They sat in clusters on the floor of the MTCC lobby, in the vein of Hullabaloo ravers (minus the MDMA). Decked out in all manner of costumes, the agenda was to see and be seen. The Toronto ComiCon is an articulated explosion of all things geek.
Last Saturday afternoon, I walked into into the Grand Central Station of cosplay: the women’s washroom. Girls hurriedly prepped their costumes as I squinted through a hairspray cloud.
“Agh! It’s just…the cape, it keeps falling in the toilet!” a woman whined from a stall.
Meanwhile, Sailor Mars peered into the mirror, methodically brushing her long wig.
A woman in lime green spandex shellacked her hair into a crisp dome-like structure on her head. “I was waiting in line for like, an hour,” she pouted. She pushed down hard on her false eyelashes and stuck out her chest. “Ready? Make-up even? Beautiful,” she announced to her friend. “Let’s do this shit,” her friend replied, tottering out the door on crystal-studded stiletto heels.
There are babes, to be certain, and a 3-1 ratio of appreciative admirers. I don’t see a lot of hooking up save for a couple of teenaged steampunks making out on a Magic tournament table. The official-looking Magic judges turned a blind eye, dutifully fixated on the trading of the cards. Toronto’s annual ComiCon has drawn in thousands of enthusiasts, queuing up to pay twenty-five bucks a pop to hobnob with comic artists, gawk at the costumes and browse a football field-length of merch. Meeting your fave fandom celebrity is extra.
The Ontario Ghostbusters are here in full force, selling Stay-Puft Marshmallow heads and twinkies. A Dan Akyroyd lookalike really adds to their authenticity. You can hire them to show up to your next wine-tasting/gallery opening/funeral. A few tables over, a Klingon shared his sewing insights with a fellow trekkie. “I personally don’t trust Velcro or glue,” he offered. “I stitch everything together by hand.” There are a few little kids (including a tiny princess Leia), but mostly the ComiCon is geared to the big ones. Jim Felker is peddling his Changes comic series, with half the proceeds going to the Toronto AIDS committee. In the comic, a trans-woman named Sara guides the reader through BDSM safety tips.
Doctor Who is big this year, with several young maidens dressed as the blue 1960’s police box, TARDIS. The ATM lineups are as long as ever, but several vendors use a smartphone-based credit card system. People with long poles fetch t-shirts from Stylin Online’s 2-storey t-shirt tower. Meanwhile, Pepsi offers its archaic Pepsi-or-Coke taste challenge (we all know the difference, guys), while a remote-control R2D2 rolls by. A man with greying hair clutched a toy Frankenweenie and looked over the room with quiet determination. “I have to re-focus my energies on this section,” he announced to this companion.
It’s like Halloween in the middle of March; a welcome reprieve from the dreary and stuck-up demeanour usually encountered in this generic conference space. The crowd is polite and without pretense, apologizing at the slightest brush while walking by.
A man selling light sabers is explaining the different levels. The lowest tier costs $25, the highest is $200: The Darth Vader Force FX Removable Light Saber, which lights up and emits a satisfying hum. He assures me that it is extremely resilient and would be “the most amazing flashlight,” a claim I don’t doubt in the least. There are plenty of web-comic artists proffering their wares, like Suzanne Miller’s Gloomies, which cleverly encapsulate the annoyances of working life. Miller uses the ad revenue to buy things on the Internet.
A young man looked elated after meeting Patrick Stewart. “What did you SAY to him?” his girlfriend implored, breathlessly. “I said ‘Good day Sir Patrick. It’s very nice to meet you,’ I had to think about what I was going to say the whole time I was in line!”
Comic artist Guy H.L. tells me how he met Patrick Stewart and showed him a portrait he had done of him. Stewart seemed weary, he thought. He asked, eagerly, “So…what do you think?!?” and got the glum reply: “I don’t know. But it looks good.” Guy’s father thinks the uptick in ComiCon attendance in the last few years can be largely attributed to the Big Bang Theory, the popular show that celebrates all things geek. “Bazinga is the word,” he laughed. Indeed, the exploding popularity of ComiCon will see its organizers laughing all the way to the bank. The geeks have won.
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Tiffy Thompson is a writer and illustrator for the Toronto Standard. Follow her on Twitter at @tiffyjthompson.
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