What makes Thunder Bay especially notable is the combination of its natural setting and its civic scale. Travelers can spend a morning on the waterfront, an afternoon exploring galleries or cafés, and an evening at a local performance or Pride event without dealing with the pace and expense of a larger metropolitan scene. That mix is one reason smaller cities are increasingly surfacing in LGBTQ+ travel coverage: they offer belonging through community institutions rather than through a single tourist district.

A Pride scene that signals welcome

Thunder Bay’s LGBTQ+ visibility has been anchored by local Pride organizing, especially Pride Thunder Bay , which has helped keep queer life visible in the city through parades, programming, and community outreach. The existence of an organized Pride body in a mid-sized northern city matters because it gives visitors a concrete sign that the city is not merely tolerant in theory but active in public affirmation.

Local Pride efforts also tend to be practical in smaller markets: they connect visitors with affirming businesses, volunteer-run events, and community partners more directly than in larger destinations where queer life can be diffuse and segmented. For queer travelers, that can translate into a more personal experience, with fewer assumptions and more direct local guidance.

Culture, food, and the feel of the city

Thunder Bay’s cultural appeal extends beyond LGBTQ+ life alone. The city has long been shaped by a mix of Indigenous, Finnish, Italian, Ukrainian, and other communities, and that multicultural identity is visible in its restaurants, neighborhoods, and public institutions. For travelers, this gives the city a distinct character: it is not a generic small town, but a northern city with a layered identity that rewards curiosity.

That cultural depth also helps explain why queer visitors may find Thunder Bay appealing even without a dense nightlife strip. Smaller cities often develop welcoming atmospheres through cafés, bookstores, arts venues, and neighborhood gathering places, and Thunder Bay’s local scene fits that pattern. Rather than selling itself as an explicitly “gay district” destination, the city offers a broader sense of livability that can still matter deeply to LGBTQ+ travelers seeking spaces where they do not have to perform tourist identity to feel comfortable.

The landscape is part of the story

One of Thunder Bay’s strongest selling points is its geography. The city sits beside Lake Superior, and the surrounding region includes some of Ontario’s most striking natural scenery, including the Sleeping Giant and accessible waterfront parks. For queer travelers looking for a trip that balances community with solitude, that landscape can be part of the draw: hiking, shoreline walks, and scenic drives provide a way to experience the region beyond nightlife and events.

That outdoor dimension is especially meaningful in the current travel landscape, where many LGBTQ+ travelers are looking for destinations that feel restorative rather than performative. Thunder Bay’s appeal lies in its ability to offer both public welcome and private space, with enough urban infrastructure to make a trip easy, but enough natural beauty to make it feel removed from the pressures of larger tourist centers.

Why it is becoming a hidden gem

Thunder Bay is emerging as a hidden gem for queer travelers for three reasons. First, it is relatively absent from the standard LGBTQ+ travel lists, which means visitors can still discover it as something of a local secret. Second, it has visible community infrastructure through Pride organizing and an established civic identity that gives affirming visitors a place to land. Third, it offers a travel experience built around the combination of culture and wilderness, which is increasingly attractive to travelers who want authenticity rather than a packaged queer-tourism brand.

Its under-the-radar status is part of the story. Mainstream queer travel coverage often gravitates toward destinations with already-famous reputations, but places like Thunder Bay show how LGBTQ+ hospitality is also being built in smaller regional centers. In those places, welcome is often measured less by spectacle than by whether a traveler can walk into a café, attend a community event, book a room, and move through a city without needing to explain themselves.

What queer travelers can expect

For LGBTQ+ visitors, Thunder Bay is best understood as a destination for a calm, self-directed trip rather than a party-first getaway. Travelers who value local culture, food, lakeside scenery, and community-based events are likely to find more to do than they may expect from a city of its size. Those looking for a dense late-night queer entertainment corridor may find the scene quieter than in larger metros, but that quieter profile is exactly what makes Thunder Bay distinctive.

The city’s value also lies in its flexibility. It can function as a weekend stop, a road-trip anchor, or a summer base for exploring northwestern Ontario. For queer travelers who often evaluate destinations not only by formal policy but by the texture of daily life, Thunder Bay offers an appealing blend of practicality and place: a city where the landscape is dramatic, the cultural mix is real, and the LGBTQ+ footprint is visible enough to matter.

The broader significance

Thunder Bay’s rise as a queer-friendly destination reflects a broader shift in travel culture. LGBTQ+ travelers are increasingly looking beyond the best-known urban icons and toward secondary cities that offer better access, lower congestion, and a stronger sense of local connection. In that context, Thunder Bay is not trying to imitate the better-known queer capitals. It is succeeding by being itself: a northern city where Pride exists, culture runs deep, and the lake and forest are never far away.

Taos has long been known to painters, skiers, and spiritual seekers; lately, it’s quietly drawing queer travelers looking for something softer than a circuit weekend and more grounded than a rainbow‑flag resort. There’s no official gayborhood, no giant nightclub. Instead, there’s a cluster of queer‑owned galleries and cafés, a gender‑inclusive spa dress code, Indigenous‑led cultural tours that welcome LGBTQ+ visitors, and a town ethos that leans hard into live‑and‑let‑live.

