Drunk Goggles.

It's not wise to enter the Drake Hotel without a buzz. Actually, it's usually not wise to enter the Drake at all. But the groan inducing business-class hipster hotel isn't all bad. It has a delicious brunch menu and a tendency to shower its favourite guests with mysterious drink tickets.

And every once an a while, the Drake underground hosts an undeniably good party. Last night VLSonN spun with The Ghost Is Dancing. Downing a tallcan, I pushed passed the overzealous bouncers and ignored the ill fitting blazers and f-me pumps in the front lounge.

I drank Redstripe downstairs until suddenly we were the only ones left dancing and the bartenders were giving us pouty "go-home" eyes. As I stumbled onto the streetcar and watched the hotel disappear out the back window, it looked charming and slick, if only under my veil of intoxication.

Oh, and Odie is definitely a briefs guy.