No more window displays. No more last-minute shoppers trying to catch a “One-Day Sale.” Just silence—and dust-covered signs that read Everything Must Go.
Hudson’s Bay is officially closed.
But as I stand in front of this iconic building—once the crown jewel of downtown Toronto—I still feel the weight of history. Like the ghost of retail past refusing to leave.
When I first arrived in Canada, there were three names you’d always see in the malls: Eaton’s, Sears, and The Bay.
Sears was where we got our first credit card. Eaton’s was where we bought Christmas gifts. And The Bay? It felt a little fancier—but still had sales if you timed it right.
Now, all three are gone.
One by one, the giants of Canadian retail collapsed. Victims of e-commerce, economic shifts, and a pandemic that changed how people shop. It’s like watching the pillars of an old country slowly crumble.
Long before it became a department store, before cash registers and perfume counters, Hudson’s Bay was a fur trading empire.
It was founded in 1670—that’s over 150 years before Canada even became a country.
With a royal charter from Britain, the Hudson’s Bay Company once owned what they called Rupert’s Land—nearly half of modern-day Canada. They built trading posts along rivers and forests. Communities grew around those outposts. Towns became cities. Commerce became identity.
HBC didn’t just sell goods. It helped build a nation.
In March 2025, Hudson’s Bay filed for creditor protection. By June, it was over. The last 96 stores were shut down. Over 8,000 workers laid off.
A 355-year legacy—folded like an old receipt.
The brand name might survive under new ownership. Leases might be taken over. But the Hudson’s Bay we knew? That story’s done.
I don’t know what replaces it, More apps? More warehouses? Same-day delivery, but no soul?
What I do know is this: while sitting on the steps of this now-empty building, there was a sadness I couldn’t shake.
Because sometimes, stores are more than places where you buy things.
Anjo Pallasigui
The Bay: End of an Empire
by Anjo
It’s quiet on Queen Street.
No more window displays. No more last-minute shoppers trying to catch a “One-Day Sale.” Just silence—and dust-covered signs that read Everything Must Go.
Hudson’s Bay is officially closed.
But as I stand in front of this iconic building—once the crown jewel of downtown Toronto—I still feel the weight of history. Like the ghost of retail past refusing to leave.
When I first arrived in Canada, there were three names you’d always see in the malls: Eaton’s, Sears, and The Bay.
Sears was where we got our first credit card.
Eaton’s was where we bought Christmas gifts.
And The Bay? It felt a little fancier—but still had sales if you timed it right.
Now, all three are gone.
One by one, the giants of Canadian retail collapsed. Victims of e-commerce, economic shifts, and a pandemic that changed how people shop. It’s like watching the pillars of an old country slowly crumble.
Long before it became a department store, before cash registers and perfume counters, Hudson’s Bay was a fur trading empire.
It was founded in 1670—that’s over 150 years before Canada even became a country.
With a royal charter from Britain, the Hudson’s Bay Company once owned what they called Rupert’s Land—nearly half of modern-day Canada. They built trading posts along rivers and forests. Communities grew around those outposts. Towns became cities. Commerce became identity.
HBC didn’t just sell goods. It helped build a nation.
In March 2025, Hudson’s Bay filed for creditor protection.
By June, it was over. The last 96 stores were shut down. Over 8,000 workers laid off.
A 355-year legacy—folded like an old receipt.
The brand name might survive under new ownership. Leases might be taken over.
But the Hudson’s Bay we knew? That story’s done.
I don’t know what replaces it, More apps? More warehouses? Same-day delivery, but no soul?
What I do know is this: while sitting on the steps of this now-empty building, there was a sadness I couldn’t shake.
Because sometimes, stores are more than places where you buy things.
Sometimes, they’re part of who we are.
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