#1: Not The Story I Expected To Write

Have you ever had your Runes read? It’s similar to Tarot in that it is used as a divination tool, however I would venture to say it is more direct in its delivery. This December post isn’t about fortune-telling, though. It's about staying open to what the world is trying to tell you, and it’s my way of introducing myself through this new platform.

The Start

When Welded Hanger moved into its cozy 240 sq/ft retail space on the infamous Whyte Ave in Old Strathcona, I knew magic was coming. Our grand opening on March 1st brought in a slow-but-steady stream of curious visitors, then more and more. Suddenly we were the newest consignment store on Whyte Ave!

Wait, consignment? I thought we were focusing on upcycled goods.

Not at first. But one of my original consignors, cL Creations, also happened to be an upcycle designer. She asked if I’d carry her fashion pieces, I thought let's give it a shot. The word “upcycle” was new to me, even though the practice has existed for generations.

Consignment was steady… but the upcycled pieces? They sold out almost instantly. Every time. As months passed and Welded Hanger grew, regulars started visiting just to chat, and the shop quickly became a place for stories. Many of those stories now live on the weldedhanger.com home page through abbreviated quotes.

The Signs Were There

By late spring, Welded Hanger had fully transformed into an upcycled fashion shop. As I connected with more designers, I also connected deeply with customers, especially those visiting the nearby U of A Hospital and Cross Cancer Institute.

Cancer became a recurring theme in the stories people shared. One woman wandered in after an overnight hospital trip, she had experienced complications from her treatment, she was waiting for a ride home; all I could offer was a spare sample sized toothbrush and toothpaste from the dentist upstairs, but it made her smile.

The universe was whispering, I just didn’t know it yet.

Brunch

It was now early summer when I arrived first at our favourite Sunday brunch spot, Duggan’s Boundary. The door unlocked just as I reached it, and I walked straight through the pub to the sunny back patio. My friend appeared moments later and we hugged the kind of hug that anchors you.

“Did you bring your runes?” I asked. She had. I was curious about having a reading done so I had asked her to bring them. She was my childhood best friend, the blonde to my brunette, the one who had known me through every version of myself. What she didn’t know yet was that only days before, I’d been diagnosed with Cancer. And I was terrified of what telling her would unravel inside me.

The patio filled with people, and we slipped into our usual flow: work, family, friends, and endless laughter. For a moment I debated not telling her at all; it felt so good to laugh. But then there was a natural pause, an opening, and I stepped into it.

We cried. She asked questions. I had few answers; my PET scan hadn’t happened yet, so I was unaware of whether the cancer had spread. All I knew was the one sentence that had been echoing in my head: I have cancer. She asked me what I was going to do with Welded Hanger, I said I would just keep going until I can't.

When brunch wrapped up, we walked arm in arm to the parking lot. I lowered the tailgate of my truck, and we sat with our legs swinging like kids on a playground. I had an appointment to get to, so she said, “Let’s just pull one or two rune stones and see what you need to hear.”

I pulled two: Warrior and Daylight.

A battle ahead. A new beginning.

Given everything, it seemed fitting.

Battle

Summer carried on. My days became a cycle of appointments, waiting for results, and running the shop with part-time help from family. Still, the sun was bright, the evening thunderstorms electric, and I loved being on Whyte Ave, connecting, listening, and storytelling.

Then came my first bad review, a harsh one, and the smear campaign that followed. Having someone publicly attack your character shatters a piece of you. I showed the review platforms my evidence that the claims were false, but they wouldn’t remove it. “Freedom of speech.” It stung. I was advised not to engage. This was its own battle: the battle of walking away, and realistically I had more important things to focus on.

Within days, then came my PET scan and the results: Stage 1B cervical cancer. Surgery was the plan. Ok, let’s do this.

Public Service Announcement: Please go for your annual checkups. These cancers often have the highest survival rates because they’re caught early during routine exams.

Daylight

My surgery, a radical hysterectomy + removal of 5 lymph nodes, was on August 29th, 2025, and healing brought a new kind of clarity. My old sense of invincibility? Gone. But I do feel grateful; moments with strangers, friends and loved ones hit differently now. I don’t know how to explain it.

When I look back on the summer, I have to push to remember the fear, the waiting, or the hurt. What I remember with ease and clarity is the kindness; Welded Hanger was...is...magic. The conversations with strangers who became friends, the joy on people’s faces when they found the piece meant for them, and the support.

I’ve watched people be inspired to sew, to mend, to create. I’ve seen tears when an upcycled piece reminded someone of a loved one. I’ve heard friends cheer loudly for each other in the shop. Countless people have sat in the Red Chair or stood at the desk and shared their stories; designers, customers, and everyone in between. Welded Hanger became a place for connection, creativity, and emotional truth.

The runes were right: the Battle is now over and Daylight is here.

Looking ahead to 2026, this first post marks the beginning of a larger story. Starting in January, we’ll continue to expand the upcycle movement through upcycled fashion from local designers, while deepening the heart of Welded Hanger through thoughtful conversations around fashion, creativity, upcycling, and the human stories that shape us.

Thank you for reading.

Chantal