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May. 16th, 2005 12:48 amOnce again, I keep meaning to update but get sidetracked... Since it's too late and I'm too tired to come up with anything really meaningful, here's what I did this weekend.
Friday, after the usual soccer game, G and I took in Het Nationale Ballet at the NAC. There were four numbers, if you will. First, a piece called In Light and Shadow, the first part of which was a breathtaking pas de deux. Next was a half hour work set to Four Schumann Pieces, which had very interesting choreography. And I do mean interesting, it's not that I have nothing to say about it. Unfortunately, though the dancers were on the whole almost technically flawless, a few of the dancers seemed off-beat in this one. At times I knew they were meant to be, but at others it was a matter of a dancer or two being slightly ahead or behind all the others. The third piece was Duet, a very short, incredibly romantic duet, as the name would have it. A couple new to love, falling head over heels and marvelling in each other, danced to a gorgeous piano piece (Wagner's Isolde's Liebestod). And last, but not least, Carmen, brilliantly danced with a sizzling Carmen.
Yesterday I took Tristan to Montreal for a day of shopping. All in all, he turned out to be a rather good shopping partner, if you ignore the fact that he hasn't quite mastered the art of picking out more that one item at a time to try on. In one store, he took a t-shirt to the change room, then wandered back out, picked something else, tried that on, then asked the salesgirl if they had a different size/colour/sleeve length, then tried something else one, etc. etc. etc. If nothing else, I at least convinced him to buy a linen shirt, though he got black instead of the pale blue I was going for. Still, it wasn't all dark, he got a t-shirt of as bright an emerald green as I could have wished for. We walked along St-Catherine, trying to dodge the rain, crossing against the lights whenever we could (you know, when in Rome...). We ended up at Holt Renfrew, because despite my best efforts, my brother is still a label whore. *sigh* He didn't get anything, though, and my first time ever in such a snobby store didn't impress me much. Sure, all the other customers were dripping with cash, but being rich sadly doesn't confer good taste. I hope all those older ladies with the chunky highlights and ugly purses are listnening: just because it's Chanel doesn't mean it's pretty. It's still big and quilted pink plastic the colour of Pepto-Bismol.
Staying up until 2:30 Friday night when I had to get up at 6 the next morning wasn't for naught, as I wore my own creation to Sylvie's wedding last night. The pattern was fairly simple but I had to take in the sides an awful lot for it to look right on me. Since it's bias-cut, I imagine that if I'd left it on a hanger for a few days it would have sorted itself out, but I didn't have that kind of time. Besides, it looks fine on me now.
And now, good night.
Friday, after the usual soccer game, G and I took in Het Nationale Ballet at the NAC. There were four numbers, if you will. First, a piece called In Light and Shadow, the first part of which was a breathtaking pas de deux. Next was a half hour work set to Four Schumann Pieces, which had very interesting choreography. And I do mean interesting, it's not that I have nothing to say about it. Unfortunately, though the dancers were on the whole almost technically flawless, a few of the dancers seemed off-beat in this one. At times I knew they were meant to be, but at others it was a matter of a dancer or two being slightly ahead or behind all the others. The third piece was Duet, a very short, incredibly romantic duet, as the name would have it. A couple new to love, falling head over heels and marvelling in each other, danced to a gorgeous piano piece (Wagner's Isolde's Liebestod). And last, but not least, Carmen, brilliantly danced with a sizzling Carmen.
Yesterday I took Tristan to Montreal for a day of shopping. All in all, he turned out to be a rather good shopping partner, if you ignore the fact that he hasn't quite mastered the art of picking out more that one item at a time to try on. In one store, he took a t-shirt to the change room, then wandered back out, picked something else, tried that on, then asked the salesgirl if they had a different size/colour/sleeve length, then tried something else one, etc. etc. etc. If nothing else, I at least convinced him to buy a linen shirt, though he got black instead of the pale blue I was going for. Still, it wasn't all dark, he got a t-shirt of as bright an emerald green as I could have wished for. We walked along St-Catherine, trying to dodge the rain, crossing against the lights whenever we could (you know, when in Rome...). We ended up at Holt Renfrew, because despite my best efforts, my brother is still a label whore. *sigh* He didn't get anything, though, and my first time ever in such a snobby store didn't impress me much. Sure, all the other customers were dripping with cash, but being rich sadly doesn't confer good taste. I hope all those older ladies with the chunky highlights and ugly purses are listnening: just because it's Chanel doesn't mean it's pretty. It's still big and quilted pink plastic the colour of Pepto-Bismol.
Staying up until 2:30 Friday night when I had to get up at 6 the next morning wasn't for naught, as I wore my own creation to Sylvie's wedding last night. The pattern was fairly simple but I had to take in the sides an awful lot for it to look right on me. Since it's bias-cut, I imagine that if I'd left it on a hanger for a few days it would have sorted itself out, but I didn't have that kind of time. Besides, it looks fine on me now.
And now, good night.