In other words: less glitter, more stars.

An artsy, off‑grid town with queer DNA built in

With a population hovering around 6,000 people, Taos is tiny even by small‑town standards, but its artistic and countercultural reputation is outsized. Beginning in the early 20th century, the town attracted painters and writers such as Georgia O’Keeffe, Mabel Dodge Luhan, and D.H. Lawrence, all of whom were drawn to the dramatic light and the sense that the rules—social, sexual, artistic—could bend a little here.

Taos’s creative streak never went away; today, the town supports more than 80 art galleries and studios, an unusually high concentration for a community of its size. Many of those spaces are either owned by LGBTQ+ people or intentionally showcase queer and gender‑expansive artists, though those connections are often more word‑of‑mouth than billboarded.

New Mexico itself has consistently scored among the more LGBTQ‑affirming U.S. states in recent years, with statewide protections against discrimination in employment, housing, and public accommodations based on sexual orientation and gender identity. In 2019, the state also banned the so‑called “panic defense” in criminal cases involving LGBTQ+ victims, becoming the first in the Southwest to do so. That legal backdrop matters when you’re queer in a rural place; it’s the quiet infrastructure that helps the town’s do‑your‑own‑thing vibe feel like freedom rather than risk.

A small town where queer visibility feels casual, not curated

On a summer afternoon, the Taos Plaza smells like roasting chiles and sunscreen. The adobe‑lined square, anchored by a 19th‑century church, hosts weekly live music and festivals where couples—straight and queer—dance together without fuss. You’ll spot same‑gender couples walking hand‑in‑hand, a nonbinary traveler comparing turquoise rings with a local artisan, and a lesbian couple chasing two toddlers carrying melting paletas.

There are no rainbow crosswalks, but there are subtle signals. A bookstore chalkboard invites customers to use their pronouns on name stickers. A café advertises a “Queer Zine Swap” next Thursday alongside its blue corn waffles. A local art collective’s poster touts a “Trans and Two‑Spirit Figure Drawing Night,” co‑organized with Indigenous artists from surrounding pueblos.

New Mexico recognizes Two‑Spirit identities as part of ongoing Indigenous cultural revitalization, and tribes around Taos—particularly Taos Pueblo, which has been continuously inhabited for more than 1,000 years—are engaged in broader conversations about gender, tradition, and community health. While those conversations are primarily internal to each tribe, tour operators and local Indigenous leaders have publicly emphasized that respectful LGBTQ+ visitors, including transgender and Two‑Spirit people, are welcome when they follow community protocols.

Safety, laws, and the reality of being out in the rural Southwest

For queer travelers, the romance of the open road runs up against a very practical question: Is it safe for us there?

New Mexico legalized same‑gender marriage in 2013 and has included sexual orientation and gender identity in its statewide nondiscrimination law since 2003. The state also allows transgender people to update gender markers on driver’s licenses and birth certificates with relatively streamlined processes that do not require proof of surgery.

In Taos County, local government has voiced support for LGBTQ+ residents through backing Pride events and inclusive public health messaging. In 2023, Taos hosted a public Pride celebration that included a march, drag performances, and a resource fair featuring organizations such as Equality New Mexico , the state’s primary LGBTQ+ advocacy group.

According to Equality New Mexico, reports of anti‑LGBTQ+ harassment in the Taos area remain relatively low compared with other parts of the state, though advocates caution that rural underreporting is a persistent problem. For travelers, that translates into this: Taos is not a risk‑free utopia, but it is meaningfully safer and more affirming than many rural regions in the U.S., particularly those without statewide civil rights protections.

It also helps that Taos’s economy is deeply reliant on tourism and the arts. Local business owners interviewed by regional outlets have repeatedly framed LGBTQ+ visitors as integral to the town’s creative and economic life, emphasizing that “everyone’s money is green here, and everyone should feel welcome spending it.”

Queer‑owned and queer‑friendly spaces, from hot springs to hotel bars

Unlike big‑city scenes, where queer life clusters in a few nightlife blocks, Taos’s LGBTQ+ spaces are more woven into daily life.

Several of the town’s boutique hotels and inns are owned or managed by LGBTQ+ people, many of whom promote their properties as explicitly inclusive on their websites and social media. Regional travel coverage has highlighted Taos as one of New Mexico’s more welcoming small towns, in part because of these visible commitments by hospitality businesses.

New Mexico as a whole has been marketing itself as an LGBTQ‑friendly destination, with the state tourism office’s “New Mexico True” campaign explicitly featuring queer couples in its imagery and recommending Taos in itineraries for LGBTQ+ travelers seeking art, skiing, and spiritual retreats. That state‑level endorsement has nudged more local businesses to adopt inclusive policies and staff training.

