Champagne is the only alcohol she will drink, and usually it's Dom Perignon, a cellar of which the Cowplands reportedly keep in their house. Bertrand is buying for the group, is proof that she doesn't like to force her expensive tastes on other people, she says proudly. She and her husband often play squash at 8 in the morning. They go bobsledding with Prince Albert of Monaco in St.
They love snowboarding. She works out four to five days a week, and knows she hasn't done enough when she feels her triceps jiggle slightly when she shakes salt or pepper on her food. She isn't hungry, she explains, because after her workout, Mr.
Bertrand prepared his special ginseng-and-spirulina power shake. I will have it, definitely, when the time comes, because I feel so young inside. She doesn't know which designer made her outfit because it was sent to her, anonymously, in the mail.
At least four times a year, packages arrive at their house from Canadian designers. She wears knee-high black boots, and sunglasses propped on top of her head, even though it's raining outside. On her hands, which are not manicured, she wears several pieces of jewellery, a gold bracelet decorated with small black paw prints, a sporty Cartier watch, small rings, and a big whopper of a diamond at 24 carats.
Is she surprised at how people react to her clothing choices? For a Christmas card one year, the Cowplands sent out a picture of Ms. Cowpland, dressed in a red catsuit and stilettos.
In society, how money is handled is always an issue. There's the snooty old-money strategy: downplay its significance while enjoying its benefits. The graceful high-minded new-money approach: talk about it in abstract terms, that it gives you freedom and choice and creativity.
Then there's the Cowpland take: emphasize the fun you're having with it as a way to deflect criticism of excessive consumption. Cowpland enthuses. She has said that her marriage to Mr. Cowpland works because she is an equally strong personality and that she insists on "being treated as a lover, not a wife.
Report an error. Editorial code of conduct. Skip to main content. I knew Mike and Marlen for many years prior to photographing their secret wedding the first wedding on the cover of Macleans. A boudoir portrait of Marlen a few years later made the papers as the Ottawa Police asked me to take it down from the windows of my Gladstone Studio as it had caused two car accidents from rubbernecking in a single week. Parties at the Cowpland residences put every last party I have attended to shame.
I remember an incident when a certain Prime Minister was admiring my digital creation on her wall that left little to the imagination.
I was asked…who was the subject…. Marlen simply walked up to the artpiece, turned and gave a devilish grin…The PM nearly choked on an olive. Even before the clickbaiting of our current era, the media were not kind to Marlen.
Upon winning a large settlement from a Toronto magazine that had stolen my shot for a slam piece, I called Marlen and her posse and we proceeded to drink all the Dom Perignon at an upscale Byward Market resto on my nickel. The Shopping Malls of the s were extravagant retail meccas, a place for us awkward kids to spend our allowance on a bag of Kernels, some posters from Discus, video games from CompuCentre, and the idyllic spot where our parents did their year round shopping under the dappled rays of a skylit roof.
There was nothing like the mall of the s. Note the ever present water fountain, tropical plants, and, smoking. In addition to their era-specific decor splendor, they almost always had another common feature: A massive water fountain. Spraying a geyser of chlorinated water into the dry mall air, its burbling sounds and circular construction was always a welcome and soothing sight to behold, a place to relax , congregate and meet up with your school pals for an afternoon of hanging out at the mall.
Yet this once core landmark has now vanished from most shopping malls, their demise brought on by the downward spiral of the mall retail model. Cutting corners and adapting to increase their profits, the mighty water fountains of malls are deemed too expensive to maintain, and likely were a liability yes we all know someone who jumped or fell in one or maybe the coins we all tossed in for our deepest wishes were too much to bear for the mall management to wrap and donate to charity.
Image: GoogleMaps. The shopping mall was a post-war retail concept primarily based on the transition of residential areas moving into a suburban mode of living. Ottawa has its share of early s malls, but the focus of this piece are malls that featured opulent water fountains.
An American shopping centre developer by the name of Taubman revolutionized shopping malls by introducing tiled floors instead of carpet, indoor fountains, and two levels, allowing a shopper to make a circuit of all the stores. Daylight was filtered through glass skylights making it seem like the afternoon was lasting longer, which encouraged shoppers to linger the whole day. The once prevalent greenery of plants at shopping malls is now gone.
Remember these at the Rideau Centre? Under the calming sounds of burbling water amidst lush tropical plants, you could buy your slacks and some MMMMMMuffins to snack on.
The fountain was where parents would tell kids to meet if they got separated, a rendezvous place, and a spot for kids to toss coins into the depths of the crystal clear waters in hopes that a special wish came true. The epic water fountain that was once at Bayshore Shopping Centre. One of the most notable mall fountains in Ottawa was the one at Bayshore Shopping Centre. Most of Ottawa that shopped there between and the 80s remember this very memorable fountain, until it mysteriously disappeared during renovations.
A virtual jungle oasis. That exact same spot today. No plants, no fountain. A common misconception about that fountain sculpture is that it was moved to Sparks Street. Through some investigative sleuthing and a source that will remain anonymous thank-you , I believe I have been able to locate the Bayshore Fountain, which still exists in Ottawa. The Bayshore water fountain sculptor revealed…Almuth Lutkenhaus. Lutkenhaus at work on one of her sculptures. She died in Enjoyed by thousands of Ottawa shoppers and kids who were propped up on its ledge, how could such a prominent and beloved sculpture suddenly just disappear?
Who bought such a well-known public art piece? It must be someone of stature, someone who in the 80ss was wealthy enough and had the grounds big enough to accommodate the large art piece. Who fits this description?
Bill Teron was a wealthy developer of the time who built his massive estate out in Kanata, but a Google search showed no connection.
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