the shop around the corner

Yesterday* I went to my favourite fabric store probably for the last time. It’s a relationship I’ve had since I moved back to Toronto in 1991. Yes it ebbed and flowed but it was always there and for a lot of years it really was the shop around the corner – and well down about 5 blocks.

I was emotional. In fact more emotional that I thought I’d be and I ended up hugging the clerk who had cut my 14 pieces of fabric when that emotion overcame me. I think I startled her too.

I started sewing as a teen. I am mostly self taught but one of the key factors to my success where a couple of women who ran a local fabric shop out of their husband’s sewing machine shop upstairs. In fact the entire family got me started. I bought my first new machine from them. The second hand one I got from a family friend wasn’t in any good shape so I saved to buy my first Janome at – no word of a lie – Sew and Save. But downstairs was where I flourished. With the Polka Dot as competition – think Fabricland size, they were just glad to have the customers. But they also took it upon themselves to nurture and encourage a 15 year old girl as she learned. I was brash at the beginning trying to copy designs from magazines without patterns. And doing an OK job, but dress straps would be mismatched, lopsided and sometimes things just didn’t work out. I graduated to patterns and learned as I went.

When I left the town of my youth for ‘the big city’ I found Designer Fabric Outlet as it was known then – it has since morphed into Designer Fabrics although I think they just cut the Outlet part off the famous orange sign.

Typical of a lot of Queen West West shops at the time the building was old, the sign was crooked and the inside crammed to the rafters. Perhaps left over from the 80s mantra that more was good. Downstairs was sample squares of upholstery fabric, every designer and wannabe in the city, along with their attitude and a most interesting trim shop. Upstairs though, upstairs was almost an afterthought of clothing fabric and soon my favourite place. At the time you couldn’t really see anything but if you asked for something specific they had it or something very close.

Through the times when I didn’t sew at all to the times when I needed to be inspired a jaunt down the way would feed my imagination and get the wheels going. When I was out of thread or needed a button there was a place to fill that need. Even when I moved all the way across the city I went back.

The last 'famous' list from DFO.

The internet let me know that DFO was closing. I decided to make the trek one last time. I had a rare weekday off and made plans. In the end I was called in to do a shift was a pushed my start time back so that I had time to make my trip. Walking in everything seemed as it always was except that everyone knew that wasn’t the case. The old man who owns the place with the beady eyes who watched everything and everyone was still in his chair, he’d migrated there a few years ago as I suspect age made it hard for him to stand all day. I went immediately upstairs as I always did casting an eye at the barrels at the bottom of the stairs. Upstairs I did what I always do. Headed to the knit area and started feeling fabric. Pulling out a bit here and there to see what the fabric weight was and what the texture and pattern looked like and then I started piling. It was quiet and I chatted with the staff a bit. Then when I was ready to start cutting a bird flew in. Just a typical city bird caught in a building after coming in through some old spot. It appeared to be a regular thing and the staff seemed to know how to deal with getting it out without hurting it but it meant killing the lights for a few minutes. And I think that’s when it started. Standing in the dark in this old building that I have frequented for years being forced to be still for a few minutes while they dealt with a bird that had just minutes ago flown so close to my face I felt the wind created by its wings on my face. An excited ‘we got it’ was heard, the lights came back on and the cutting resumed along with some chit chat with the clerk helping me. After all that I headed downstairs to pay and she helped me carry my piles of fabric. That’s when I hugged her, unexpectedly for both of us.

As I finished up my transaction and wished everyone there best of luck I realized that I was really leaving the last of my start in Toronto behind. I’d lived in Parkdale for 6 years and in nearby High Park for another 6 before heading east in the almost classic Toronto migration of life. I still go to High Park for a few things but this was the only reason I go to Parkdale. I waited for the 501 streetcar, outside the library and looked at the changed streetscape.

THAT orange bag.