Within a short drive of town, clothing‑optional hot springs and spa retreats popular with queer and gender‑expansive visitors emphasize body‑positive, all‑genders‑welcome policies on their websites. Travelers can soak under a sky so dark that the Milky Way looks like spilled salt, surrounded by piñon and juniper; at some properties, the only dress code is “respect other people’s boundaries.”

Taos also sits near the world‑famous Earthship community, a cluster of radically sustainable homes built from recycled materials like tires and bottles. The off‑grid, eco‑queer aesthetic is strong here—think solar panels, rainwater catchment, queer environmentalists in wide‑brim hats, and guests of all genders marveling at how cool the interior stays without air‑conditioning.

Pride on the mesa: small, scrappy, and deeply local

Taos doesn’t make the list of North America’s top ten LGBTQIA+ destinations in mainstream travel surveys, which tend to focus on big cities like New York, San Francisco, and Toronto. But local Pride celebrations have been growing, mirroring a broader trend of rural and small‑town Pride events across the U.S. and Canada.

In recent years, Taos Pride events have included a march through the historic district, an outdoor drag show in the plaza, and family‑friendly activities like story hours and craft tables for kids. Organizers have also elevated queer and Two‑Spirit artists in performance lineups, acknowledging the intersection of Indigenous culture and modern LGBTQ+ life in northern New Mexico.

Regional media have reported an increase in attendance, driven in part by visitors from surrounding rural communities who may not have a local Pride of their own. For queer travelers, that means Taos Pride isn’t just a party; it’s one of the rare spaces where LGBTQ+ people from isolated pockets of the Southwest can gather, network, and feel part of something bigger than their ZIP code.

What it feels like to arrive as a queer traveler

Getting to Taos typically means flying into Albuquerque or Santa Fe and then driving for an hour or two through landscapes that look like they’re still buffering. Cell service drops; the road snakes past abandoned gas stations, tiny chapels, and roadside stands stacked with ristras of dried red chiles.

For many LGBTQ+ travelers, especially transgender people and queer people of color, that drive can be tense. Nationally, both anti‑LGBTQ+ rhetoric and targeted violence have created new anxieties about traveling through rural areas. New Mexico’s legal protections and Taos’s inclusive reputation do not erase that context, but they do reshape the experience at the destination.

Visitors describe the moment they arrive in town as a kind of pressure drop: rainbow stickers in shop windows, inclusive bathroom signage at cafés, staff using gender‑neutral greetings as naturally as “y’all.” At night, the air smells of cedar smoke and roasting corn; couples queue for tamales after a drag show, kids chasing each other between food trucks, elders wrapped in woven blankets perched on folding chairs.

The sensory palette is unmistakably Southwestern—crisp, high‑altitude air; chile‑laced stews; adobe walls still radiating sun at dusk—but the social signals quietly say: You belong here, whoever “you” is today.

Outdoor adventure without having to go back into the closet

Taos isn’t just an art town; it’s an outdoor playground ringed by mountains, rivers, and canyons. Taos Ski Valley, about 30 minutes from town, offers skiing and snowboarding in the winter and hiking and mountain biking in the warmer months. The Rio Grande del Norte National Monument, just north of Taos, features dramatic basalt cliffs and river‑runner rapids that attract rafting and kayaking enthusiasts.

Queer travelers often talk about the relief of being able to book an outdoor adventure—rafting trip, guided hike, ski lesson—without having to downplay their partners or pronouns. In recent years, several regional guiding companies have publicly promoted their LGBTQ+ inclusivity in marketing materials and staff training, acknowledging the need for safer outdoor spaces for queer and transgender people.

That matters because outdoor recreation has historically been coded as hyper‑masculine and heteronormative, leaving many LGBTQ+ people feeling unwelcome or unsafe in wilderness settings. Taos, by contrast, offers an alternate script: a queer woman guiding your snowshoe tour; a nonbinary rafting instructor cracking jokes on the riverbank; a group of friends in Pride beanies taking selfies at the edge of a gorge so deep it feels like the earth itself is exhaling.

Intersectional by geography, not by marketing slogan

Taos sits at the intersection of multiple communities: the historic Taos Pueblo; Hispano villages whose roots stretch back to Spanish colonization; Anglo transplants from both coasts; and artists who arrived for a residency and never quite left. That layered history means that conversations about queerness in Taos are also conversations about race, colonialism, and gentrification.

Local reporting has documented tensions over rising housing costs and short‑term rentals, which affect low‑income residents—including many LGBTQ+ people—more acutely. Some long‑time locals worry that new money, including from out‑of‑state queer visitors and second‑home owners, could erode the town’s cultural fabric.

At the same time, community organizations in Taos have formed coalitions that include both LGBTQ+ advocacy and broader social justice work, such as housing, immigration, and Indigenous rights. For visiting queer travelers, that means the town’s queer‑friendliness is not just about rainbow flags in storefronts; it’s intertwined with ongoing work to make the community safer and more livable for all marginalized residents.

