ROBERT KERTESZ
Jul 26, 2026
I recall a time when Mr paul kalman had a store that sold jeans on the plaza in the 1970’s
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--°C|Sunday, September 6, 2026
Half the world shops, eats, and hustles on 1.2 kilometres of Montreal streetscape.
July 23, 2026 · 3 min read
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On paper, Plaza St-Hubert is 1.2 kilometres of Saint-Hubert Street between Jean-Talon and Bellechasse, but measured any other way and it's much grander.
On summer afternoons, its sidewalks below a glass canopy carry half the world: women in Ghanaian wax-print dresses shop for groceries; street hawkers sell empanadas, tacos, and bags of chicharrones de harina; discount racks are weighed down in tops sold for as little as $5 apiece; a busker operatically belts Italian love songs from a bench next to a store specializing in cowboy boots; open-air manicure stations tend to hands; windows are full of wigs, tulle, and satin.
This is a place that’s spent decades brewing, fermenting, settling, and crystallizing into what it is today. That's the real story of the Plaza and its Société de développement commercial as it turns 45 this year. The street it stewards has never looked more like the city it belongs to.
The Plaza works like a living timeline of Montreal immigration, with layers upon layers overlapping. The French-speaking, working-class strip of the postwar decades is still here in the pink neon of Le Roi du Smoked Meat, glowing at dusk. The Lebanese, Syrian, and Egyptian families who built the bridal and formalwear trade still anchor whole blocks of gilded storefronts of cursive signage. The Latin American wave gave the street its quinceañera boutiques, its groceries like Sabor Latino, and spots like Place Juárez, where tamale, raspado, and $4 champurrado weigh down folding tables.
Half the world shops, eats, and hustles on 1.2 kilometres of Montreal streetscape.
July 23, 2026 · 3 min read
The Main is reader-supported. Subscriptions are what keep us independent. Five dollars a month — the restaurants, the guides, the weekly bulletin, and what to do each weekend. Support us today.
Branded content
This is branded content, made possible by a vetted partner.
Presented by
Discover the places mentioned in this story
On paper, Plaza St-Hubert is 1.2 kilometres of Saint-Hubert Street between Jean-Talon and Bellechasse, but measured any other way and it's much grander.
On summer afternoons, its sidewalks below a glass canopy carry half the world: women in Ghanaian wax-print dresses shop for groceries; street hawkers sell empanadas, tacos, and bags of chicharrones de harina; discount racks are weighed down in tops sold for as little as $5 apiece; a busker operatically belts Italian love songs from a bench next to a store specializing in cowboy boots; open-air manicure stations tend to hands; windows are full of wigs, tulle, and satin.
This is a place that’s spent decades brewing, fermenting, settling, and crystallizing into what it is today. That's the real story of the Plaza and its Société de développement commercial as it turns 45 this year. The street it stewards has never looked more like the city it belongs to.
The Plaza works like a living timeline of Montreal immigration, with layers upon layers overlapping. The French-speaking, working-class strip of the postwar decades is still here in the pink neon of Le Roi du Smoked Meat, glowing at dusk. The Lebanese, Syrian, and Egyptian families who built the bridal and formalwear trade still anchor whole blocks of gilded storefronts of cursive signage. The Latin American wave gave the street its quinceañera boutiques, its groceries like Sabor Latino, and spots like Place Juárez, where tamale, raspado, and $4 champurrado weigh down folding tables.
Welcome to The Main's comments section!
Share your thoughts and join the conversation. Please be respectful and constructive.
I recall a time when Mr paul kalman had a store that sold jeans on the plaza in the 1970’s
On paper, Plaza St-Hubert is 1.2 kilometres of Saint-Hubert Street between Jean-Talon and Bellechasse, but measured any other way and it's much grander.
On summer afternoons, its sidewalks below a glass canopy carry half the world: women in Ghanaian wax-print dresses shop for groceries; street hawkers sell empanadas, tacos, and bags of chicharrones de harina; discount racks are weighed down in tops sold for as little as $5 apiece; a busker operatically belts Italian love songs from a bench next to a store specializing in cowboy boots; open-air manicure stations tend to hands; windows are full of wigs, tulle, and satin.
This is a place that’s spent decades brewing, fermenting, settling, and crystallizing into what it is today. That's the real story of the Plaza and its Société de développement commercial as it turns 45 this year. The street it stewards has never looked more like the city it belongs to.
The Plaza works like a living timeline of Montreal immigration, with layers upon layers overlapping. The French-speaking, working-class strip of the postwar decades is still here in the pink neon of Le Roi du Smoked Meat, glowing at dusk. The Lebanese, Syrian, and Egyptian families who built the bridal and formalwear trade still anchor whole blocks of gilded storefronts of cursive signage. The Latin American wave gave the street its quinceañera boutiques, its groceries like Sabor Latino, and spots like Place Juárez, where tamale, raspado, and $4 champurrado weigh down folding tables.
More recently, Maghrebi and West African merchants have added brochette grills and beauty-supply rows to the fabric, while all manner of Vietnamese phở houses, Thai kitchens, and French expat bars keep lunch crowds fed. The newest arrivals of young Montreal entrepreneurs bring natty wine and bins of vinyl with them. The crowds here are only growing.
