When I asked the young concierge how the hipsters in Montreal might be spending their Sunday afternoon, he suggested that we Bixi (that's a contraction of bicycle and taxi) across the St. Lawrence River to the Piknic Electronik at Parc Jean Drapeau. If you're of a certain age, you'll remember that was the site of Expo '67.
To get to the dance party, you had to pass a municipal swimming pool. It even had a gay section!
Tom and I took each other's pictures with the famous dome in the background. I bought the Miles Davis t-shirt I'm wearing the day before at a terrific exhibit at the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts.
The setting couldn't have been prettier with the Montreal skyline in the distance. The dance party itself took place on a small plaza with some sculpture that still looked to the future. That yellow & blue tent in the background is the home of Cirque de Soleil.
The vibe at the party was very chill with an easy mixture of race, sexuality and age. There aren't many places you can find that combination. Plus the music was terrific. But instead of dancing I decided to channel Bill Cunningham and take as many photos as I dared without being obnoxious. Most people do enjoy having their picture taken when they're having a wonderful time. Do you think these two share a hair stylist?
The gay boys do love their tats.
Kids were welcome, too!
I didn't spot any trends other than dressing colorfully and for comfort among the women in the crowd. How fab is the animal print on punk Heidi's sunglasses?
I wanted these two gals to be my best friends. Let's call them Fierce.
And Joyous.
I crushed on this guy. He reminds me of a young Jean Paul Belmondo.
Video gives you a better sense of the scene because the people were constantly moving.
And if you got tired, you could always rest your dancing feet in a nearby meadow.
We got a slight buzz on by ordering several overpriced glasses of sangria, but healthy blended beverages were available, too. I loved this mixologist.
On our way out, two goofballs asked if we would recycle our wristbands. Apparently they couldn't afford the $10 entrance fee. We obliged.
Naturally we ended up on St. Catherine Street, not for the first time of our visit. Even the red mannequins were handsome and buff.
