The Big Slice. Eggs Benedict for breakfast every January 1st. A soft leather mini skirt. Caesar salad at Mr. Greenjeans. A short silk housecoat with a dragon on the back. Dancing down the street while “Let’s Go Crazy” blared through my Walkman. All these memories came flooding back yesterday as I walked along Yonge Street in Toronto. In the ’70s and ’80s, Yonge Street held an attraction for me. Not because of the shops, but because of the juxtaposition of wealth and seediness in those days. Drugged-out people could be found hanging around in the doorways of businesses …






