It's impossible for me to think of the ever-stylish Montreal without thinking of its most stylin' ambassador, Mr. Cohen. I mean, the guy is not young yet he manages to project a forceful, craggy, downtrodden vitality I am so down with.
Check out the silhouette:
Or, perhaps, stare into the eyes of a poet:
One of my many unrealized fantasies involves a fantastic dinner chez Cohen - a surfeit of red wine, super tunes, warm breeze floating over a cantilevered balcony (verdantly secluded). I'd love to know what it was like for him, growing up in Montreal in the 40s and 50s, about his time in NY, the impetus for his greatest work. Of course there would be awesome sex. (I know he's old but he's virile!) This is not one of those PG fantasies. How else could one truly know this man?
Don't worry. My husband and I have an arrangement. Should the opportunity arise, I get to get it on with Leonard Cohen. And, if the stars align, he can do (the far more vapid, if perkier) Kate Beckinsale. I say, good luck to us both :-) He concurs.
PS: The Thoughtful Dresser did an eerily similar post a couple of days ago. Mine was preposted so I wonder if we could have written about this (reasonably unusual) fashion blog subject at the same time. Wouldn't that be weird?