Fashion at CIFF: Scoping style at the Crackie premiere

Photography by Santiago Medina
Director Sherry White, CIFF director Jacqueline Dupuis and star Meghan Greeley at the Crackie premiere. Photography by Santiago Medina

Now in its tenth year the Calgary International Film Festival is no stranger to the biz or its beautiful people. No small feat for a city best known for its annual rodeo, the Calgary Stampede–10 solid days of boots, buckles, Stetsons and beer!  Last night however, the full-on assault of Western fringe so prevalent during Stampede week had been shelved for party glam, smart suits, and of course the ubiquitous LBD.

The 800 festival goers at last night’s opening gala were treated to a screening of the Newfoundland-made Crackie, a bleak slice of Canadiana. On hand were director Sherry White, a cute Meg Ryan lookalike, and newcomer and lead actress, 21-year-old Meghan Greeley. Unfortunately comedian Mary Walsh, who gave a dynamite performance as a wisecracking, whoring grandmother, had to cancel last minute.

Despite the somewhat sombre nature of the film there was much to celebrate at the post gala party held at the Eau Claire Market. Decorated in Christian Liaigre-esque white leather sofas, swaths of sheers, chandeliers and red carpet runways, the market was transformed into a modern lounge. Before kicking back with a martini and a canapé, partygoers got glammed up by Clinique and stepped into the FASHION photo booth. (Check back soon to see yourself on our cover.)

Although the vibe was definitely more low key that I expected from an opening gala, there were some isolated cases of fashion flair. Interior designer Monica Stevens looked resplendent in black Etro pants paired with a shimmery Dries Van Noten top and killer Marni wedges, while FASHION’s own Karen Cleveland kept it purely Canadian in a jersey dress by Toronto’s Greta Constantine. Festival director Jacqueline Dupuis was elegant in the emerald Postella she picked up at Mealan.  With unseasonably hot temperatures most people played it cool in jeans and tees, but there was nary a wrangler or roper in sight.

By Karen Ashbee

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