Last month in Toronto I hurriedly passed the Gladstone Hotel on Queen Street West, grabbing a few photographs of its beautiful facade. I neither had the time to stop and peek inside nor did I understand its cultural and community significance. But now, thoroughly ensconced in a Tweet-filled universe, I have reveled in hearing about all the events and activities that regularly emanate from the space. This trip, instead of passing by, Husband and I grabbed a room.
The Gladstone fosters and supports a healthy micro economy which drives healthy development, small business, light industry, cultural work and good times! The hotel strives to maintain a broad community-based clientele and showcases a diverse array of events. It is a place where local artists exhibit their work and perform and more importantly a place where artists and regular neighbourhood patrons come just to hang out.
I remember being young and single and falling in love with the hosteling experience while traveling Australia, Europe and North America. Yes, it was relatively inexpensive, which was part of the draw. But I remember the biggest selling feature was the promise of random meet-ups with like-minded people, often in funky, hand-crafted, art-filled buildings. It held the promise of meeting one’s tribe in the middle of the great unknown. Then I grew up and got married, had a gaggle of squids and started staying in generic chains when we weren’t off camping. There’s a thin veneer of promise in those chains that never materializes and always leaves me peevish. It’s possible to be surrounded by people – living next door to them really – and have absolutely no contact or any meaningful connection with the physical surroundings. Perhaps many people like living in a predictable bubble and enjoy that hands-off anonymity. I just don’t happen to be one of them.
My sense of the Gladstone – and I mean this in the best possible way – is that it is a hostel for grown-ups. It’s like an extension of the house I imagine having, like the salon concept come to life, with unique people eating, drinking, playing and discussing, ideas flowing in and out and swirling all around. The colours are warm, the woodwork old, the surfaces chock-a-block with multimedia works of art and design. The staff behave like engaged human beings not deferential automatons waiting for a tip. It’s all so relaxing and normal. I briefly considered going downstairs in my pajamas for my leisurely breakfast and, although I decided to dress, I want to believe that no one would really have minded.
According to their website, the Gladstone Hotel is the oldest continuously operating hotel in Toronto. It began its life as upscale lodging to accommodate train visitors arriving at the now-defunct Parkdale rail station across the street. The Gladstone has always been a family-run enterprise. Susanna Robinson, the original owner and widow, lived there with her thirteen children. The hotel passed through a number of private hands and was subjected to a variety of physical alterations. It slid slowly into disrepair and was ‘slumlorded’ for nearly four decades, until the Zeidler family bought it in 2000. In 2003 Christina Zeidler began work on the physical refurbishment of the building and the community development aspects of the project. She describes how she worked to ensure that the remaining tenants were found suitable lodging and much-needed social support services in the area, a neighbourhood deep in the throes of gentrification. The bones of the building were restored, the services upgraded, and the thirty-seven rooms designed and decorated by a variety of local artists. The renovations were completed in 2005 and the Gladstone, once again, took its place as a thriving community anchor for the Parkdale neighbourhood.
We were lodged in Room 303, the Red Room (or the ‘REDRUM’ as I joked in my best Jack Nicholson voice), designed by Kate Austin and Kristin Ledgett of RUCKUS. It was, all at once, intimate, stylish and homey. Click here to peruse all of the ‘Classic’, ‘Gimme More’ rooms and ‘Sweet’ suites. In a strange small-world occurrence on Friday, I ended up eating downtown at the bar of the Queen Mother Cafe, corralling the only empty chair in the whole lunch-packed place. Apparently, as I would find out while researching this entry, I had seated myself next to Andrew Jones, an award-winning architect-turned-furniture/lighting-designer. Turns out he was the co-designer of Room 312 (Re:Fresh). And, as I would also figure out, I had transacted with Kate Austin, half of my room’s design team, when I made an early Christmas purchase at her shop The Knit Cafe that same day. Even in such a large city, this small hotel is obviously succeeding as a magnet of art, design and culture.
Rooms and suites from $165 to $475 per night.
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