‘End of an era’ seems to get tossed around a lot lately. We are in some sort of shift that from this vantage point does not seem good if you are at all artistically inclined. Part of that shift is an older generation ending their working lives and deciding not to sell or not finding anyone to sell to as the case may be. Part of it is an overreaching greed that fails to see how nurturing the arts does a city good and can only see the ‘value’ in commodity and real estate. Either way it makes it tough for those of us who find our creative outlet in doing something for ourselves. I wish I had a better way to end this except to say that my heart always does and will probably always do a little flutter when I see an orange shopping bag.



*I wrote this back in July. Since then I have also gone to the closing sale of the Fabricland at the Galleria Malls, where silliness also ensued. And there was a small design shop that closed and they cleared out fabric. I am absolutely swimming in it but access to decent fabric stores and other craft shops is a real issue.

the grinch who sold christmas

I recently wondered why the heck pimento was so popular in the 50’s and 60’s and a friend’s mother was kind enough to explain that really, it was so nice to have some colour to add to dishes. Remembering, of course, that it’s not that long ago that produce was bought when it was in season and then offered canned or frozen for the rest of the year - well you could buy something called a tomato out of season, but mostly it was a knotty, green, tasteless round thing that was called a ‘tomato’.

Fast forward to about a month ago. Back to school promotions started showing up at my local grocery and drugstore chains (incidentally owned by the same company now). Being neither a child or a parent I was still shocked. Sort of. I did a quick calculation. We were about 8 weeks out from the start of school. Back in my retail days you calculated about a 6 week start to the next big ‘holiday’ event so this sort of made sense. On the proverbial other hand, what kid wants to be reminded of school when vacation is only half way through!

While ranting about this on social media someone pointed out to me that Costco had Christmas out at that time too. Calculating again I pointed out that technically Costco is a wholesaler catering to retailers, so having Christmas gear out in July sort of made sense. Yes it seemed out of place, but for all those who remember the annoying reminder of the ‘Days until Christmas’ sign along the Don Valley Parkway in Toronto all those years; Christmas was always coming.

‘Life moves pretty fast’ and in a consumer driven market, the chase is always on to the next season. But start backing it up, to buyers, manufacturers, designers, colour specialists and really, they’re working in terms of 3 to 4 years ahead, so your 6 to 8 weeks is just the final piece of a very long chain that leads to you picking out that particular tomato red sweater for your bestie this Christmas.

At this point I’m pretty stoked that I managed to work a partial Ferris Bueller quote into a post. I also spent some time trying to track down an image of the old Days to Christmas sign on the DVP and fell into a vortex of old Eaton’s catalogue images and only just came back up for air.

Consumerism requires that we shop when the goods are available, but they’ve also taught us there’s a very slim yet attractive period of the end of season sale and the then not for the faint of heart end of season clearance. But if you leave it too long you’re just plain out of luck. Take it from me - the year my coat zipper busted in February was the year I learned to layer. Now like a good Canadian I didn’t have just one winter coat, but still. And I do know how to sew, so if I was really stuck. Okay, my point was, it’s tough finding a winter coat in February because we’re already into prime spring selling and we don’t wear winter coats in spring. Except maybe in most parts of Canada. Because, after all, all this is based on some sort of completely idealized image of season’s and needs. Now back to the catalogues. Which if they are to be believed - that Christmas of 1908 was one dark holiday.

This is not yer traditional red jolly Santa now is it?

I can't find a single image of the old Countdown to Christmas Sign on the DVP, but the bra page of old catalogues, no problem.

the oh boys of summer

I’m not the biggest fan of children. They require constant supervision, they stink, often they’re unable to deal with their own excrement but occasionally they’re fun. For 20 minutes or so. OK, I might be exaggerating. I’d say I’m more indifferent to children. But when I read articles like this, I’m suddenly an advocate.

Living in a city means noise. Cars, businesses, large vehicles, sirens, parades, the occasional party the spills into the streets because major event has happened, like winning a World Series game. But urban living means convenience, selection and people. It also means compromise. The more densely populated a city the greater the need for politeness, and the big problem with a city like Toronto is that we’re just not dense enough to not act stupidly from time to time.

I grew up on a street in transition. Of the 40 odd houses on our little stretch of street, there were 5 kids. Four of us hung out together for several years. We played ‘Star Wars’ (a sort of intergalactic yelling and hitting each other with sticks), we rode bikes, roller skates (back in the metal wheels days), skateboards and other noisy things with wheels, we yelled for no good reason and no one ever complained we made noise. Looking back it really seemed like we were the ipso facto grandchildren of the street.