How to show up as a respectful queer guest

If Taos is starting to sound like your next desert crush, there are ways to show up that support the people who make it welcoming.

Travel experts and local advocates suggest booking with locally owned accommodations, including queer‑owned inns and guesthouses when possible, rather than defaulting to national chains. Visitors are also encouraged to take at least one Indigenous‑led tour or cultural experience rather than treating nearby pueblos as mere photo backdrops.

Respect local norms when visiting Taos Pueblo, which has specific rules around photography, sacred sites, and dress. Those expectations apply equally to LGBTQ+ and non‑LGBTQ+ visitors and are a key part of maintaining trust between the pueblo and the town.

And finally, consider timing your trip to coincide with Taos Pride or one of the town’s many arts festivals, from film to ceramics to poetry. You’ll not only get a richer experience; you’ll add your body, your story, and your dollars to a growing, resilient ecosystem where queer and trans joy isn’t imported for a weekend—it’s being rooted in the high desert for the long haul.

Just 45–60 minutes west of Toronto by train, Hamilton, Ontario has spent the past decade transforming from a post‑industrial punchline into one of Canada’s most interesting mid‑sized cities — and queer people are at the center of that glow‑up.

It’s not yet on the big lists of classic LGBTQ+ getaways — the New Yorks, San Franciscos, and Torontos of the world still dominate those rankings. But on the ground, Hamilton’s 2SLGBTQIA+ community is building something smaller, scrappier, and arguably more exciting: a city that increasingly treats queer folks as neighbors, creators, and organizers — not just seasonal Pride tourists.

Quick orientation: where, what, and why now

Hamilton sits on the western edge of Lake Ontario, about 70 kilometers from downtown Toronto, connected by frequent GO Transit trains and buses. Historically known as “Steeltown” for its manufacturing and port industries, Hamilton has spent the last decade pivoting into a mix of healthcare, education, arts, and tech, with large employers like Hamilton Health Sciences and McMaster University reshaping the local economy.

That shift brought waves of students, artists, and younger residents priced out of Toronto — including many LGBTQ+ people — who were looking for a city with character, slightly more affordable housing, and at least a few decent espresso options.

As of Canada’s 2021 Census, roughly 1 million people across the country self‑identified as lesbian, gay, bisexual, or another minority sexual identity, and nearly 60,000 people identified as transgender or non‑binary. Statistics Canada noted that younger people and those in larger urban areas were more likely to identify as part of the LGBTQ+ community. While this data is national, Hamilton fits the trend: it’s a growing urban center with a sizable student population and relatively lower costs than Toronto, a combination that tends to attract queer people and creatives.

Add in the fact that Ontario prohibits discrimination based on sexual orientation, gender identity, and gender expression in employment, housing, and services under the Ontario Human Rights Code, giving LGBTQ+ residents and travelers strong provincial legal protections. For visitors, Canada also updated its federal travel documents to include an “X” gender marker option on passports and immigration documents, a move that improves ease of travel for many non‑binary, gender‑diverse, and some transgender people.

So, on paper, Hamilton has the legal and geographic foundations for a welcoming visit. The real magic, though, is what’s happening in its neighborhoods.

The downtown queer core: James Street North and beyond

Hamilton’s downtown — especially James Street North and the surrounding streets — has become the city’s de facto queer‑friendly spine, packed with independent businesses, galleries, and bars.

The city’s tourism office highlights James Street North as a creative corridor, home to artist‑run spaces, galleries, and restaurants that anchor monthly art crawls and the annual Supercrawl festival. Supercrawl, a free multi‑day arts and music festival that draws more than 200,000 attendees in some years, prominently features diverse performers and has included LGBTQ+ artists and queer‑inclusive programming in recent editions.

Local reporting from CBC Hamilton describes how the area’s galleries, independent shops, and nightlife have contributed to a broader cultural revitalization downtown, drawing artists and younger residents from across the region. Many of the businesses in this corridor are queer‑owned or explicitly LGBTQ‑friendly, though not always branded as “gay bars,” reflecting a trend seen in several North American cities where queer people increasingly prefer integrated, inclusive spaces over strictly segregated venues.

This doesn’t mean Hamilton has no explicitly queer spaces. A small but growing set of venues regularly hosts drag shows, queer dance nights, and 2SLGBTQIA+ community events, often promoted through local organizers and on social media rather than national travel guides. Because many of these events are grassroots and rotate between venues, travelers are best served by checking recent listings via organizations like Hamilton Pride and local queer collectives on Instagram.

Hamilton Pride: small, scrappy, and increasingly loud

Hamilton’s Pride scene is far more intimate than Toronto’s massive parade, but it has a hard‑won, community‑driven energy that many visitors find refreshing.

Hamilton Pride traces its roots to grassroots 2SLGBTQIA+ organizing in the city and currently runs an annual Pride festival typically scheduled in June, featuring a community fair, performances, and a march. In recent years, organizers have emphasized accessibility, sober‑friendly programming, and family‑inclusive events, reflecting broader shifts in Pride culture toward centering marginalized community members alongside celebration.

