Blog of a not-so Social Gal

Once upon a time, a very lucky girl (aka: me) got invited to a very fabulous party.

The raison-d'être for the party was the launch of the third edition of the Diary of a Social Gal magazine. Described as "part diary and part social/lifestyle/fashion port," the magazine (and website) are ALL editor extraordinaire Jenn Campbell's creation.

And boy oh boy does she know how to throw a party! 

Not to mention the fact that she, along with yours truly, is dying for "a night out with Chelsea Handler."

But I digress.  

Held at the Ritz-Carlton on hump day, the party featured live music, salt-baked fish and more beautiful people than you can shake a stick at. 

I mention the salt-baked fish not in jest but because I really enjoyed it. Thanks Milos!
 
Plus the Moët. Ahhh the Moët!

The raison-d'être for my being invited to such a fabulous party was my previously mentioned luck. The oh-so-lovely Olivia (aka: Dirty Martini) asked me to go along as her date because she knows of my writing (and fashion) related aspirations.

And my love of Moët.  

After work, and pre-party,I made my way to Indigo for some (very) fresh air and a browse through the fashion section. While there, I surreptitiously overheard 2 Fashion Police wannabes rip into Alexa Chung's "It" book, suggesting it be named "Shit" instead.

 alrighty then!

After the rude awakening, I headed back to my office to get ready. 

"Am I really glam enough for a Social Gal party?" I pondered anxiously while using Lysol wipes to try and fix my still-wet manicure and googled "bare winter legs" to see if my decision to not wear tights, despite the below-zero temperatures, was gauche or not.

The Fashion Police wannabes would surely have something to say about it.

Don't mean girls and boys always have something to say about everything? Especially other people's happiness.

I pushed my negative self-talk aside and headed to the washroom to change into the Victoria's Secret dress the beau bought me for Christmas last year and take a few obligatory selfies.

After I applied an Instagram filter, making myself feel even better, I headed out to meet Dirty Martini and have a fabulous time.

Take that mean girls (and boys).