To spot the Eaton’s Ninth Floor Restaurant, just look up at the tall building beside you on Saint Catherine Street West, and imagine a grand hall sitting above it all-with sleek Art Deco lines and big windows hinting at glamorous gatherings from another era.
Now, let’s take you into the story! Picture yourself pressing the elevator button in the bustling Eaton’s department store back in 1931, rising up, floor by floor, until the doors open to something completely unexpected. You walk into a soaring space with glowing peach walls, shimmering marble columns, gentle curves in the ceiling, and sunlight spilled through wide windows onto crisp white tablecloths. This, my friend, is the “Ninth Floor”-and if you listen closely, you might almost hear the murmur of well-dressed diners and the clink of silverware from decades past.
The vision for this spectacular spot came straight from Lady Eaton herself, a woman who believed that shopping should always be paired with a dash of glamour-or maybe even an entire pitcher. Along with a team of architects, including the famous Jacques Carlu, Lady Eaton transformed the new upper stories of the store into an Art Deco paradise. With sweeping views and even a mural painted by Carlu’s wife Natacha (inspired by the ocean-liner SS Île de France), the restaurant felt as if it had been plucked from a transatlantic cruise-the kind where you’d sip champagne while waiting for caviar, even when all you could afford was a pot of tea.
The atmosphere inside was magical. Imagine the warm glow from the lantern-like lamps, the careful hustle of waitresses (always called “the ladies of the ninth”), and the slow, tempting parade of meticulously plated Sunday roasts. Families made memories here. Lovers celebrated anniversaries. Dazzling Montrealers, clutching their shopping bags and brushing off the city’s snow, would sweep into this sanctuary of style just for the thrill of it all.
But then, in 1999, the music faded. Eaton’s itself went bankrupt, and on the last day, mourners filled the restaurant as a lone bagpiper marched through, playing “Amazing Grace.” The doors locked shut, and the once-sparkling chandeliered dining room started to gather dust. It became the stuff of Montreal legend-an Art Deco ghost trapped among faded plates and folded linens.
For a quarter-century, the Ninth Floor waited in silence. It was declared a heritage site, but no one could quite figure out what to do next. Urban explorers snuck in, snapping eerie photos before being shooed out. Historians wrung their hands. A lone petition began to circulate, and at one point it was estimated it would take more than $15 million just to bring the old grandeur back to life. The building’s owners kept the doors closed to nearly everyone but the occasional news crew, leaving Montrealers to wonder: Would Le 9e ever shine again?
Finally, hope returned. In 2023, it was announced-the Ninth Floor would live once more! A dedicated team restored every sloping surface, every shimmering accent, making sure the bones of the old restaurant would last for new generations. The reborn “Le 9e” opened its doors in spring 2024, complete with a chic new restaurant and an events space buzzing again with laughter, lights, and the scents of fresh-baked bread.
So as you stand here, below those legendary upper floors, picture those Art Deco details gleaming anew. And if you hear the faintest echo of laughter or a distant clang from a cutlery tray, don’t worry-it’s just the spirit of Montreal’s most glamorous dining room, back from its long, elegant sleep. And if you feel tempted to sneak a peek inside… well, who could blame you? This is a piece of living history waiting for its next story.
