Coun. Ana Bailao kept her dog in her lap — the Maltipoo she adopted after being elected because she needed unconditional love.

Coun. Anthony Perruzza ate an apple. Or maybe it was a pear — the resolution at Toronto city council’s historic first meeting in cyberspace wasn’t consistently great.

And as far as could be seen, everyone wore pants to Thursday’s meeting, broadcast live on YouTube, unlike those who will go down in meme history for wearing a shirt, jacket, tie and boxer shorts to professional meetings being held virtually between colleagues working from home during the COVID-19 pandemic.

There were fumbles. Councillors had to be reminded to turn on their mics to speak. It took a long time to record votes, as each councillor had to be called on individually. At city hall they can vote by tapping a button at their desk.

At a typical council meeting in chambers, observers, including the media, sit in the gallery located behind councillors.

The cyber format meant viewers got to face councillors and we learned things: Coun. Stephen Holyday has an epic poker face, which he is able to maintain for hours at a time.

At home, the unassuming Coun. Paul Ainslie drinks from a cup that reads: Dad. Husband. Legend.

Coun. Denzil Minnan-Wong was chided on Twitter for using what looked like the Don Valley Parkway as his backdrop. In fact, Minnan-Wong has been meeting so often using the Webex app used on Thursday that he’s worked out the functionality for background pictures. He chose the Don Valley because it’s in his Don Valley East ward.

Councillors voted to shorten the lunch break — from 90 minutes to one hour, with Coun. Joe Cressy, who has only recently been reunited with his newborn son, clamouring to cut it to half an hour, presumably to keep in check another marathon work day for the chair of the city’s board of health.

“Everyone is home and has access to food,” he said.

Not exactly everyone. Mayor John Tory was broadcasting from his desk at city hall, in front of a painting of Toronto in 1854, when the city was a few boats and wharves in the harbour and 40,000 souls on land — well before the Spanish Flu epidemic of 1918-20 and the COVID-19 epidemic of 2019-20.

City staff populating the meeting from city hall also had to eat.

Tory was smooth — he’s had plenty of time to practise his remote game — he spent 14 days in self-isolation after travelling to London early in the pandemic and has learned to keep in touch with the city via his iPad, propped up on books in his condo.

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Coun. Frances Nunziata, who often chairs meetings, with rigour and charming impatience, kept her sass mostly in check, except for a brief scuffle with Coun. Jim Karygiannis, who was chided for not having his microphone on, leading him to declare indignantly: “I have it on very properly!”

Like many of us, city councillors are acquiring a look not widely seen since the 1970s, before personal grooming reached its current polished zenith.

Their hair is longer, looser, off-colour, there are more five-o’clock shadows, more beards, with Coun. Mike Layton achieving a beard worthy of Ernest Hemingway.

Despite everything, despite the awkward audio and blurred motion and the occasional hand-over-the-camera, council somehow managed to conduct city business, slipping into a familiar pattern by afternoon that saw Coun. Gord Perks drop his head to his desk in frustration.

“Some things will change because of the pandemic, some will not,” Perks said on Twitter.

@polakatropical wrote back: “Never change.”

Francine Kopun is a Toronto-based reporter covering city hall and municipal politics for the Star. Follow her on Twitter: @KopunF

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