Also, we always had access to freezies! Beat that.

Going back to Mr. Noisy Complaints Neighbour; why can’t kids be kids? I get it. Noise travels differently over water, But. If you’re that noise sensitive there is a place where you can exist almost silently. It’s called the country.

I live near a hospital, which does mean sirens. But it also means an emergency ward within walking distance. A couple times a week a refrigerator truck sits outside my window to deliver goods to the local convenience stores. Yes they’re loud but having not 1 but 2 convenience stores steps outside my house are worth so much more than complaining. But who do you think delivers this stuff? It’s not delivered by fairies.

I’m with the kids on this one. Summer is short. Yelling is fun. And if we’d had access to a backyard pool as kids, we would have been in there until we were pruney and mostly made of chlorine. Screaming and hitting each other with sticks all the live long day.

state of the uhf or how i accidentally started watching commercials again and it’s bad.

The off-shoot of having cord cut my cable, studied advertising and watching social media sweep up and encompass just about all existing models of ‘traditional’ media makes one, well me, hyper aware of what might be going on. During a recent online discussion with someone I know mostly through online discussions, we discussed that by and large, the traditional television advertising model hadn’t changed in over 70 years – although, in my opinion, we have two more generations to get through before the demand for change will eventually have to be met. Although in a weird twist, the modern product placement within TV shows reminds me of the early days of show sponsorship, so are we coming full circle?

However, off on a side bar, I’m all up to date with what my options for step-in bathtubs, stair hoists and reverse mortgages (for the house I was never able to afford) are! But, back on point, our discussion turned to how to determine the efficacy of popular social campaigns. Citing the Dear Kitten campaign by Purina, which I think is rather entertaining and did share on social media, but did it compel me to switch my cat to their food, well no. So how do we determine if this campaign was successful? I don’t actually know. The time tested success factor would come down to cold hard cash but is product recognition and a sense of community now more important? Again, I don’t actually know.

Any woman who wears make up knows there’s a new mascara introduced every week of a calendar year. One common thread through all mascara advertising - which is basically lifestyle advertising, because, really, it’s dirt to put on your lashes – is that the ideal achievement is a smooth, plump, lengthening clean lash, which if you want to look like the girl in the ad, means time consuming and expensive lash extensions. Maybelline’s new Chaos mascara eschews all that and suggests that theirs is the only mascara that will give you that clumpy, smudgy, mussed up look you didn’t know you were supposed to want. My current theory is that they have a warehouse full of the stuff and found it didn’t do so well in the test market tests - and if that’s the case, kudos to their marketing team. Also works on your boyfriend.

Swiss Chalet has, over the years, and mostly unsuccessfully, tried to expand their menu and thereby their customer base. In my personal opinion this has been a failing prospect. Why not embrace and do the thing you’re good at; consistently prepared rotisserie chicken with a potato product side, and that salty, addictive ‘industrial gravy’ that we call dipping sauce. The latest campaign centres around chicken wings, which oddly, Swiss Chalet is not very good at, and trying to make ‘the Chalet’ as cool as your local pub. And whenever I see the product shot of two men digging into their plate of wings, branded beer glasses in clear sight, I think those guys look whipped (and then I giggle.) Let’s face it, dudes are gonna go get wings and beers and they’re gonna do it at the local pub, or some chain that specializes in keeping sports on multiple screens, all the time. Not at Swiss Chalet.

Insert-car-manufacturer-here ad for getting Millennial’s into cars.  Millennial’s are not getting their driver’s license in record numbers, and don’t buy cars, or so do way less than previous generations. Also Millennial’s don’t watch TV!

Want to know where to get an overpriced payday loan? No amount of fuzzy mascot or purposely homemade looking ad will stop that fact that these people are charging you about 60% interest, and apparently not spending any more than they have to on the advertising budget.

The Fonz selling reverse mortgages. Just writing that makes me feel old. And I’m not even in the target demographic.

