Behold a noble home of such refinement, one might confuse it for a mini Buckingham Palace if Buckingham had better lighting and TWO parking spots. (Yes, 2. In Toronto. Gasp.) Step through the grand front door and into a stately hallway whispering tales of candlelit banquets and awkward small talk. To the left a royal parlour adorned with crown mouldings, a medallioned chandelier, and windows crowned in stained glass, a true mark of taste, if not direct royal lineage. Beyond lies the dining hall, where feasts and dessert debates await. But the true crown jewel? The kitchen. Bathed in sunlight and armed with stainless steel appliances. Subway tiles rumoured to be laid by Garyangelo, Michelangelo's lesser-known brother who chose backsplash glory over ceiling fame, and a butcher block island for slicing crumpets and plotting world domination. Enter Sir Charles, the dishwasher: silent, loyal, and never misses a spot. Ascend to the sleeping quarters where the sun-kissed primary chamber faces the front gardens, offering dreams filled with quiet luxury. Two more bed chambers await, one with built-ins for storing scrolls and treasures, the other for guests, heirs, or banished snorers. Then...the bathroom. A sanctuary with a clawfoot tub, so resplendent you may find yourself composing sonnets mid-soak. A temple of tilework, so intricate, so divine, it may have been laid by the hands of Renaissance angels or at least someone with extreme attention to grout lines. Below, the unfinished basement holds your storage dreams and your laundry (which Charles politely declines). And in a land riddled with parking woes, rejoice! For this estate grants thee two drama-free, chariot-ready parking spots. A gift from the heavens (or the city bylaws either way, we thank them). Near the Junction, High Park, TTC, and the long-prophesied Smart Track. Long live the crown mouldings. Long live the tilework. And above all. Long live Charles.