The Hamilton Pride website notes that its board intentionally includes diverse voices from across the 2SLGBTQIA+ spectrum and highlights partnerships with local organizations providing services for queer and transgender people, including youth support and health services.

Ontario‑wide, Pride organizations coordinate through networks that share resources on safety, inclusion, and advocacy. For example, Fierté Canada Pride works to support Pride festivals across the country, including smaller cities, with training and advocacy tools designed to help local organizers respond to hate incidents and navigate municipal politics.

Canada‑wide data shows that 2SLGBTQIA+ organizations have reported increased harassment and targeted hate in recent years, particularly at public events, even as public support for LGBTQ+ rights remains relatively high. Hamilton is not immune to these broader trends, and local advocacy groups have stressed the importance of allyship, bystander intervention, and community support at public queer events. For visitors, that means Pride in Hamilton comes with an added sense of solidarity: you are not just showing up for a party — you are visibly supporting a local community that has done the organizing work year‑round.

Nature, waterfalls, and queer‑friendly outdoorsy vibes

Hamilton markets itself as the “Waterfall Capital of the World,” with over 150 waterfalls and cascades in the surrounding area along the Niagara Escarpment and Bruce Trail. The city’s official tourism materials highlight popular spots like Webster’s Falls, Albion Falls, and the Dundas Peak lookout, which offer hiking and scenic vistas within short drives or transit‑plus‑walk routes from downtown.

Though not designated specifically as queer spaces, these natural areas appeal to many LGBTQ+ travelers who prioritize outdoor experiences, mental health, and wellness in their trips — a trend documented by multiple travel and LGBTQ+ organizations. Out Adventures, an LGBTQ+ tour operator based in Canada, cites growing interest among LGBTQ+ travelers in small‑group, nature‑oriented trips in countries with robust legal protections, including Canada.

For queer visitors who live in denser urban centers or countries with less legal protection, Hamilton’s combination of accessible hiking, lake views, and walkable urban streets offers an appealing balance of nature and city life in a country that ranks highly on global LGBTQ+ safety indices.

Queer‑affirming services, health infrastructure, and safety

For many LGBTQ+ travelers — especially transgender people and those with intersecting marginalized identities — “LGBTQ‑friendly” is not just about nightlife and rainbow crosswalks; it is also about whether the city offers affirming services and a broader culture of inclusion.

Hamilton benefits from Ontario’s public healthcare system and local providers that explicitly serve LGBTQ+ communities. Hamilton Health Sciences and other regional health bodies promote equity, diversity, and inclusion policies that include sexual orientation and gender identity, and some clinics partner with community organizations to improve care for transgender and gender‑diverse people.

At a national level, the Government of Canada has recognized the need to address health inequities facing LGBTQ+ people, funding research and community initiatives aimed at improving mental health, access to gender‑affirming care, and HIV prevention. Organizations like Rainbow Health Ontario , based in the province, provide training and resources to healthcare providers to improve care for 2SLGBTQIA+ communities, including in mid‑sized cities like Hamilton.

On the safety front, ILGA World’s latest global report notes that Canada maintains federal protections for sexual orientation and gender identity and bans discrimination in most areas of public life. The report highlights Canada’s recognition of same‑sex marriage nationwide since 2005 and the inclusion of gender identity and expression in federal human rights law. While no city is entirely free of risk, Canada consistently scores among the higher‑ranked countries in global LGBTQ+ travel safety guides.

For travelers, that combination — local health infrastructure, provincial and federal protections, and a visible community network — can make Hamilton feel significantly safer and more navigable than destinations where queer people must remain closeted in public or lack access to affirming services.

Why Hamilton isn’t famous (yet) — and why that’s exactly the point

If Hamilton is so promising, why isn’t it already plastered across queer travel lists?

Most major LGBTQ+ destination roundups still focus on large, heavily touristed cities — New York, San Francisco, Toronto, Montréal, Vancouver, and similar hubs dominate lists of top LGBTQ+ destinations in North America. These rankings often rely on metrics like Pride parade size, number of gay bars, or social media visibility, which naturally privilege global cities over emerging mid‑sized ones.

Hamilton, by contrast, has relatively modest tourism marketing compared with Toronto and Niagara Falls, and its queer spaces are more community‑driven than corporate‑sponsored. Pride events, drag shows, and 2SLGBTQIA+ meet‑ups are often promoted through local networks and social media rather than big national campaigns. That makes Hamilton easy to miss if your idea of planning a queer trip is “Google ‘gay destination’ and click the first page.”

But for many travelers, that’s the appeal. Queer travel specialists note a rising interest in “second‑tier” cities — places with strong legal protections and visible communities but fewer tourists and lower costs. These destinations offer more opportunities to connect with local LGBTQ+ residents, support queer‑owned businesses, and experience the everyday culture of a place rather than a Pride‑weekend version of it.