And finally, you heard it from the horse’s mouth. They may have cleaned up the Trivago guy, but he’s still sorta creepy. Even clean shaven and in a suit, but it might be the poor taste joke about getting ‘Lucky’ in a room.

see you at 7

Before there was texting and constant communication, making plans to meet was a bit more difficult and a lot less likely to end in no-shows. Before texts and constant communication, you met your friends when and where you said you would because you had no way to let them know you wouldn’t be arriving and not arriving made you an ass.

(Yes we had extenuating circumstances back then, but they were real, so they were rare.)

It’s amazing how quickly we forget the things that used to be day to day when their replacements arrive. We acclimate so well that we often forget what needed to happen before the latest tool or method replaces our old ones. And as much as I find modern communication amazing, I did get a kick out of this particular tidbit of social etiquette. In the same moment I was taken aback that someone had to write it down in a book because really, we should know this.

Be a good friend.  Just say Yes.  Or No.  (from Adulting)

To be fair it did make perfect sense when the MP3 player eclipsed the discman. I mean that thing sucked down disposable batteries, required either listening to the same CD over and over or trying to figure out how to carry a selection and it was kinda big – certainly didn’t fit in any pocket I have.

I recently read an article on the demise of pantyhose, which you might not know, specifically the flesh toned variety. They gained popularity pre World War 2, after a shift in foundation garment use and a rise in hemlines, and they really gained popularity after World War 2 because during the war all fabric supplies where used to make parachutes and the women were out of luck. Even my hippie-esque parents insisted that there were certain situations where hose were needed and tights wouldn’t do it. I even had a job in my 20’s that required hose as part of my uniform, and if I think hard about it, it was rather annoying as they required a blue hue that was not available at a low cost. Yes I didn’t have to buy clothes but did have a $20 a week pantyhose requirement, back when minimum wage was much more minimum. Having eschewed them since, I really didn’t notice that most department stores have slowly phased out their hosiery sections as styles changed. If the Duchess of Cambridge hadn’t been required to add hosiery to her official ‘look’, would anyone under 30 even know what they were? But 75 years was a good run for a fashion trend that wasn’t always so nice to wear. 

Anecdotally the codpiece had a 75 year run too.

OK, well I found it interesting.

After I read the pantyhose article I started to think about things that used to feel so essential to life that fell out of favour as trend or technology passed and may or may not have met their ultimate end. Records seemed to continue to have a strong solid following, but for the audiophile, there’s a sound quality that can’t be beat. CD’s continue to exist as people continue to insist on physical media but got rid of their record players. I haven’t seen a cassette in years. Well other than a handful I kept mostly for nostalgic reasons, most of which are homemade mixed tapes. Which I guess where replaced by playlists. But how do you give the person you’re crushing on a playlist?

Wristwatches is another one for me. I have three in a box on my dresser, and I’m fairly certain all three have dead batteries in them. In part the disuse was due to a cell phone and in part it was due to my constantly, accidentally leaving my watch on my desk at work because I took it off when it banged on the desk while I was typing. But it freed up my wrist for bracelets and I can always get the time on my phone. Yes the ‘smart’ technology has set their sights on a smart watch next, and since not everyone gave up on the watch, this’ll be a trend to ‘watch’! I don’t really see the point of the smart watch, but I’m in the minority I’m certain. In fact I had a discussion with a friend about this very subject and in her case she wears the same watch as a loved relation and finds it ties her emotionally to that relation whenever she looks at it. So in as much as the technology may be passé there are other, valid, reasons for hanging onto to something.

I still have an alarm clock, because I hate the idea of a phone in the bedroom. I do have a cassette player, but only because it’s part of my stereo. I still use pens because I like to do the suduko and the crossword in the newspaper on the weekend, which yes I still get on Saturdays and Sundays to read with coffee.

And what do we do every time this technology changes. Well for those of us who faithfully changed our music collections from records to cassettes to CD’s, we eventually stopped. Some of us hold yard sales or donate to charity. And the rest of hold onto whatever works for us until our favourite toys stop working. We all evolve at our own pace.

The other tidbit I liked from the same book. Which can also apply.