Trinity Bellwoods Park is but a shell of its former self these days, physically speaking at least. Back in the very early 1900s, it was the home of Trinity College, Garrison Creek Ravine and the Crawford Street Bridge, but those iconic city landmarks have long since been relocated or buried. Similarly, the community’s style has seen many iterations, from the dignified dress code of the well-to-do residents occupying beautiful Victorian homes in the early 1900s, to the humbler trappings of the working class community that followed in the 1960s. Today, when we think of Trinity Bellwoods, we think of slacker fashion: the jorts and jeans of a could-be hacky sack crew, a sunning beauty in a T-shirt and a plaid-shirted and barefoot acoustic guitar–playing dude with his bohemian babe. And that’s exactly what we found, with the exception of a few new characters: a fashionable jock, a hula hooper and a hot pin-up goth mom taking care of her adorable child (the park is still a family-friendly space, despite the number of empties produced daily in the summertime).
For some, the park itself can be a cash cow, as long as the cops aren’t around: beer can collectors troll the grounds, hiding their eyes and head from the sun with practical brimmed hats and sunglasses. Others take the opportunity to get some sun, and despite the lack of an outdoor swimming pool, we spotted a smattering of park inhabitants wearing just a bathing suit and a smile (it’s certainly a brave choice in conservative Toronto). Ultimately, Bellwoods is an inclusive environment, and while it isn’t rare to see groups of friends stake out a spot with a blanket in tow, there aren’t any clique-based rivalries to report—an older European gentleman in a conservative button-up, an all-gay birthday fête with party hats and matching Popsicles and a shirtless frisbee-throwing sporto all seem to live in harmony.