I wrote a treeplanting article called "Eating Dirt" not so long ago and who better to run it than B.C.'s very own Vancouver Review?

That is in fact me on the cover--albeit with the top of my head sliced off--posing in my very best treeplanter couture. It's tough to tell, but underneath those shin pads I am indeed wearing yoga pants. Who knew the secret to Vancouver's civic uniform, the lululemon ass bra, is a kind of indestructible fabric that resists a surprising assortment of wear and tear?

We took this photo and many others in the closest facsimile to a clearcut we could find within city limits, the blowdown sections of Stanley Park. For this shot I was styled by a very lovely professional named Cori with synthetic "dirt" and "sweat" packaged in jars and spray bottles.

"What's wrong with real mud," I asked her as she smeared a substance called Clean Grease down my neck.

"It doesn't show up for the camera," she told me.

Just then a jogger loped up on the path, visibly peeved that our production was taking up the entire width of route. "Oh, how Hollywood," he sneered as he trotted around us. That's what it's come to in Tinseltown North--I guess we're tired of making way for the cameras. Hmmm, maybe if they offered to take our garbage away...