The 1980s were dominated by franchises. As a new, independent business, we hadn’t yet earned the trust of the public, which meant we had to find creative ways to get people through our doors.

Our signage was small, and the lettering for The Coffee Tree led to some amusing confusion. The “T” in “Tree” looked a bit like an “F,” and more than once, a clever elderly man would wander in asking if the coffee was free. As if coffee on Bloor Street could ever be free!

“Gonna get a goodie?” we’d ask customers as they scanned the counter for something sweet to pair with their coffee. Trays of lemon poppyseed muffins, Nanaimo bars, and Italian cannoli, carefully lit under bright halogen lights, were hard to resist.

On slow days (and there were many), we’d pull short espressos and head outside, offering tiny cups to drivers stopped at the traffic light. Surprisingly, there weren’t many takers. At the time, espresso had a reputation—too strong, too bitter, too unfamiliar.

So how did we market ourselves?

Our best tool was a simple sandwich board, hand-written in chalk on both sides. We thought we were brilliant with slogans like “Break Your Chain Habit Here” and “Cappy Hour Wednesdays 4–6pm.” We’d prop the front door open, without much concern for the weather or the environment, to make the space feel welcoming and visible.

Back then, a 6oz glass cup of filter coffee cost 70 cents, with refills for 30. The only milk we carried was 3.25% homogenized. Takeout cups were styrofoam, printed with our logo, lightweight, no sleeves required, with flat lids instead of domes. Iced coffee and Americanos weren’t part of the conversation yet. One of the only variations we offered was an Almond au Lait, made with Torani orgeat syrup, perhaps an early nod to the future popularity of almond milk.

Inside, the real magic happened around our Jabez Burns sample roaster, positioned right at the front of the shop. Guests would sit facing the roaster, watching, learning, and engaging as we worked. The sound of beans cracking, the rich aroma of fresh coffee, and the conversations that followed became our greatest draw.

We kept long hours, 7:30 a.m. to 11 p.m. on weekdays, and until midnight on weekends. We were even open on Sundays, when few others were.

At the counter, a Hoshizaki display case showcased fruit pies and creamy cheesecakes—perfect companions to coffee or cappuccino. At the time, it was unusual for cafés to serve espresso at all, and most people were used to coffee that had been sitting on a burner for hours. Specialty coffee and dessert felt like a luxury—often enjoyed after a movie at the old Humber Theatre (long before it was taken down).

Our signature drink was the Café au Lait, served in handmade bowls by local artist Carolynn Bloomer. She also created our espresso cups and saucers in our signature colours, robin’s egg blue, mauve, and charcoal grey.

Our uniforms? Turquoise collared shirts with coffee bean buttons, paired with custom suspenders featuring our logo. Stylish—even if a little outdated, even then—but undeniably fun.

We sold our beans in glossy one-pound bags that told the story of fresh roasting and great taste. At the time, people often said coffee smelled better than it tasted. We made it our mission to prove otherwise, challenging a culture привыкся to stale, mass-distributed coffee. We even had ongoing debates about whether to call it “smell” or “aroma.”

The walls were covered in textured, iridescent artwork by local artist Joel Masewich. The seating was angular, the stools were funky—and much of the space was one continuous smoking section. Eventually, the smoke stained the walls so badly that we had to paint over the artwork entirely.