Hamilton fits that profile almost perfectly: it is close to Toronto but culturally distinct, legally safe but not oversaturated, and queer in a way that feels lived‑in rather than curated for tourism.

How to do Hamilton like an insider (and not a lost Torontonian)

Because many of Hamilton’s LGBTQ‑inclusive spaces are integrated into the broader city fabric, the best way to experience it is to follow the local rhythms rather than hunting for a single “gay neighborhood.”

A few practical, grounded tips for planning a queer‑affirming trip:

- Center your visit around events. Check the Hamilton Pride site and social media for festival dates, drag shows, and 2SLGBTQIA+ community events. Many of the most affirming spaces are event‑based pop‑ups or rotating nights rather than permanent “gay bars.”

- Use Toronto as your entry point, Hamilton as your base. Pearson International Airport and Billy Bishop Toronto City Airport offer extensive international connections, and GO Transit provides direct rail service from downtown Toronto’s Union Station to Hamilton’s stations. This allows travelers to access big‑city amenities while staying in a quieter, more affordable, and increasingly queer‑friendly city.

- Stay walkable, explore by foot and transit. Hamilton’s central neighborhoods around James Street North, King William Street, and Locke Street South are walkable and connected by local transit, making car‑free travel possible for many visitors.

- Balance cafes, galleries, and waterfalls. Tourism Hamilton’s guides highlight independent cafes, restaurants, galleries, and waterfall hikes that can easily be combined into a long weekend. Queer travelers looking for both culture and nature can plan days that start with brunch, continue with a hike, and end with a show or community event.

- Engage with local organizations. If you want to support local 2SLGBTQIA+ communities directly, look for events, fundraisers, or volunteer opportunities promoted by Hamilton Pride and regional organizations like Rainbow Health Ontario , which often shares local training and community news.

Why Hamilton deserves a spot on the queer travel map

With major LGBTQ+ travel guides still fixated on the same handful of North American cities, it is easy to miss the quieter revolutions happening in places like Hamilton. Yet all the indicators that queer travelers say they care about — strong legal protections, visible community, arts and culture, nature access, and an emerging Pride infrastructure — are already in place or actively growing in this lakeside city.

Hamilton will likely never be Toronto, and that is precisely its charm. Instead of five‑deep Pride crowds and brand‑sponsored floats, it offers an intimate, community‑centered queer experience where you can actually talk to the people who live there, ask baristas where to find the best drag show that night, and end your day looking over the escarpment with a sense that you have stumbled onto something special — and not yet overrun.

For queer travelers ready to expand their North American map beyond the usual suspects, Hamilton is not just a stopover between Toronto and Niagara Falls; it is starting to look like a destination in its own right. And if you go now, you still get to be the friend who says, “I was there before everyone else figured it out.”

Since the event began in 1998, the Disneyland Resort has welcomed this annual celebration and continues to do so even as some of the country’s culture wars aim their sights at Disney and the LBGTQ+ community. 

Festivities begin on Friday at noon with the opening of the Gay Days Welcome Center/ Expo at the Grand Californian Hotel. At 7:00 PM, Cheyenne Jackson, fresh from starring opposite Maya Rudolph in Oh, Mary! on Broadway, takes to the stage with his new act, “That Guy from That Thing.” At 9:00, queer stand up comedian Zach Noe Towers returns to Gay Days debut with a night of comedy. 

Saturday, September 19 will be Gay Day at Disneyland with a full day of activities and meet-ups scheduled in the park. The day culminates at House of Blues Anaheim with two performances featuring RuPaul’s Drag Race Global All Stars champion, Alyssa Edwards, in a brand-new show, “Once Upon a Tongue Pop” at 7:00 PM and 9:00 PM. At 10:00 DJ Paulo Ramirez. takes over for our signature dance party, KINGDOM! 

Sunday, September 20 will be Gay Day at Disney's California Adventure with more in-park activities and at 11:00, Gay Days Drag Queen Bingo featuring Chico’s Angels star, Kay Sedia. 

As the sun sets, we’ll close the weekend at 6:00 PM with more Drag Race favorites, Jackie Cox and Jan Sport in their show, Y2J, and then Irene the Alien, in “Diva Worship” at 8:00 PM.

VIP ticket packages are available now. 

Both days in the parks will feature gatherings only available over Gay Days weekend, including a scavenger hunt, a group photo, a lesbian ice cream social, group meet ups at varying attractions, and many more events targeted to families, teens, bears, couples and Mouseketeers of every ilk. A complete schedule is available at the Gay Days website www.GayDaysAnaheiminfo.com

Other highlights of the weekend include the Gay Days Welcome Center (located inside the Trillium Room of Disney’s Grand Californian Hotel), a scavenger hunt, a gigantic group photo and mixers all over the resort. 

Gay Days Anaheim is a "mix-in" with the park’s other weekend guests, but gays and lesbians are encouraged to wear red shirts in order to identify each other and to show strong numbers. Official T-shirts are available at the official Gay Days at Disneyland website. 

