Angie’s Angle | Kensington Market Story

Kensington by any other name would smell as strange. From the wafting Nag Champa to the pungent salt cod, the cocktail of smells hits you first. In the summer, there’s the scent of too-ripe stone fruit that’s rolled into the gutter, and hints of what’s cooking behind the brick facades — chalupas, greasy burgers, Belgian waffles — slap you in the face, one after another.

But it’s not just the smells; this place is a head-spinning super-sensory experience, as vivid and punchy as it comes. Here, everything counts. The gritty bits are just as important as the bright and happy things.

 

 

Surface tension

Wikipedia tells me that a certain Robert Fulford famously stated, “Kensington today is as much a legend as a district…has probably been photographed more often than any other site in Toronto.” You said, it Bob. But while the communal circus is captivating, it begs the question: is Kensington more like a sideshow or the main attraction?

With crumbling laneways and peeling street art, this chock-a-block neighbourhood can be raw and unapologetic, but it’s never disappointing. Kensington Market is a “what you see is what you get” sort of place…until you poke through the dark doorways. Here’s my take on its virtues — and vices — for what it’s worth.





The parked park

Do you know the Garden Car? The lump of living junk at the corner of Augusta and Oxford that’s possibly the most photographed thing in Toronto’s most photographed neighbourhood? It happens to be Toronto’s smallest park, and the nature-over-concrete symbolism is hard to miss.

Once, people had to physically feed the meter to keep it there; now it’s designated as a public art installation, so the caretakers can save their quarters. But the park is not as rooted as it might have you believe. Today’s car isn’t the original Garden Car, and each November it rolls out of the neighbourhood for the winter (a stipulation from the city).

The original artists have moved on, but the tradition is joyfully maintained by locals who’ve taken the up torch. Call me a cynic, but while the sprouting sedan makes a statement, is it really any match for a car-first city like Toronto?

Stroll freely…sometimes

In Toronto, cars, people, and bikes are always jostling for space. That conflict comes to a head in Kensington Market, when about a thousand people, several hundred bicycles, and a gaggle of strollers spill into the tight streets to reduce the horn-honking maniacs to a crawl. I say let ‘em crawl.

I applaud anyone who cycles through the terrifying gauntlet that is Toronto’s core, because the cars around here tend to take over. Pedestrian Sundays are when they finally take a backseat to people, but while these summer days sans autos are fun, they also serve as a reminder that carefree walking is a treat rather than a right.

I’d argue that the free living and free moving — the sheer freedom — of Kensington should force cars to compensate every day, to go a few blocks out of their way and let the people beat their drums and hock their wares in peace. With a little more asphalt to tread, we could all get where we’re going, buy what we’re seeking, and generally coexist more gently in this little space.

I applaud anyone who cycles through the terrifying gauntlet that is Toronto’s core, because the cars around here tend to take over.






Kitsch is still kool, right?

Vintage clothing stores and Kensington Market go together like peanut butter and jelly. I used to visit the Victorian row houses on Kensington Avenue as a teenager to curate a carefully undone look, as was the style, and linger in the musty rooms. Many of those leather and polyester-clad shops are still there today, but there are some new kids on the block. And they come from money.

Bungalow sits at the north end of Augusta, and it’s put a shiny new face to vintage. As Toronto real estate grows more precious and rents edge up, there’s less room for deadstock and silver bangles and more room for teak consoles. Vintage shopping here, like in other neighbourhoods, is slipping into the mid-century-modern zeitgeist nicely.

As Toronto real estate grows more precious and rents edge up, there’s less room for deadstock and silver bangles and more room for teak consoles.

Although it’s easy to scowl at the rise of pricey kitsch, one wonderful Market feature has come of our hard flirtation with the Atomic Age, and that’s Cosmic Treats. This isn’t just another vegan cafe — they put their money where their mouth is, serving up some of the best cake and crumbly delights in the city with a cutesy malt-shop vibe.

Don’t believe me? Try a slice of the chocolate peanut butter cheesecake and call me in the morning. This cake has changed lives. It’s enough to keep me fighting the crowds, dodging the cars, and holding my breath past the fish stands. But who’s kidding who? Whatever the future brings to the neighbourhood, there will always be a reason to take a detour down Augusta, cut through Bellevue Park, and loiter in the glow of Kensington Marketness. There’s just no substitute for it.