It was a red-letter day, as Willam Gibbon quipped. And the letter was a W.
It was over three years ago when the original W came down from its perch atop the old department store, prior to the big blast that would dust most of the structure to smithereens. But that W was not in fit enough condition to be remounted, and so an energy-efficient duplicate was fabricated to take its place on the skyline. (The old one will have a place of honour in the atrium.)
It’s hard to exaggerate the symbolism and meaning of this icon. Everyone seems to have a story. Councillor Kerry Jang, representing the City, told the audience at the salon that Woodward’s for him meant not having to eat Chinese food on Saturdays, when his aunt would take him and his grandfather to Chinatown where afterwards they would walk to the Hastings Street emporium for a hamburger. The Caucasions would be walking over from Granville Street, and it was at Woodward’s where everybody mixed.
In the atrium, an elderly woman (right) was proudly showing a mock-up of the W – the story behind it I couldn’t overhear. 
There was Kip Woodward (centre below, with Cllr. Suzanne Anton and Michael Geller), 
immensely gratified that honour has been restored to the Woodward name.
Architects and artists, students and business leaders, ex-Woodward’s staff and SFU faculty, politicians of all persuasions and residents of the Downtown East Side – everyone followed the band out to the plaza for the countdown.
And when the W lit up, and the LED lights sparkled white with a new intensity, a wave of emotion spread across crowd – a moment of deeply felt civic pride.
Been loving this series. Just a small correction, it was his aunt that would take him to Woodwards not his mother. His aunt would drop off his grandfather in Chinatown and then they would head down to Woodwards.