The Bay. The title of this post alone could elicit so many different reactions. For pretty much anyone else on the planet, images of a lush green C-shaped harbour might spring to mind, with little fishing boats, pirate ships, or battleships gliding in and out of the vast open ocean.
For Canadians, however, the very mention of these two words likely hearken a few choice things: The ubiquitious fuddy-duddy department stores, Canadian History classes, terrible back-to-school clothes, fur-traders and canoes, senior discount days, beaverhats, and those hideous blankets.
Originally, I'd naïvely planned to post a little explanatory blurb about The Bay (truncated from "The Hudson's Bay Company") from Wikipedia here, but no. Oh, no. If there is any single entity that can essentially outline the whole of Canadian history from the time white man mistakenly got blown adrift these shores and wholly appropriated it from its indigenous inhabitants (that is, until residents of Hong Kong came and similarly appropriated Richmond from the white man) until about 75 years ago, it would have to be The Bay. If you're so inclined to read further about what is actually an incredibly fascinating topic, have at it for the entire entry. If you're not, don't worry; neither is about 85% of the eleventh grade Canadian high school population. (This whole Bay thing is just completely relevent background for the juicy stuff I'm about to show you.)
The Hudson's Bay Company (French: Compagnie de la Baie d'Hudson), abbreviated HBC, is the oldest commercial corporation in North America and one of the oldest in the world. The company was incorporated by British royal charter in 1670 as The Governor and Company of Adventurers of England trading into Hudson's Bay. Now domiciled in Canada and headquartered in the Simpson Tower in Toronto, it has legally adopted the more common shorter name.
It was once the de facto government in parts of North America before European-based colonies and states were established. It was at one time the largest landowner in the world, with Rupert's Land having 15% of North American acreage. From its longtime-headquarters at York Factory on Hudson Bay, the company controlled the fur trade throughout much of British-controlled North America for several centuries. Undertaking early exploration, its traders and trappers forged early relationships with many groups of First Nations/Native Americans. Its network of trading posts formed the nucleus for later official authority in many areas of Western Canada and the United States.
In the late 19th century, its vast territory became the largest component in the newly formed Dominion of Canada, in which the company was the largest private landowner. With the decline of the fur trade, the company evolved into a mercantile business selling vital goods to settlers in the Canadian West. Today the company is best known for its department stores throughout Canada. The Hudson's Bay Company Archives are located in Winnipeg, Manitoba.
The company is owned by Hudson's Bay Trading Company, the portfolio company of the United States private equity firm NRDC Equity Partners, which also owns Lord & Taylor, a high-end department store chain in the U.S.
Wikipedia
About a month ago, a bunch of friends and I went up to Victoria ~ in my home province of British Columbia ~ to celebrate a very close girlfriend's 40th birthday. My roommie, Golden GigGirl (or G3 for short) and I were up far earlier than the others and decided to duck out for coffee. Since she'd never been to Victoria before and was excited to do some exploring, I took her across town to my favourite hippie café. (My first time to The Solstice was a few years ago, when my brother brought me there to see a friend of his open a show for a fantastic Vancouver band, Maplewood Lane. What made the night even sweeter was that his friend had just gotten signed to Nettwerk Records, so this was her celebratory show.)
On the way to the Solstice, we walked by The Bay Department Store and I stopped, gaping. I thought they were all gone, kaput, closed down, victims to progress and ever-improving tastes. And there, in the window, were sleek Abercrombie and Fitch- styled mannequins with sunglasses, perky nipples on the female members, and Hudson's Bay blankets arranged artfully around each of them. It was amazing. G3 gazed at me with amused wonder, and I had to explain to her that Canadians ~ especially of our generation ~ have a clearly defined horror of Bay Blankets. All you could think of were massive, rough, itchy, heavy, stifling white wool rectangles with ugly stripes on them; it's almost as if Canadians couldn't suffer enough indignities with the beaver as our national mascot and the red-suited Mounties being our mighty protectors, but to add to the mix these dorky blankets, too. If anything could so perfectly complete the perfect 70s' basement rec room ~ what with fake wood panelling, orangey-brown shag carpeting, itchy polyester couch, and fading plastic-framed photographs of toothless, grinning hockey players ~ it would be the scungy and stained Bay blanket covering worn patches of sponge showing through the couch fabric. I'm not even joking. I found this classic depiction of the life of a Bay blanket without any effort off Google:
In short, Bay blankets traditionally make people who are not yet parents shudder.
However, The Bay's window display was undeniably fresh, funky, and shockingly quite sexy, and I was somewhat surprised at my changing reaction to the iconic stripes. To be honest, perhaps because I'm so used to feeling like a fish out of water as a Canadian living in the US, I was feeling strangely proud and patriotic about it.
After our coffee, G3 and I ambled quickly to meet up with the others for brunch (we got cozy, chatted too long, and ended up showing up a bit late, much to the consternation of others) at my brother's favourite restaurant in town, and it was stellar. The girls each couldn't decide which component of their dishes they enjoyed eating the most, and plate-swapping was rampant. At the end of the meal, as we were getting ready to leave, we looked around and caught sight of gallery-displayed artwork all around us on the walls, and I freaked out.
"Wait a second. Is that...? Are those...?!?"
And they were. The wee Canadienne in me couldn't help but experience little shivers of delight with each new little discovery.
Take a look. Most were framed with hockey sticks, bound with hockey tape.
*swooon*
In Latin, it reads, "He Shoots, He Scores."
Guess which ones I brought home for the family?
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