Recognizing the diversity in Montreal’s offerings, CDB set out to create a themed event where these separate arts could converge into one spectacular performance. Rather than limiting itself to a pre-established guideline, CDB simply sets out a theme and incorporates electronic dance music, live burlesque (and sometimes circus) performance, and then tops it off with an element of interactivity with its audience. Attendees, ranging from CDB veterans to first-timers, are not simply there to watch the show; they can also become the show. CDB said of their most recent event, Prohibition, that “the only thing prohibited is determined by your own inhibitions.”

September 14 saw the stylized celebration of CDB’s seventh year under this intriguing premise. The clock was set back to the roaring 1920s, with the kitschy yet opulent Le Lion D’Or as the setting for the evening’s festivities – a theatre which, from its grand beginnings in the 1930s, seemed destined to serve in cabaret and burlesque extravaganzas. It was not just its period-accurate interior that made Le Lion D’Or the perfect venue for CDB’s soirée. Sitting on the fringe of the Village, Le Lion D’Or has housed its share of Montreal nightlife in its over 80 year lifetime – even surviving a forceful closure ordered by former mayor Jean Drapeau’s campaign in the 1950s, as it was deemed too bawdy for the Public Morals Committee of the time. And so, it seems no stranger to controversy, even welcoming it into its warmly crafted interior.

CDB events generally begin around 10 p.m., with the true party kicking off closer to 11 p.m.. As people arrived, the middle floor of the creaky venue transformed into a dance hall for the masses. Concurrently, the ambience-creating, Sinatra-dominated playlist succumbed to a more contemporary electronic style, with a DJ appearing onstage at the front of the room to guide the evening’s sound.

CDB then delivered its pièce de résistance with the evening’s first performance. Slightly past midnight, the first performer, Madria, appeared on stage to rousing applause. Though she brought the swinging dance scene to a halt, there is no ill-will as she seduced, excited, and teased the audience by dancing and stripping until nearly nude, a basic formula which most performances throughout the night would follow, at least to some degree. Once she finished capturing the minds of all present, she abandoned the stage. This is the cue for the DJ to re-ignite the dancing. This time, both the music and the people dancing to it seemed more immersed in the sexuality around them than before.

It’s quite remarkable to watch a room transition from dance hall, to theatre, and back to dance hall so easily and completely.

The rest of the evening would follow a similar pattern: every half-an-hour or so, a new performer would take the stage, usually with a performance more intense than the last. Then, in the interim, the people would dance to an electronic playlist while the atmosphere became increasingly sexualized (and the people less clothed). They made friendly conversation, they kissed without rancour.

Party-goers took part in a truly interactive performance; fetishism in theatrical form. People were not here to simply bear witness to the spectacle, nor were they here to gawk; and they certainly weren’t here to judge. Instead, people had convened to be part of an interesting and unique enclave of Montreal nightlife. “Cirque De Boudoir parties are special, we’re not just another club night,” CDB explains on their website. “We are open to everyone – straight, gay, bi, vanilla, trans, kinky, fetishist, BDSM, swinger, goth, punk, raver, fashionista, hedonist… everyone is welcome to come join the kinky circus that is Cirque De Boudoir!”

What set Prohibition apart from the true 1920s was a sense of belonging, and a lack of societal pressure to hide one’s more unique expressions from the outside world. People could spill out in the streets in their costumes, going for cigarettes without shame. In the past, the art of burlesque seemed to revolve around legitimizing a performance style in a time where it was considered deviant. Today, CDB seems to caricaturize this taboo of the 1920s and, in fact, does much in illustrating social progression in society. But the burlesque parties CDB offers remain a niche market.

Encouraged in its own community, a generally more youthful and open group, the CDB scene still has a wide acceptance and recognition from those who choose not to attend. The climate of CDB is far from that of the 1920s, during which the burlesque circuit was society’s dirty little secret, and participation was something to be embarrassed about. The CDB crowd still thrives on bringing together open-minded people in an environment where they can openly express their “desires,” as CDB calls them. While this sexually provocative event is far from being a mainstream affair, CDB prides itself on offering this unique setting that is not found anywhere else. The theme may have been the 1920s, but the setting was truly 2013.

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STM bus drivers are unionized under the Syndicat des chauffeurs d’autobus de la STM, which is a part of the larger Syndicat canadien de la fonction publique (SCFP). The union’s campaign aims to pressure their employer into installing cameras in buses across the city to provide for a safer service at night.

Stéphane Lachance, the main spokesperson for the union, told The Daily in French, “Installing cameras in buses is a way of preventing assaults from occurring. The goal is to install them in all buses that circulate after 11 p.m. since all attacks take place after that time.”

In 2006, the STM initiated the Sécuribus program in an effort to provide better safety for bus drivers and their clients. One of the promised measures to prevent assaults included cameras in buses.

Despite the STM’s efforts, Lachance was skeptical of the program. “The [Sécuribus] program did not diminish the number of assaults on buses.” He continued, “In fact, in 2013, we are headed towards a total of 300 attacks, which is huge.”

