Former Victoria resident Zan Comerford defends her hometown from the lashing so eloquently delivered in “Cascadia Defied” by Racan Souiedan, in Sad Mag issue one.
Yes, Vancouver, we know. You’re all grown up now. 
Your music scene is good, and you have dozens of independent art spaces. East Van holds its own in the art world, and the city brims with gorgeous, fit, stylish types on beat up bikes with passions for good espresso.
Vancouver can even claim to possess the one true criterion of any progressive West Coast city: it has more freelance graphic designers / writers / artists than one would care to shake a stick at, all of them drinking lattes in the afternoon with their dogs.
But, c’mon Vancouver, let’s not get cruel. Racan Souiedan’s article “Cascadia Defied” in the Autumn 2009 issue of Sad Mag would have us believe that there is hardly another Canadian city that comes close to your brilliance.
Victoria may be small, awkward and kind of annoying. Sure, it’s the runt of the litter, but as a city, it has something to offer too. It offers you things that none of its littermates can—only the best of those things that make life worth living: dating, art, and partying.
Let’s start where it all starts, really: sex. Victoria’s dating pool is the Don Perignon of getting it on. With a liberal university, hundreds of hospitality jobs, and thriving art and music scenes, Victoria is a destination for attractive, educated, and artistic twenty-somethings. And it gets better. Because of a phenomenon commonly known by Islanders as “The Velvet Rut,” Victoria is so comfortable that all of these eligible beauties stick around long enough to give everyone—and I mean everyone—a shot. Long known as “The Land of Ladies,” Victoria boasts three women to every man. Beyond doing wonders for one’s odds from a merely statistical standpoint, it also does wonders for your chances of “Nailing a Ten!” as they say on the street.
Strolling hand-in-hand with a good dating scene is, of course, a good nightlife. Victoria has more restaurants, pubs and bars per capita than New York, not to mention a handful of organic microbreweries that give Red Truck a run for its money.
Victoria’s music scene is longstanding, and contrary to Mr. Souiedan’s article, the well-worn music scene makes the local shows anything but boring. From grungy basement bars to scenester havens, Victoria’s music venues are attuned to exactly what makes the Island lifestyle so attractive: good beer, and good friends. Walking into a local show is to see arms thrown around shoulders, as 250 of the band’s closest friends belt out the songs to lyrics they never get tired of hearing.
Should big name acts forge the treacherous Strait of Georgia (which they do with surprising regularity) they are delighted to find a young, willing and eager audience that get just enough entertainment to keep them ravenous for a good time. Audiences rather satiated from regular snacking on live shows are tougher, blander crowds in larger metropolitan cities.
Victoria’s enthusiasm means we can hold our own among the big boys of Vancouver, Portland and Seattle in terms of art and culture. The very quality that finds Victoria being compared to these cultural havens is exactly what sets it apart.
Victoria isn’t trying to be something it’s not.
Instead of lining up to see expensive international film festivals, Victorians flock to abandoned warehouses, where guys with dreadlocks are stringing up a stolen projector. Instead of art openings with wine, cheese and pretension, groups like Panikon Deima are setting up guerrilla art installations in the creakiest fire escapes and oldest alleys in the city.
Above all, Victoria isn’t trying to compete with Vancouver, doesn’t want to be like Portland, and couldn’t care less just what Seattle would say about its coffee (as delicious and well crafted as it may be).
Victoria is too busy doing just what its inhabitants have always been doing: hanging out, relaxing, and enjoying itself.
— Zan Comerford
