I
was originally going to utilize this esteemed editorial space with a lengthy
goodbye to my beloved staff, but a more thrilling event has recently come to my
attention that I just must announce here instead.
The
neighbourhood where I currently live has officially been renamed “The East
Village”, which is perfectly delightful news for someone such as myself. The
working-class people who dwell around me do not, to be perfectly blunt, help
maintain the proper dignity that a madam of class truly deserves. The reputation
of the area is clearly in shambles, beset by such dreadful eyesores as lowrent
(sp?) apartment buildings and derelict public elementary schools.
"There's
certainly a stigma with saying you're on East Hastings. People sometimes react
to East Vancouver without realizing there's this eclectic bunch of
neighbourhoods," said Patricia Barnes, the Executive Director of the
Hastings North Business Improvement Association, in an interview with CTV.
I
have always longed to experience the glamour of New York City, and the
undistinguished Vancouver neighbourhood monikers held no flame to the romance
of the Manhattan boroughs. While some plebs might say that “Hastings Sunrise”
was a more humble title for the neighbourhood, they would be wrong. The East
Village is a perfect name, as evidenced by no less than two artist studios in
the area, and the voguish coffee shop that I rarely frequent but always mean
to.
There
is even a quaint “Chicken Processing Plant” that carefully wafts a
mouthwatering odour throughout all of The Village, particularly on hot summer
days. We, the more reputable residents, often send letters of appreciation to
the Plant, as we could never imagine living in a part of town that wasn’t
fragranced by rotting animal flesh. The residents of Kitsilano and Yale Town
have been trying to get Chicken Processing Plants in their neighbourhoods for
years, but alas, they just aren’t quite charming or eclectic enough.
Though
“The Meatpacking District” was our first choice for the new neighbourhood
moniker, in the end, City Hall said it sounded too much like a Gastown (<3!)
boutique, so we decided on The East Village instead. Although in previous years
the neighbourhood has been know to be a bit too proletariat to be truly
fashionable, the revitalization of the area is clearly a priority for the city,
as it should be. Once every borough of Vancouver has been cleaned up, the potential
of the city will finally be seen. It’s time the poor stopped taking advantage
of The East Village and found somewhere more appropriate to live.
I
originally thought I would have to move to a different part of town to gain
more status, as I am no longer going to hold the role of High Queen Empress of
the Capilano Courier, but now I see that the world listened to my prayers, and
sophistication has arrived at my doorstep. The “The East Village” banners are
already up along all the promenades near my home, with a
neo-art-nouveau-inspired design that I personally absolutely adore. I thought I
would be sad to leave the Capilano Courier, but now I feel nothing but relief. Goodbye,
inferior student clowns, I have no use for you anymore!
Sarah
Vitet has been reading the Capilano Courier since she was 14 years old, when her mom
started going to Cap and brought it home. Sarah immediately fell in love with
the paper, not only because of the “cool college newspaper” appeal, but also
because of the genuine campy journalism style, charming leftist editorializing,
and experimental art direction. She used to dream of one day becoming the
Editor-in-Chief of the Cap Courier, and when that day actually came, she couldn’t
contain herself. This year has been a remarkable learning experience that she wouldn’t
give up for anything, and she is so grateful for the three years she got to
spend working at the best paper in the world. She encourages anyone and
everyone to get involved with the Courier in some capacity, as it is a
life-changing force of nature that she will miss so much she doesn’t want to
think about it. She is bad with goodbyes, apologizes for this awkward
third-person epilogue to a cop-out sarcastic editorial, and wishes everyone a
summer full of responsible sun exposure, good sex, and bad recreational drug use.
//Sarah Vitet, high queen empress
//Sarah Vitet, high queen empress
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