Stand in front of Mercado del Pueblo and you can watch it all overlap in real time. Peppers at a dollar a pound, limes twenty for five, papayas stacked next to avocados, handwritten signs in French pricing produce for a clientele that shops in Spanish, Creole, Arabic, and English. Inside, a kid in a dinosaur t-shirt waits in line with his family while a TV above the register plays a DJ set. Next door: a currency exchange where families can send wages home and exchange in crypto, a TV repair shop, and the Psychic Mahendra dealing in tarot and palmistry.
Retail holds the experience here together, people face-to-face with their neighbours. There’s no doubt a low hum of e-commerce in the background of some of these shops, but the majority of the Plaza’s wheelings and dealings still happens at speaking distance. It’s no doubt why the street feels alive in a way no mall or online marketplace ever will.
The Plaza's upcoming programming is a resounding celebration of its 45th anniversary, giving Montrealers one reason after another to come explore what's on offer. From August 20 to 23, La Rentrée sur la Plaza—now in its third year—turns the old rhythms of a back-to-school sidewalk sale into almost a street party, this time under a Latino banner with concerts, DJ sets, and mural work from La Féria Latina.
Whatever you come for, the street will take care of you.
On paper, Plaza St-Hubert is 1.2 kilometres of Saint-Hubert Street between Jean-Talon and Bellechasse, but measured any other way and it's much grander.
On summer afternoons, its sidewalks below a glass canopy carry half the world: women in Ghanaian wax-print dresses shop for groceries; street hawkers sell empanadas, tacos, and bags of chicharrones de harina; discount racks are weighed down in tops sold for as little as $5 apiece; a busker operatically belts Italian love songs from a bench next to a store specializing in cowboy boots; open-air manicure stations tend to hands; windows are full of wigs, tulle, and satin.
This is a place that’s spent decades brewing, fermenting, settling, and crystallizing into what it is today. That's the real story of the Plaza and its Société de développement commercial as it turns 45 this year. The street it stewards has never looked more like the city it belongs to.
The Plaza works like a living timeline of Montreal immigration, with layers upon layers overlapping. The French-speaking, working-class strip of the postwar decades is still here in the pink neon of Le Roi du Smoked Meat, glowing at dusk. The Lebanese, Syrian, and Egyptian families who built the bridal and formalwear trade still anchor whole blocks of gilded storefronts of cursive signage. The Latin American wave gave the street its quinceañera boutiques, its groceries like Sabor Latino, and spots like Place Juárez, where tamale, raspado, and $4 champurrado weigh down folding tables.
More recently, Maghrebi and West African merchants have added brochette grills and beauty-supply rows to the fabric, while all manner of Vietnamese phở houses, Thai kitchens, and French expat bars keep lunch crowds fed. The newest arrivals of young Montreal entrepreneurs bring natty wine and bins of vinyl with them. The crowds here are only growing.
Stand in front of Mercado del Pueblo and you can watch it all overlap in real time. Peppers at a dollar a pound, limes twenty for five, papayas stacked next to avocados, handwritten signs in French pricing produce for a clientele that shops in Spanish, Creole, Arabic, and English. Inside, a kid in a dinosaur t-shirt waits in line with his family while a TV above the register plays a DJ set. Next door: a currency exchange where families can send wages home and exchange in crypto, a TV repair shop, and the Psychic Mahendra dealing in tarot and palmistry.
Retail holds the experience here together, people face-to-face with their neighbours. There’s no doubt a low hum of e-commerce in the background of some of these shops, but the majority of the Plaza’s wheelings and dealings still happens at speaking distance. It’s no doubt why the street feels alive in a way no mall or online marketplace ever will.
The Plaza's upcoming programming is a resounding celebration of its 45th anniversary, giving Montrealers one reason after another to come explore what's on offer. From August 20 to 23, La Rentrée sur la Plaza—now in its third year—turns the old rhythms of a back-to-school sidewalk sale into almost a street party, this time under a Latino banner with concerts, DJ sets, and mural work from La Féria Latina.
Whatever you come for, the street will take care of you.
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Apple TV’s Cold War action comedy finds unexpected warmth, one enormous laugh and a compelling reason it belonged in theatres.
Ahead of four Montreal shows, the Daily Show correspondent is turning the summer camp he never had into his most ambitious production yet.
The Montreal photographer has built an archive around a recurring impulse: preserving what may soon be gone.
End-of-summer bashes, open-air roller disco, over 200 corgis on the Main, and more: September 3 to 6, 2026
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Bart Layton's sleek crime thriller starring Chris Hemsworth, Mark Ruffalo, and Halle Berry isn't reinventing the genre. That's a good thing.
Tanneries, train tracks, and a Restaurant Row: a neighbourhood guide to Montreal's hardest-working quarter.
Years of tavernas, bouzouki nights, and freddo coffee joints have left traces that remain to this day.
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Philippe Spurrell keeps rare prints out of dumpsters while Robert Miniaci reinvents the projectors that screen them. Together, they're proving the old ways still have life in Montreal.
Montreal’s final full month of summer moves from Pride and island festivals to street parties, elite tennis, and a citywide look back at its Olympic past.
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I recall a time when Mr paul kalman had a store that sold jeans on the plaza in the 1970’s