Traffic in the Greater Toronto Area, particularly downtown, has become so horrendous in recent years that it’s a challenge to go anywhere either by car or public transit without wanting to slit your wrists. I avoid going downtown whenever possible, but when the occasion is a childhood friend’s 79th birthday, it’s worth the hassle.

For my big trip downtown, I was fortunate enough to snag a seat on the subway at Kipling Station, which took me all the way to the Bay Street Station. When I emerged through a passageway from Cumberland Street into the sunlight at 110 Bloor Street West, I stood for a few minutes take in the atmosphere and indulge in a trip down memory lane. I found myself recalling when I started work for EllisDon in 1971 at 130 Bloor Street West, across from The Colonnade. I lived on Alexander Street back then, (one block north of Maple Leaf Gardens) and walked to work. The Bloor Street area was my neighbourhood, my stomping ground when I was in my twenties.

My friend and I arranged to meet for afternoon tea at the lovely old Windsor Arms Hotel on St. Thomas Street. Located in old familiar territory near Bloor and Bay, The Windsor Arms is a lovely old anomaly, nestled discreetly among towering new high-rise glass and steel office buildings and condos. As we walked to the hotel, my friend and I both realized that all of our familiar old landmarks had disappeared. No more teeny BackStage movie theatre; no more Georg Jensen, no more Stollery’s Men’s Wear, no Roy Rogers burger joint on the southeast corner of Yonge and Bloor, no more David’s Shoes at Bloor and Bay Street —in fact, that entire northwest corner was under construction, awaiting a new high-end tenant.

In the seventies, Holt Renfrew’s much more modest original flagship store was next door to our offices at 130 Bloor West, and the lobby of our building was occupied by Air Canada, Druxy’s Deli, and a Bank of Nova Scotia. There was even a door from the lobby of our building into Holt Renfrew. Our fifth-floor offices overlooked Levinter’s Furniture on the east side of the building, and the Project Managers with window offices delighted in watching a certain young lady sunbathe topless on Levinter’s roof at lunch time. Somehow, I doubt she frequented The Christian Science Reading Room, a couple of doors further east along Bloor Street.

The Colonnade was home to various little jewelry shops, Edna Schwartz Fashions, a fine leather shop, Kingsway Drugs, and a little boutique called Elle, that I couldn’t afford to shop in but dreamed of one day being able to. Shoe stores, Sportables, Talbot’s, fast fashion, jewelry shops, specialty lunch stops and restaurants like The Copenhagen Room dotted the neighbourhood. Walking Bloor Street was an adventure. There were several art galleries in The Colonnade, including the famous photographer Yousuf Karsh’s gallery on the second floor.

In the early 70s there was still an old Woolworth’s or Kresgie’s (I can’t remember which) on the north side of Bloor where Holt Renfrew now stands. On days when I was feeling particularly fat (at 118 lbs. –  ha!), I would walk down to their lunch counter and order their special weight control meal. It cost $1.25 and consisted of a single fried hamburger pattie, a scoop of cottage cheese, and half a sweet syrupy peach from a can. There might have even been a dill pickle on the side. I guess the only way you could lose weight on that selection would be if you didn’t eat anything at all.

Once upon a time in the seventies and eighties, another girlfriend and I would take a day off work once a year to “do” Bloor Street. We’d start at Avenue Road, explore Hazelton Lanes end-to-end and top-to-bottom, meander along Yorkville and Cumberland Streets, zig-zagging back and forth. We would stroll through Old York Lane hitting as many fun and interesting shops as we could cram in. Who remembers the quirky fountain constructed of old water faucets on the wall in Old York Lane? We’d wander back to Bloor Street, covering first the north side, including The Hudson’s Bay Store’s second floor, and back along the south side, with a stop somewhere along the way for a stylish lunch and some girl-talk.

In those days, the Dress For Success fad was just getting started, and we invested heavily in capturing the look. Sexy stilettos, silk blouses, and linebacker shoulder pads were all the rage, and we embraced every trend with enthusiasm. Leather pants, artsy jewelry from KSP in Hazelton Lanes, power suits—we wore them all. Shops like Your Choice, Alton Lewis, Talbot’s, Towne Shoes, Holt Renfrew, Creed’s, and Harry Rosen For Women offered both upscale and affordable fashions for working boomer gals. Capezio Shoes had funkier styles, and the Jones of New York line at Hudson’s Bay could always be counted on for affordable, attractive business suits for boomer gals.

Going back even further into the sixties, I remember a lovely store called Harridges—apparently the name was derived from combining classy London institutions, Harrod’s and Claridges. Located on the south side of Bloor, that’s where I bought a full-length dress for the Ryerson Blue & Gold Prom in 1966.  My satin heels were dyed to match my dress. After all that expenditure I was broke, so my gloves and white fox stole were rented for the weekend from Syd Silver on Yonge Street. I had my hair done at a little shop on the west side of Yonge a few doors north of Bloor, next to The Nut House, and across from Albert Britnell Book Store. All have since been replaced by tall glass towers.

And, who can forget all those back-and-forth strolls along a packed Yorkville Avenue on Friday and Saturday nights in the sixties, passing by all the hippies sitting outside The Riverboat, The Purple Onion, The Penny Farthing and other little clubs fashioned from a few old Victorian houses still remaining on the street? I loved browsing Marilyn Brooks’s Unicorn for offbeat fashion inspiration, where the incense and various objects d’art represented a lifestyle I only aspired to.

There was a seniors’ residence near 70 Yorkville, and on warm summer evenings, all the residents would sit out front in their webbed lawn chairs watching the baby boomers and hippies parade by. We’re now their age and probably have our own version of doing the same thing somewhere else, while making derisive comments about how young people dress these days.

Bloor Street has gentrified over the years and is now bereft of affordable fashion. When I emerged into the sunlight at 110 Bloor Street, the first person I encountered was a middle-aged lady emerging from Hermès carrying a shopping bag from Burberry, another from Dior, and sporting a pink Yves Saint Laurent cross-body bag. What on earth do these people do for a living to afford such luxury in one shopping spree? Was she a remarkably successful businesswoman, or one who simply married well?

These days, Bloor Street is wall-to-wall exclusive luxury shops: Prada, Dior, Chanel, Burberry, Gucci, Van Cleef & Arpels, and others. As I window-shopped along the street, I found I experienced none of the old enthusiasm I once did. I found it boring and irrelevant which probably labels me as boring and irrelevant. Ordinary people like me are no longer the target market along the ritzy Bloor Street strip between Yonge and Avenue Road.

As my friend and I enjoyed our afternoon tea ritual at The Windsor Arms alongside the elite “ladies who lunch” (which we are not), we reminisced about how much the neighbourhood had changed and how unrecognizable it is now from the days when we patrolled as young boomers in the sixties and seventies in the days of CCR, The Kinks, The Beatles, Buffalo Springfied, and so many others.

Life goes on with or without us, and change is inevitable. The question is: Do we like the new Bloor Street better than the old Bloor Street we were familiar with and frequented fifty-odd years ago? The answer is probably No, but that doesn’t mean it’s better or worse—just different. And so are we, but we thoroughly enjoyed puttin’ on the Ritz for an afternoon. We have a full year to save up for tea at The Four Seasons perhaps? Looking forward to it.