When I was a kid, somebody told me that Honest Ed’s, the beloved discount shop at Bathurst and Bloor, was visible from outer space. I believed this statement wholeheartedly. The place was so outlandish, with its whorls of coloured lights and labyrinthine interiors, that I might’ve believed anything about it.
I loved it, not only for its blingy, Vegas Strip charm, but also for what it represented. Its proprietor, Ed Mirvish, the son of a Kyiv shopkeeper, understood that salesmanship is indistinguishable from showmanship. He promoted store events by bringing in trombone-playing clowns or painting an elephant pink. With his mix of chutzpah and hucksterism, he embodied a mid-century, Jewish-immigrant sensibility. I came from people just like him.
In 2013, his son, David, an art collector with patrician tastes, sold…