Additionally, Gay Days guests can enjoy the exclusive discounts available at the three Disneyland Hotels. The rates are better than any pricing one could otherwise find throughout the year. 

Gay Days Anaheim is NOT a Disney-sponsored event so Disney will not have any information regarding the "unofficial" happening.

Sponsors for the event include Delta, Howard Johnson Anaheim, and Radiant Health Center. Media sponsors are The Fight, Pink Media, and EDGE Media Network. 

For complete details, including discounted hotel rooms and park tickets, visit 
www.GayDaysAnaheiminfo.com

For a growing number of LGBTQ+ travelers, this is the fantasy: not just rainbow crosswalks and nightclub districts, but a small mountain town where being visibly queer is about as remarkable as carrying a kayak helmet to dinner.

Salida—population around 6,000—has quietly become one of the most LGBTQ-friendly small destinations in the Rockies, even as nearby ski resorts and Denver soak up most of the tourism spotlight. Now, a visible queer community, a local Pride that has expanded from picnic to multi-event weekend, and an arts scene that actively centers inclusion are turning this high-desert outpost into a rural retreat where queer travelers can feel both seen and safe.

A river town with a rainbow current

Salida sits in Colorado’s “banana belt,” a pocket of comparatively mild climate surrounded by fourteen-thousand-foot peaks. The historic downtown, designated a creative district by the State of Colorado, is all brick storefronts, hand-lettered signs, and galleries spilling out onto the sidewalk. In winter, there’s Monarch Mountain’s powder. In summer, there’s whitewater, biking, and hot springs.

That mix—outdoor access plus artsy downtown—has increasingly drawn LGBTQ+ residents and visitors, reflecting a broader trend of queer people seeking community in smaller, more affordable places. Time Out has noted that LGBTQ-friendly small towns often share a combination of scenic beauty, creative culture, and vocal local allies; Salida now fits that pattern even though it’s not yet on most national lists.

Officially, Salida brands itself as “the Heart of the Rockies.” Unofficially, local queer residents are building a quieter tagline: “come for the river, stay because no one cares who you hold hands with.”

From informal hangouts to an official Pride

Salida Pride, the town’s LGBTQ+ festival, grew out of informal gatherings and has evolved into a more structured event schedule, including a family-friendly celebration at Riverside Park, drag performances, and community resource tables. The organization describes its mission as “celebrating and advancing equality, dignity, and visibility” for LGBTQ+ people in Salida and surrounding Chaffee County.

Photos from recent Salida Pride weekends show trans flags draped over camp chairs, kids chalking rainbow hearts on the pavement, and older residents in hiking hats dancing to live music. Unlike the huge corporate-branded parades in major cities, Salida’s Pride feels more like an extended potluck beside a very scenic river—if potlucks included spontaneous vogueing on the grass.

Salida Pride’s events sit within a broader Colorado context where state law explicitly prohibits discrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity in public accommodations and employment, and where conversion “therapy” for minors is banned. That legal framework matters for queer travelers choosing where to spend their money and their vacation days.

Visible queer leadership in an arts-first downtown

Salida’s historic district is designated as a Colorado Certified Creative District, a program created to support arts-driven economic development. Galleries, studios, and performance spaces line F Street and the surrounding blocks, and several are owned or run by LGBTQ+ people or vocal queer allies.

For queer travelers, that arts infrastructure isn’t just about buying a locally thrown mug. It means spaces where creative expression and experimentation are normal, which can translate into safer environments for LGBTQ+ self-expression. Time Out’s analysis of queer-friendly small towns notes that places with strong creative economies often report more visible and integrated LGBTQ+ communities, even without a formal “gayborhood.”

Local venues and collectives—such as those listed by the Salida Creative District —regularly host drag shows, queer musicians, and LGBTQ+ themed art openings, especially during Pride month and peak summer. While individual lineups change seasonally, recent schedules have included cabaret-style performances, gender-bending costume nights, and open mics where nonbinary poets share the stage with folk singers in river sandals.

Safety, politics, and the “rural Colorado” question

Rural America is often portrayed as hostile terrain for LGBTQ+ people, but the reality is uneven and layered. National reporting has highlighted how queer communities have taken root in smaller, politically mixed locales, building networks of mutual support even when state policies lag behind.

In Salida’s case, local politics do not map neatly onto national talking points. Chaffee County has shown a mix of voting patterns over the past decade, reflecting both longtime residents and newer arrivals. However, public support for local LGBTQ+ events and the absence of major publicized anti-LGBTQ+ incidents in recent years have helped queer residents feel more comfortable being out, according to profiles in regional media and community organizations.

The broader state context also matters. Colorado ranks relatively high on LGBTQ+ legal equality indices, with protections in housing, public accommodations, and employment, and with hate-crime laws that include sexual orientation and gender identity. For many queer travelers, especially transgender people and queer families, that policy baseline is a core part of feeling safe enough to book a trip.

