The bloom's off the rose. The phantom's unmasked. The real Gregor Robertson has stood up.

Last month after a city hall microphone captured Robertson, mayor and party leader of Vision Vancouver, mocking a group of citizen speakers, a strange thing happened in the local media. He was criticized. Newspapers, television and talk radio expounded on Robertson's dastardly derision.

Of course, they had no choice. The audio clip was posted online for the whole city to hear (YouTube: Robertson, microphone). The mainstream media scrambled to catch up, and in our sound bite culture, the story was too juicy--and too obvious--to ignore.

Since assuming office in 2008, Robertson has enjoyed a relatively free ride in the media. Due to scant coverage of city hall (outside the Courier, of course) and Robertson's carefully crafted image as an environmental altruist with a missionary love for homeless people, his handsome face has remained unscarred.

Until the microphone gaffe. And then last week, more trouble. According to several media reports, Robertson, the fanatic cyclist and chief architect of Vancouver's ever-growing bicycle infrastructure, blew through a red light on Dunsmuir Street, cutting off a bus and epitomizing the selfish behaviour of Vancouver's worst cyclists.

Of course, these two incidents--the citizen slandering and the red light run--on their own mean little. But combined they reinforce what some have suspected all along. The mayor is supremely arrogant, and probably a little dim. And when shaping public policy and spending taxpayer cash, those traits matter. Big time.

If you followed Robertson on the '08 campaign trail, you know what I mean. His campaign speeches were empty fluffy things that hung in the air momentarily before disappearing forever. Follow-up questions were countered with meaningless platitudes, and while all politicians deal in talking points, candidate Robertson took the art of nothingness to a whole new level.

Now safely in office, Robertson rarely speaks off-script and grants few interviews. Compared to his two most recent mayoral predecessors--Sam Sullivan and Larry Campbell--Robertson is virtually invisible and unaccountable, hiding behind a wall of partisan councillors charged with explaining policy and taking blame. He's a plastic leader with a sneering disdain for public consultation and media participation--two prerequisites to a healthy democracy.

Robertson, a former NDP MLA in Vancouver-Fairview, also benefits from his supposed ideology and a deep-seated media bias. If he leaned right of the political spectrum, Robertson's intelligence--or lack thereof--would be part of an unfavourable media narrative.

But give him credit. While raised in money (son of a corporate lawyer, stepson of a wealthy San Francisco businessman) and blessed with perfect timing (an environmentalist who rode a populist green wave into the mayor's chair), he's yet to spoil the ride. He's smart enough to surround himself with smart people with money. For example: Joel Solomon, the progeny of wealthy mall developers from Tennessee. In 1995, Solomon invested in Robertson's fledgling Happy Planet juice company, liked the cut of Gregor's jib, and eventually helped bankroll Robertson's successful 2005 MLA bid and his '08 run for mayor. According to Vision Vancouver records released last week, despite Robertson's indignant public calls for campaign finance reform, the party raised more than $433,000 since March 2009, including thousands from Solomon's private equity firm.

Robertson must wonder at his luck every now and then--when hiding under his desk at city hall or during late night hours inside his renovated heritage home off Oak Street, peering into a glowing laptop, twittering whatever synaptic spasm wafts through his brain. In those private moments he also likely conjures thoughts of grandeur. Victoria. Ottawa. And beyond.

And who can blame him. At 45, he owns an impressive resume. While issues may puzzle, Robertson's sure of a few things. He's better than you. They know better than us. And being mayor is easy if you don't think too hard. "My style is to empower people around me," said Robertson, during a Courier interview last summer. "I'm a team player and I like to see people use their strengths. There's so many big issues the city has to deal with and I can't take all that on."