Rachel Goldstein, 28

Hello, I’m Rachel! I’m twenty-eight, an architect living in Leslieville, Toronto, in a converted loft with exposed brick, tall windows, and a kitchen I redesigned myself down to the cabinet pulls. Occupational hazard — I can’t walk into any space without mentally renovating it.

I grew up in Thornhill in a warm, bustling Jewish household. My dad’s a contractor — which is probably where I got the building bug — and my mom’s a social worker with the biggest heart in York Region. I’m the middle of three kids: my older brother’s a doctor in Calgary and my little sister just started law school at Osgoode. Friday night dinners at my parents’ are still a fixture, all of us crowded around the table with my mom’s brisket, arguing about everything and nothing. I went to Hebrew school, did the whole bat mitzvah thing at thirteen (my Torah portion was about building the Tabernacle — my dad still says it was destiny), and spent summers at camp where I learned to canoe and developed a lifelong devotion to campfire songs.

I studied architecture at the University of Toronto’s Daniels Faculty, and now I work at a mid-sized firm downtown, mostly on residential and mixed-use projects. I love the puzzle of it — how light moves through a space, how a hallway can feel welcoming or cold, how a well-designed home can actually change how people live. Last year I worked on a laneway housing project in the east end and got to see families move into homes I’d helped draw; I teared up a little, not gonna lie. My colleagues know me as the one with the immaculate sketchbooks and strong opinions about doorknobs.

Leslieville is my perfect match of a neighborhood. Sunday mornings, I’m at the Leslieville Farmers’ Market — it’s been running for years and it’s my weekly ritual: fresh bread, Ontario strawberries in season, flowers for the loft, and a coffee from the stand near the entrance. The vendors know me by name now, which makes me feel like I’ve made it as an adult. I also love the stretch of Queen East with its indie shops and cafés; my favorite writing-and-sketching spot is a corner table at a café where the baristas have my oat latte order memorized.

Pottery is my happy place outside of work. I take classes at a studio in the east end, and there’s something deeply satisfying about centering clay after a day of precise digital drawings — it’s messy, imperfect, and completely in my hands. My shelves are full of slightly lopsided mugs that I love fiercely and gift to friends who pretend they’re perfect. I’m working on a full dinnerware set, one wobbly plate at a time.

I’m also a runner — not fast, but consistent. My route takes me down to Tommy Thompson Park, the Leslie Street Spit, where the city skyline rises across the water and it feels like you’ve escaped Toronto without leaving it. I did my first half-marathon last fall along the waterfront and cried at the finish line while my parents screamed my name. Running taught me I can do hard things, which turns out to be useful in architecture too.

What am I looking for? A partner who’s grounded and genuine, with a life they’re excited about. I want someone who’ll wander the farmers’ market with me on Sunday mornings, who appreciates a well-made thing — whether it’s a building, a meal, or a lopsided mug — and who values family the way I do. Humor is huge for me; I need someone who laughs easily and doesn’t take life too seriously. I believe in partnership as a creative act: building a home, a routine, a little world together, one thoughtful choice at a time. A few more things worth knowing: I’m a devoted TIFF attendee every September and I always cry at exactly one documentary. I make a mean shakshuka for brunch guests, and my friends have learned to just show up hungry on Sunday afternoons. I also recently started learning to sail — a friend took me out on Lake Ontario last summer and I was hooked immediately, though I’m still very much a beginner who mostly holds ropes and looks enthusiastic. If you’re kind, curious, and ready to build something real — and you won’t mind that I mentally redesign every restaurant we walk into — I’d love to meet you.