NEWSLETTER



DOS & DON'TS

So what if Anton Newcombe’s a sloppy drunk whose only real talent is convincing record-industry benchwarmers that he’s a genius? Eight years ago he wrote half an OK song and he’s still looking great! Comments/Enlarge | See all


Remember all those soul-deadening jobs where they’d make you wear some stained-up secondhand workshirt that came down to your knees and how hard you’d try to cool up the periphery in case you ran into anybody you knew? I wonder if that’s why punk and goth girls always cram so much shit on their necks and arms. Comments/Enlarge | See all






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Photo by Olivier Alary




Montréalers love looking at boobies. So much so, they inject nudity into everyday tasks whenever they can. At one point, Montréal boasted an erotic haircut parlor, a naked car wash, and even a naked aquarium (girls would swim around in giant fish tanks). But none of them have outlasted the titillating sensory explosion that comes from a serveuses sexy joint (AKA topless breakfast).

All over the city (but mostly in the East End) places with names like Les Courtisanes, Chez Lidia, and Les Princess Super Sexy offer service with two smiles (horizontal and vertical) as nude waitresses serve up piping-hot coffee and bacon ’n’ egg specials. Starting at 6 AM most of the East End joints are crammed with hungry blue-collar types getting their sausage on. Some of these dives have been running since the late 50’s and judging by the glazed overlooks of their regulars, they’ve kept a loyal following. And rightly so, because naked breakfasts aren’t just some lame excuse to get off; it’s a celebration of Quebec’s joie de vivre, a greasy early-morning “fuck you” to all the Stiffly Mc Stiffersons in the rest of Canada, and about as Montréal as a two-cheek kiss.