For centuries, Hudson’s Bay Company (HBC) was more than just a store—it was an emblem of Canada itself. Founded in 1670 as a trading post for furs, it grew into a national institution, woven into the very fabric of the country’s complicated history. It was never just a business; for better or worse, it was part of our identity. A company of the people, for the people, built on the principle of trading Canadian goods, serving Canadian needs, and representing the spirit of a young, growing and vast nation.
Like many legacy retailers, HBC saw globalization as the future, and for a long time, it was. The pursuit of expansion, mass-market appeal, and international competitiveness was a rational choice—one that paid off for decades. But as Warren Buffett famously said, “Only when the tide goes out do you discover who’s been swimming naked.” This is a time when the dream of globalization is collapsing. Supply chains are breaking, trade wars are escalating, and the assumption that bigger is always better is crumbling. The retail landscape today is no longer about being the biggest; it’s about being the most relevant. And relevance comes not from sheer scale, but from an ability to pivot, to reconnect with customers, and to rediscover the purpose that made a brand matter in the first place.
Now, the reckoning has come.
HBC’s recent financial collapse is not just a business failure—it is an existential crisis. Once the backbone of Canadian retail, HBC has become just another failing department store—soulless, bloated, and irrelevant in an era that rewards clarity and connection over scale.
This is not just about e-commerce shortcomings or bad real estate investments, though both played a role. The deeper truth is that Hudson’s Bay, like so many legacy brands, needs to move beyond survival mode and into reinvention. The question facing Hudson’s Bay is the same one facing Canada itself in this moment of reckoning: will we continue to import someone else’s story, or will we finally have the courage to write our own again?
There is another way. If Hudson’s Bay’s leadership—present or future—has the vision and boldness to break from outdated strategies, it may still have a chance to reclaim the soul it lost.
We are witnessing the unraveling of globalization’s promise. Trade tensions with the U.S. have reached a boiling point, import costs are soaring, and a powerful shift toward buying Canadian is taking hold. Consumers are turning away from mass retail, corporate sprawl, and anything that feels impersonal, outsourced, or disconnected.
There is a renewed hunger for something real, something local—something that feels like it belongs to the people again—something unapologetically Canadian.
Envision a Hudson’s Bay transformed, not held back, by the promise of its history. A retail experience that is smaller, more intimate, and deeply rooted in craftsmanship and quality, not the vast, cavernous, and antiquated department stores of today. Picture modern trading posts—boutique spaces showcasing thoughtfully curated, Canadian-made goods. Places that feel personal, intentional, and unmistakably ours. A network of retail experiences designed not around excess, but around meaning.
This is not nostalgia; this is necessity. Brands that endure are brands that stand for something. They do not simply survive because they once mattered—they thrive because they continue to matter. Despite its missteps, Hudson’s Bay still carries a name that resonates. It remains embedded in our cultural memory and in the hearts of many Canadians. Startups would kill for that—a built-in legacy, a foundation of trust just waiting to be reignited.
There is another way. If someone with vision—and the resources to back it—sees it too, Hudson’s Bay could have a future. But only with the courage to abandon outdated strategies can it reclaim the soul it lost.
This path will not be easy. It demands a radical departure from the safety of mass retail thinking. It requires a complete rejection of the department store model, a re-centering of what Hudson’s Bay means, and a willingness to get uncomfortable. It means leaning into quality over quantity, relationships over transactions, and a purpose that extends beyond the bottom line.
If Hudson’s Bay fails to act boldly, someone else will. The gap in the market is there. The hunger for Canadian-made, small-scale, community-driven commerce is real. The only question left is whether Hudson’s Bay will reclaim its place in the hearts of Canadians—or if it will become just another footnote in retail history, a once-great institution that lost its way and never found its way back.
The moment is now. The decision is theirs.
