Kitsilano: a rave review

Yes, I live in Kitsilano. Yes, I do own yoga pants, but I’m not a Kits Bitch. Part of that is the fact that I live in West Kits, not East Kits.

Let’s just do a little comparison:

East Kits has bags of organic arugula from Capers. West Kits has bags of weed.

East Kits wears a fantastic local designer and the Gap. West Kits wears thrift shop clothes and the Gap.

East Kits lunches at Feenie’s often. West Kits lunches at Pita Pit often.

East Kits has a darling little Cabriolet to drive. West Kits is a member of the Cooperative Auto Network and takes the bus, or drives a very late model car that, even when it was new, was an economy car.

East Kits has designer tiny dogs, like Chi-Poms, or Shi-Poos. West Kits has SPCA mutts.

We both do Pilates but East Kits is better at it. West Kits tips over during a pose, laughing.

But I just went up to Darby’s because there’s a benefit there for those who lost houses and stuff in the fire a couple of weeks ago, and the place is packed to the rafters! I tried to offer my money to Marianne, who lives three doors up from me and who organized the event. She actually turned my money down, and said that we were doing just fine, monetarily!

I looked around the audience and saw West Kits and East Kits, intermingled. Everyone was helping out, listening to great music. It was delightful! Let’s hear it for Kitsilano: We were named after a three-headed sea monster, but we can pull together as a neighbourhood when someone’s chips are down.

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