An endless kitsch emporium. Image via Jeremy Schipper

Honest Ed’s is for sale, and that just ain’t right. 

A lot of residents have a childhood story involving the 65-year-old Toronto landmark – some of them good, some of them a bit more interesting. We decided to revisit the old bastard and make some new memories. What we found was more than just the grimy shell of a store that’s seen better days – it’s a store that embodies the boundless optimism of one Toronto immigrant, and the endless possibilities he might find here. 

We took to Ed’s with a shoestring budget of $20 each and proceeded to have all the feelings. 

Vidal Wu – 12 ft. of white plastic chain ($11.89)

I attended Central Tech high school right across the street, and it was an understood common rite of passage to shoplift from Honest Ed’s. It wasn’t a malicious thing – for a high school uncharacteristically full of commuters, it was our way of identifying with each other and the surrounding community. My trophy was only a pack of gum – I was scared, what did you expect – but that pack of gum was my badge of honour, that I was, in fact, a badass. 

If you’re looking for daring sartorial choices, Honest Ed’s is the way to go – where else could you find a rack of $15 leopard print dresses in pink, yellow, green and blue? One of each, please. I went the Etsy route and got my kicks in the hardware department, picking up 12 ft. of white plastic chain for $1/ft, which I’m planning to tie with a white ribbon. Luxurious, right? I wasn’t the only one delighted with my finds – as we were browsing the plastic-smelling shoe department, a woman yanked out a pair of ugly sandals and exclaimed, “I found it! Lord have mercy on my soul, I found it!” 

What struck me the most though, was the sheer breadth of the store’s modus operandi. No one’s too good to shop at Ed’s, because Ed’s is for everyone. The spirit of the man himself pervades the entire store. Makes you proud to be from Toronto, eh?

Photo via WILT

Farrah Khaled – Clubmaster sunglasses ($0.50)

Explaining Honest Ed’s to out-of-towners who have never seen the place is a little hard to do. First off, trying to describe how a crumbling bargain store stands in as a cultural landmark, telling stories of economic struggle and growth in the surrounding neighbourhood but is kind of a sad clown on first glance isn’t exactly a way to sell Honest Ed’s as a cool-dude place to hang. Yesterday, Honest Ed’s was the place where my parents, immigrants from Egypt, used to meet up as twenty-somethings on dates to score deals on tupperware and toothpaste – today, it’s mostly just a backdrop for trying-on-funny-hat montages from adventure-seeking school kids and wise-guy interns from certain digital publications. After rolling in yesterday with a $20 bill and feeling like the world (and every object in-store) was attainable, the significance of those low, low prices kind of hit me. Maybe it was that feeling that made me want to spend only 50 cents of that budget (it only cost 50 cents to get the coolest pair of sunglasses ever, so yeah, I’m the best at this).

Recently having moved to New York, I often regale my reluctant and offensively-patriotic American friends with tales of cool shit Toronto has to offer, like poutine and health care, gas stations that use the honour system, the use of a U in the word honour, and, without fail, the flashing circus lights and endless thrifing potential that is Honest Ed’s. It just made it’s way onto the same list as health care, people, so it’s a chunk of our identity and a pretty big factor in my argument expressed best by the words of my favourite Honest Ed’s sign: “Come visit our city! (was that too pushy?)”

Jeremy Schipper – Flashing BAR sign ($19.99)

Having never been inside Honest Ed’s before, I only knew the megastore from its iconic and flashy storefront. When the building kicks the can, I probably won’t miss the store itself, but will miss the store’s sign which has come to define the look and feel of the stretch of Bloor St. where it resides. When looking for my favorite Honest Ed’s item under $20, there was no way I could pass up on the flashy sign, which seemed like the most suitable way to commemorate the loveably seedy megastore. If only they sold Honest Ed’s, or Sam The Record Man light-up signs – they’d make a killing.

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