Is there anything grander than going on vacation to a beautiful city and going to said city’s most raddest shopping district, and coming home with not one but two crisp new shopping bags with one store having been so cool the lovely saleswoman gave you a tote bag instead of a shopping bag; and by the way you would have had three crisp new shopping bags except you were trying to be all kind to the earth and save a bag so you put your last purchase in one of the bags you already had?
Lucky for me I had one such grand weekend over Thanksgiving, when I went to Toronto for my cousin Miles’s Bar Mitzvah. I know, Bar Mitzvah, you’re thinking, BOH-riiiing. Well, I for one haven’t had this much fun at a Bar Mitzvah since I was ACTUALLY 13 and I could get amped enough on Shirley Temples to flirt with the boys from Hebrew class.
The weekend was great from beginning to end. And it got off to an especially great start Friday morning with a walk along the Queen Street West shopping area, which is the perfect blend of pretty and gritty.
The day started with a stop at Joe Fresh. It’s a Canadian company so I felt like I was soaking in some local color. I didn’t find anything but Mom did, so we left happy. Then, a stop for fuel at Arepa Cafe gave us enough energy for Shopping Day Phase 2.
Some stores were doing Black Friday sales which I thought was darling since Black Friday is really an American thing. Meg, which also has a store in my home borough, was doing 30% off for black items, so I bought a perfectly-draped basic black top since, can you really have too many black tops?
Finally, I found a blouse that was the answer to my dilemma of wanting an oversized blouse like the kind I wore circa 1985, but finding that the ones I try on make me look like a square. This one has drapey pockets that make the waist taper in just enough to give it some shape. I have already worn it two days in one week, which means I am in lovey love.
I learned a couple important things about shopping in Canada. One, is that people are SUPER nice. One girl offered to write out directions to the nearest subway; I expected her to jot down the name of the stations, she wrote an entire step-by-step instruction manual in full-on narrative to ensure I got home safely. The other, is that Canadian salespeople call dressing rooms “change rooms.” Could anything be more charming? I think not.
All in all a successful shopping trip. O Canada!