taking me back to my warehouse partying days. Dark, airy and unpolished interiors always put people in a more relaxed and often slutty mood. This is perfect for Madison’s performance as she belts out her beat-heavy tracks, including, “Is It On?” and “She Got a Dick,” alongside the House of Monroe dancers, in a skin-tight, white lace dress, which highlights her thick curves and big breasts. Unfortunately, we were not privy to her thick dick.
Sun and water go together like swimsuits and shrinkage. But like the Wonderbra, we gays know many tricks to get around this at Prism’s Aqua party. The sound is spectacular, the refreshing fountains and the addition of potted plants and greenery make Yonge-Dundas Square fittingly fierce. “Oh, I love Sofonda,” someone shouts behind me as the main show begins. That ain’t Sofonda, I correct. It’s Tynomi Banks. But as soon as I say that and look back to the stage, out pops Sofonda wearing an identical wig, similar boots and matching swim suit. Wait. Did they plan this? “We wanted to do a Beyoncé number together because everyone thinks we compete with one another and don’t like each other,” Sofonda tells me later. “We’re sisters. We love each other. So bam!”
Dogs and bones go hand in paw like hairy men in pink fun fur. Okay, maybe not. But “Furry,” a pink poodle of a man, certainly stands out from the crowd at Pitbull’s Gone Wild party at The Phoenix. The night before, they host a successful event at Liberty Grand, an underused gay party venue (the gays claim it’s just too far). Francis G, co-founder and cuddle collie, is giddy. But back in the Village, things get crazy. It’s like a sweaty, messy mass of meaty, manly men (and a few brave women) everywhere. The dance area becomes a fondle floor, and I’m forced to protect my goods from bad touches.
Big parties with big productions go together like minimal outfits on masculine men. Shirts? Who needs them? Pants? Did you lose them? Morals? Can’t find them. But look at your Pride arms. You’ve worked on them for a whole month? Impressive. But not as impressive as Prism’s La Leche (which, BTW, means milk and is also slang for semen) main show, starring Sofonda and a team of dancers outfitted in what appear to be white paper costumes controlling a silent army of life-sized i-Robot automatons. Coupled with the impressive lighting and LCD graphic screens, the visuals leave us milking our udders.
Closing parties and messiness go together like horny hellos and sad goodbyes. The Prism Revival party at Guvernment is full of these. The entire venue belongs to us. On this last night, we meet new people for the first time and party with weekend friends and lovers from all over the world one last time. We do whatever comes naturally to us, sometimes with the aid of liquid courage, powdered pride and pills of panache. The upper deck is beautiful, allowing us to dance in the cool air under the stars. Prism party architect Gairy Brown is relaxed. Perhaps relieved. Downstairs, steam rises from the dancefloor as we glisten and grope, grind and poke. As the sun comes up, the birds begin to chirp. The end has come, WorldPride is done. Time for cocktails with my breakfast.