Fast becoming Canada's Hollywood, West Vancouver is the wealthiest neighbourhood in this great nation, where people go in the pursuit of perfection. Rich, “established” Vancouverites tired of the city spend millions to settle here all in the quest to advertise they’ve made it (frequently at the expense of living beyond their means). The district functions under the mantra money = love/happiness, charity = ribbon cutting, fat = failure, and aging = a trip to the plastic surgeon. A place where MILFs sporting Lululemons can commonly be confused for their Louis Vuitton-totting 15-year-old counterparts, and the local police have nothing better to do than round up bums and drive them over the Lions Gate Bridge to deposit them back on Granville street.
Genetically modified, lettuce-fed trophy wives spend all day orchestrating interior designers, personal trainers, chefs, and florists to create a sexed-up Martha Stewart persona, for which they take personal credit. After an extended day doing 'who knows what' at the office, their lawyer/producer/real estate mogul husbands trade in their Pathfinders for Porsches and whisk their wives away to various socialite obligations. Filipino nannies simultaneously raise their Wonderkin and maintain the household cooking and cleaning, all for the same slave wages they made in the Philipinnes! To quell their guilt, parents shell out copious amounts of money, which their little hellions promptly spend at Park Royal. A seperate allowance is used to pay their drug dealers for crystal meth, which helps the children to simultaneously achieve honour role grades, team captain positions, and slim physiques, all in the quest to ooze perfection.
People who have escaped the West Vancouver bubble refuse to admit this is where they grew up, for fear of being judged as “one of them” and consequently, spending an extra hour a week in therapy.