I went clothes shopping on Saturday. N.I.G.H.T.M.A.R.E Sometimes I think I really am a man as I detest clothes shopping. How on earth can trying on clothes be considered fun or therapy. You spend half an hour picking out something to try on, another 15 minutes trying to work out your size, give up and bring in all sizes with you only for the Power Hound at the changing room door inform you that you can only bring in 4 items to which you throw an almighty strop, bring in the 4 items, try them on, realise you have vastly underestimated what size you are, force the items on anyway, penguin waddle your way out to the Hound with vast quantities of flesh on show to get the other 4, waddle back in fearing death by lack of oxygen if you don't get the tighties off soon, try on the other 4 and almost drown in the sea of material, consider the fact that no one makes clothes in your size, give up, leave the store, get a coffee and sit staring with hatred at anyone that has correctly fitted clothing on themselves.

However, the Gap came up trumps for me. The changing room goon was rather ungoon like, more gay like and took great joy in dressing me, flitting from changing room to floor in quite the bouncy fashion. I think he was a little disappointed that I only purchased one item. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I only wanted one pair of pants not the entire Fall collection.

I ventured to the swanky Yorkville area of Toronto. The closest I got to Versace jeans was leaving my breath mark on their very clean window. Not anymore it ain't.