A highly publicized attack on April 24 became one of the most significant events leading up to the movement, according to Lachance. The Service de la police de la ville de Montréal’s (SPVM) media relations communication officer, Anna-Claude Poulin, revealed a detailed report of the incident to The Daily. “Arriving at the corner of Fairmount Avenue, the driver [of the 363 bus] passes the bus stop’s shelter in which the three men were standing and stops a few feet away from them. The three men, dissatisfied with the bus driver’s conduct, get on the bus and insult him.”

After insulting the driver, the men proceeded to physically assault him.

Despite cameras already installed on that particular bus, Lachance said there is a long way to go.

“Currently, the STM has equipped 900 out of 1,600 buses with cameras. And they simply need to install cameras in 500 of the remaining buses to provide for a safer service at night.”

“The bus driver who had gotten assaulted on that night was not able to go back to work again,” Lachance continued. “Also, the cameras allowed [us] to catch and arrest the attackers. You can now understand the effectiveness of [having] a camera [in a bus at night].”

The accompanying YouTube video of the assault “Le SPVM recherche trois suspects qui ont agressé un chauffeur d’autobus,” with almost 60,000 total views, catalogued the incident.

According to Lachance, the union is fighting for more than just the safety of its bus drivers;  the safety of the public is of primary concern as well. “If the bus drivers are safe, the passengers of their bus will also be safe.”

The union is adamant that it will continue with its movement for as long as necessary. “As long as all the buses of the STM are not equipped with cameras, the bus drivers will continue to wear the t-shirt that denounce[s] the fact that there are no cameras present in the buses for [the safety of] the employees and the citizens,” said Lachance.

Lachance placed the blame on the STM. “If they [the STM] would have installed cameras in the night buses to ensure the security of the bus drivers and their passengers, we would not have begun this strike.” He also remarked, “They won’t do anything about it. It is a lack of willingness on their part.”

The SPVM declined to comment on the union’s campaign to prevent violence against STM bus drivers.

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Initial impressions of St. Henri may seem unceremonious at first. The weathered appearance of a laborious past is hardly hidden behind a thick layer of graffiti upon working class structures and poorly aged infrastructure. The AMT grumbles past, harkening to the freight trains which once commanded the ambiance of the town.

Originally located outside Montreal, St. Henri was established with the intention of opening a tannery in Montreal circa 1685. Unfortunately for him, the process of leather tanning was deemed too disruptive for allowance within the city of Montreal. Undeterred,  a nearby area with an abundant water flow and close proximity to trading routes was selected for the tannery. And so, St. Henri developed into a small artisanal community of leather tanneries, with a decidedly small population of 440. Its reputation as a tannery hotspot grew from here, even taking on the name “Saint-Henri-des-Tanneries.”

St. Henri’s development would be driven by the bordering Lachine Canal. With trade being stymied by the impassable Lachine rapids, the canal’s completion in 1824 provided the first passageway into the upper St. Lawrence River. The area around the canal, especially St. Henri, became the centre of Canada’s industrial development as Montreal moved much of its rapidly growing industry sector from the downtown area into bordering factory suburbs.

It was during this industrial revolution that St. Henri grew into its working class demeanour – perhaps best characterized in Gabrielle Roy’s novel Bonheur d’occasion (The Tin Flute). Here, the sharp contrast between Westmount’s large stone mansions and Saint-Henri’s crowded and purpose-built abodes is depicted in its full glory.

St. Henri’s original town centre was unable to survive the era of mass development, but pieces of the historic Place St. Henri can still be seen at the intersections of St. Jacques and St. Henri. A majestic bank and impressive fire hall, built a year prior to its architectural twin the Atwater Market, stand stoic near the town’s centre

Today, St. Henri remains a wonderful place deserving of a walk. The area has received more attention in the last decade or so with recent public investments in the Lachine Canal (and its designation as a National Historic Site of Canada) and the creation of Montreal’s first woonerf (living street) – a street giving pedestrians and cyclists priority over motorists, encouraging a public social space. The woonerf acts as a living museum, tracing the path of St. Henri’s main water artery, the St. Jacques river. The river was later turned into a canal, the path of which is marked by a treeline through the centre of the woonerf.

The abundance of public improvement throughout the area in general has grown as a new era of private interest in the area has developed. As one traverses the area, the large abandoned factories seem plentiful. A closer look at these seemingly decrepit factories will reveal coloured curtains, lovingly cared for flowers, and freshly created paintings. A never ending battle seems to rage over preserving their past or creating their future. The Saint-Henri Historical Society, as well as many residents of the area, want to preserve these heritage buildings, against the wishes of developers who want to turn them into condos and trendy lofts.

St. Henri is undergoing a new type of revolution, from an old working class enclave to a vibrant Montreal centre. In an area known for its ability to overcome challenge, it now stands to do so in grand form. Expensive loft space and younger residents are coming to define the new St. Henri, allowing the canal to reverberate with life once again while maintaining the cachet of its heritage.

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