Source: Toronto Life, December 1984.
It was the morning after the night before. She couldn’t remember much, other than it had been one heck of a New Year’s party. Stumbling onto the streets of Yorkville, she found herself clad in a stunning blue, grey, and black number, dimly recalling how she borrowed the snowflake-inspired couture from the hostess after an impulsive jump into the hot tub. Though her head felt like a football tossed around during the bowl games she would watch with her housemates later that afternoon, she was determined to make an impression in her stylish discovery, if only to hail a cab home. Some would say she was trying to present the image of a pouty model to the world; she would say she was holding her aching head before Advil could come to the rescue.