Diner en Blanc popped up in Toronto last night. Now in its fifth year, the annual white party was bigger than ever with a reported 2,300 people in attendance.
Having covered this event three out of five times now, I feel like I've finally figured this thing out.
Firstly, the only time I've ever liked the location was when it was in a parking lot — of course, positioning the secret location north of the Toronto Life office and south of NOW’s was either stupid or brilliant. And yes, I remember the resounding complaints: “it wasn't sophisticated enough,” “port-a-potties,” “wah.” But the organizers importing this annual tradition by way of Paris obviously didn't realize that complaining is just our schtick.
The best part of the parking lot — nay, the best part of this whole event isn’t actually attending. The best part is stumbling upon it while on foot, rolling past it on the streetcar, or coming across the spectacle of white-clad party goers in the subway or on a street corner.
This year’s event took place in front of The Power Plant, between the CN Tower and our pristine waterfront. It was beautiful… and I hated it.
Previous years at Fort York and Ontario Place have all seemed equally unexciting to me. They've been too sterile, too far removed, and just generally too predictable. I liked the juxtaposition of the elegant all-white party in grittier surroundings. Had the party been hosted in the underpass of the Gardiner I would have been thrilled.
Of course, in “no fun Toronto” this will likely never happen. The challenges of organizing an event of this scale complete with permits to serve liquor are no doubt fraught with red tape.
Other media outlets have slammed Diner en Blanc as “pretentious,” “eye roll inducing,” and “stupidly snobbish” — and to some extent they're right. I sure did witness an element of unpleasant elitism, especially from the cordoned-off media lounge that doubled as a VIP reception.
I breathed a sigh of relief when the VIPs were finally ushered off to their banquet tables which were assembled and dressed for them, then attended by a parade of waitrons who poured wine and catered a multi-course menu for these “elite.” Seeing this class divide as other participants queued up for their bagged suppers was shades of Jennifer Rubell's Appetite for Excess all over again — only here there wasn't an ounce of irony.
That is not to say this event is a total write off. Anyone in attendance could easily identify the two groups of people that truly embodied the creativity and spirit of togetherness of Diner en Blanc as intended.
There are the fashionistas. Those who obviously relish the chance to show off their glistening tans and eccentric, yet monotone, attire.
Then there are the foodies. Those who took great care to pack picnics, print menus, and dress the table with tiered platters of cheese and baguettes, chilled lobster and pretty desserts to share with their friends.
This is an event that requires commitment and effort to reap the rewards. Those that just buy their way in are missing the whole point.
