Nobody ever told me about the hangovers.

Waking Sunday morning, the Party Princess felt more like a used baby wipe than what she actually is: a magnificent human specimen deserving of a lifetime of social veneration and wicked shoes. Ever the trooper, I conjured up another little black dress (my soon-to-be-dead stylist had the nerve to stand me up at Holt's last week) and limped out to meet the limo. My driver, who had just spent the last couple of hours on a driving range, was a little chipper.

"Why will you not talk to me?" he asked as we sped north on Bayview toward Norman Jewison's annual barbecue at the Canadian Film Centre. "Is there something wrong? I feel there is a distance between us." I pushed my sunglasses up my nose and released a silent, queasy burp.

Once ensconced in the VIP tent, I was able to administer my secret family hangover cure: Veuve Cliquot and Midol. Now, at least, I felt moderately better than most of the other guests looked. In the blazing 32-degree heat, even the models appeared less than perfect. Perched above the nearly 3,000-head crowd on a stone wall, several hired hard bodies sweated in Holt Renfrew's winter evening-wear collection, an assortment of fur, feathers, leather and spandex in the stifling shade of the moment: black.

There were a few Hollywood celebs milling around and the usual lunacy ensued: Helen Mirren was elbowed in the face by a photographer trying to get a shot of Judd Nelson (whose shirt, incidentally, was unironed and smeared with a cheese-like substance) and Lou Gossett Jr. ate chicken liver pâté and gazpacho in the shade.

In the end, locals provided more glamour than the Hollywood fauna. MuchMusic fury Sook-Yin Lee held court bossing all the photographers around as reporters interviewed her about her star turn as a movie actress. She stars alongside Adam Beach in The Art of Woo, a romantic comedy set in Toronto premiering at the festival. First-time director Helen Lee describes Sook-Yin's screen presence as "a cross between Lucy Liu and Audrey Hepburn" and her film as "Bridget Jones's Diary meets Breakfast at Tiffany's."

The only person who didn't seem to be oozing toxins was Norman Jewison himself, who is supposedly 74 but looks no older than 60. I got talking to Jewison's farm manager, Jim, who runs the hundred-head cattle ranch up in Caledon East. He said every year Jewison helps bring in the hay.

Suddenly I felt a major exercise trend coming on. I consulted Jewison himself: Could farm labour be the secret to eternal youth? "There is no secret!" he said, and then changed his mind. "No wait. The secret is to never stop working."

Just before fleeing to nap in her air-conditioned car, the Party Princess was soothed to lay her glazed eyes on Luca Viscardi, president of Toula restaurant, which catered the event.

It is official: Viscardi, who recently moved here from Milan, is The Most Handsome Man in the Greater Toronto Area. If you don't believe me, go to Toula and see for yourself. The food is yummy too.

I am relieved to report that his wife, Ursula, an occasional commercial actress and the mother of their two children, is equally goddess-like.

The Party Princess (sigh) will not be forced to intervene.

Party points How the Canadian Film Centre barbecue measured up:

• Fashion: **
• Food: ***
• Flirt opportunities: ****
• Booze: ***
• Buzz: ****
• Eye candy: *****
• Atmosphere: ***
• Conversation: ***
• PPET*: **
• Overall score: 29 points

*Party Princess Emotional Temperature

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