<i>California Cruisin’</i> at <i>CANVAS Lounge</i>: free tickets wasted on me

Nothing gets my bile spitting and burping like the contrived nightclub scene masquerading as something real, as something that matters to me.  When I almost left an exclusive, sold-out, Vancouver International Playhouse Wine Festival (VPIWF) event – a California wine tasting at CANVAS Lounge – after only casing the joint, I realized something about myself:  I have little patience for the performance of knowledge and etiquette, especially when it occurs at a venue that is just a regular small-town bar impersonating an upscale lounge impersonating a legitimate wine tasting venue.  Although, I suppose a fake lounge is an appropriate locale for a fake tasting.  And it’s not snobbery on my part.  I love talking to folks who are enthusiastic about wine, especially when I can facilitate their learning, and I love meeting people who can facilitate mine.  Despite what I will sacrilegiously (misappropriate from Judith Butler’s influential gender theory and) call class/culture performativity, or “doing wine,” few of the California Cruisin’ patrons knew anything about wine tasting or wine, or cared to, although they behaved as they thought Masters of Wine might.

Although I chose to ignore the dress code sign on my way in, wearing plaid and denim myself, it came to haunt my every observation.  I wasn’t sure if it was the sign, or the retinal sandpapering of gaudy sequins, aggressive heels and leathern tits spilling out of tight polyester that made me want to be instantly transported back to my cozy little apartment, in my jammies on the couch, sharing popcorn with my dog.  A perfectly acceptable date for a Wednesday night, right?

But I was not wearing glittering ruby slippers, and after clicking my heels, I opened my eyes to find myself standing in front of a used car salesman who was trying to pour wine into my glass, which was not yet empty.  When I stopped him, he informed me that the wine I was drinking, from the competitor’s table across from his, was derogatorily known as “Desperate Housewives Wine” in the States.  The wine was excellent, and much better than his own table’s offering (no wineries mentioned), although it was difficult to be objective after witnessing such poor form.

Since the event was more of a social affair than a wine tasting, navigating around tables was difficult, there weren’t many wines open to try at each table, and no one had ‘the big guns out,’ so to speak.  But I was happy to take my time with some stellar wines, and by the time I got to the fourth or fifth sample, I observed that wine reps were starting to pour near glass-sized portions because, they too, realized people were just there to drink and get tipsy.  And maybe find a date.

Or watch attractive women contort their tiny bodies.  Two female acrobats assumed 80s-inspired rhinestone-studded positions in narrow nooks in the wall, and finished the show on a table shamelessly fashioned from a silver spray-painted cable spool acquired, I assume, just for their routine.  I think I was successful in refraining from laughing while I snapped ironic pictures.  Tragically, CANVAS’ website talks extensively about its social consciousness, but the lounge does not seem to think exploiting women’s bodies for cheap and unconsciously campy entertainment is something, merely, to refrain from, especially when profits are to be had.  I would cry foul and say that what happens in Vegas should stay there,  but the tackiness and low-budget execution of this spectacle made the sleazy Vegas showgirl shtick look like something authentic and legitimate.

For all the venue lacked, and I’m talking basics – the walls and ceilings needed fresh paint, the railings were decorated with xmas lights, there was a disco ball above the bar (did someone hire their 13-year-old to decorate the place?) – it employed in photographers with impressive cameras circulating about, preserving the wonder of the evening.  They took pictures all night long, and periodically uploaded them onto a projector slide show.  People were almost as amused with watching photos of the event they were currently attending as they were with the bewildering acrobatic performance.  Servers circulated with plates of bite-sized food:  sliders, fig-and-blue cheese breads, bocconcini tomato skewers, and chocolate-covered strawberries.  Of course, none of the plates offered were vegan (although most were vegetarian), so I can’t comment on them except to say that they all looked beautiful with exception of the sliders.  Is that fad not over yet?  I suppose it’s unfair for me to criticize CANVAS Lounge for a food fad that everyone seems to love, even if it is going the way of the salad bar.

Oh, and CANVAS is listed on the VPIWF‘s event page as “Canvas Lounge and Gallery in Gastown” although it does not seem to call itself a gallery on its own website.  Either way, the venue seemed to be exhibiting at least two distinct series that were marked with title/artist/medium placards.  Now that I’ve criticized amateur wine enthusiasts for acting pretentious about wine, I don’t want to do the same thing about art.  But I will say that the images lining CANVAS’ walls seemed quite commercial; most of it appeared to be digital/graphic art, printed, framed, and under glass.  One series was sports-themed:  back-lit and stylized collages of Trevor Linden and Geroy Simon of the BC Lions, for example.  Perhaps the glorified memorabilia were brought in for Olympics hype; regardless, they looked a bit like they belonged in a rich bachelor’s basement or a high-end sports pub rather than an atmospheric lounge.

One benefit to what I perceived as a horrid waste of opportunity was, well, that everyone was wasting opportunity.  While important-looking people guzzled Chardonnay and ogled the two acrobats tying themselves into one titillating knot of shiny spandex, I held extensive conversations with many of California’s most renowned wine elite:  Ted Seghesio of Seghesio Family Vineyards, Alan Cannon of Rombauer Vineyards, and Randy Ullom of Kendall-Jackson Wine Estates just to name a few.  And, they seemed genuinely happy to meet folks interested in wine because we were a rare breed at this event.  When it was time to leave, I must admit, I was enjoying myself immensely:  taking ironic pictures of the tacky disco ball, the fetishized acrobats, the ugly bathroom and the filthy red carpet.  But, as this event in no way resembled a proper wine tasting, there were, of course, no spittoons, and I take no responsibility for my sarcastic revelry.

On my way out, the men at the door were kind enough to indulge my request to photograph the dress code sign in the window, and they joked about my acknowledging the “no douchebags” rule as they so-called it.  The security guards were friendly and funny, and although I share their distaste for certain fashion wear, the irony of the anti ‘gang-wear’ sign was hilarious; I think it, in fact, summoned the very clientele it stood to prohibit, if there was a grain of truth in the guards’ joking.  On this particular night, the place was as fresh as a summer’s eve, if you catch my drift.

All kidding aside, I should concede that most California Cruisin’ attendees enjoyed themselves immensely, and found the lounge cool and kitschy.  I even heard folks talking about it the next day – about how much fun they had and how they buy the $55 tickets every year, and intend to do so next year too.

I should also say that the venue is only responsible for so much, and CANVAS was hired to provide services that I, personally, did not fully appreciate.  I assume the wine tasting itself was commissioned and organized by a party associated with the VPIWF, and not CANVAS Lounge.

Yeah, okay, so I took a picture of a picture of myself when it rotated on the projector. This is me with Vancouver's own joe corkscrew and a sip of Chardonnay in my mouth.

Well, friends, I can’t love everything.  I’d be a tad masochistic to go to California Cruisin’ again, even with free tickets.  Had I known that the event was a glorified club affair and not the legitimate wine tasting it was advertised and endorsed as, I probably would not have been so disappointed.  And I’m sure the folks at CANVAS Lounge, should they happen to come across this post, would regard me an unfit patron, let alone critic, of their fine establishment.

– ruby