A basecamp for queer outdoor lovers

Salida’s geography is pure adventure catalogue: the Arkansas River’s famed whitewater, the Sawatch Range looming on the horizon, and miles of singletrack and forest roads within a quick drive. Colorado Parks and Wildlife notes that Chaffee County is home to extensive public lands, from Browns Canyon National Monument to nearby trailheads leading into the San Isabel National Forest.

Traditionally, outdoor culture has skewed macho and heteronormative, but LGBTQ+ outdoor organizations have been reshaping that landscape across North America. Groups such as The Venture Out Project and LGBTQ+ hiking collectives have shown that queer people are increasingly claiming trails, rivers, and climbing routes as spaces for community and healing.

While Salida is not formally branded as an LGBTQ+ outdoor hub, local outfitters and guide companies have publicly highlighted their commitment to inclusion and have hosted Pride-adjacent events and fundraisers, according to regional travel pieces and local business profiles. That kind of explicit allyship—from using inclusive language in marketing to training staff on respectful pronoun use—can make the difference between a transgender traveler feeling comfortable renting a wetsuit and opting out entirely.

For many LGBTQ+ visitors, the appeal is the ability to move between queer-affirming downtown spaces and wild landscapes in a single afternoon: a morning rafting trip with a guide who doesn’t flinch at they/them pronouns, an afternoon gallery stroll, then an evening drag show where you find the same bartender from your lunch shift cheering in the front row.

Lodging where pronouns are part of the welcome

Travel guides increasingly stress that queer-friendly lodging is less about rainbow stickers and more about everyday respect: correct pronouns at check-in, no awkward questions about bed configurations, and staff who understand that two women or two men checking in together are very likely a couple.

Salida’s accommodation landscape skews toward small: boutique hotels, riverside motels, bed-and-breakfasts, and vacation rentals in renovated miners’ cottages. While individual policies vary, several downtown properties highlight inclusivity and diversity on their websites or social media, aligning themselves with Colorado’s reputation as an LGBTQ+-friendly destination.

IGLTA and similar organizations recommend that LGBTQ+ travelers look for lodging that explicitly mentions nondiscrimination policies or inclusive practices on their sites, and that they prioritize destinations in states with strong legal protections—boxes that Salida and Colorado generally check.

How it feels to arrive as a queer visitor

While every traveler’s experience is individual, patterns emerge in reporting about LGBTQ+ visitors to smaller, progressive-leaning towns: people describe an initial wariness—especially for transgender people and queer couples of color—followed by cautious relief when they realize they are not the first visibly queer people to walk down Main Street.

In Salida, that emotional arc is helped along by physically visible cues: Pride flags in shop windows, event posters using inclusive language, and a mix of visitors and locals whose gender expression reads as delightfully nonconforming—from queer-coded river guides in cutoffs to nonbinary artists in paint-splattered overalls.

National LGBTQ+ organizations emphasize the importance of this “felt safety,” which extends beyond legal protections into everyday interactions: who smiles back when you hold hands, whether a bartender corrects a misgendering, how a local responds if you ask about the nearest gender-neutral restroom. These micro-moments can make or break a trip.

Reports from Colorado’s smaller creative towns—including Salida—indicate that many queer residents and visitors experience a strong sense of community grounded in repeated casual kindness: neighbors who show up en masse for Pride, straight river rats who recommend the best café for queer-friendly wifi time, and older residents who quietly mention that they’ve had a gay cousin “forever” and don’t see what the fuss is about.

Getting there (and getting oriented)

Reached by a two-and-a-half to three-hour drive from Denver or Colorado Springs, Salida is remote enough to feel like an escape but close enough for a long weekend. Most visitors arrive by car; once in town, downtown is walkable, with bike rentals widely available.

Queer travelers planning a trip can start with state and regional resources that highlight LGBTQ+-inclusive businesses and events across Colorado. Salida Pride’s channels and the Salida Creative District’s website list up-to-date event calendars, including Pride-month happenings, art walks, and performances with explicit queer themes.

For transgender and nonbinary travelers, organizations such as Advocates for Trans Equality (A4TE) and the Transgender Law Center offer state-by-state guides to ID requirements, healthcare access, and airport navigation, which can be useful when planning any trip that involves air travel into Colorado.

Why Salida matters in the bigger queer travel story

Salida is not Provincetown, Palm Springs, or Fire Island—and that’s the point. National travel media have begun celebrating a wider constellation of LGBTQ-friendly small towns, from Northampton, Massachusetts, to New Hope, Pennsylvania, and Eureka Springs, Arkansas, as queer people look for spaces that feel intimate, affordable, and integrated into local life.

Salida sits just outside that emerging canon: not yet widely marketed as a “gay town,” but steadily building the infrastructure—Pride celebrations, visible queer residents, inclusive arts spaces, and outdoor businesses that actively welcome LGBTQ+ people—that define truly affirming destinations.

For queer travelers exhausted by legislation targeting LGBTQ+ rights in parts of the United States, especially attacks on transgender health care and drag performance, choosing where to spend tourism dollars has become a form of quiet political expression. Destinations like Salida—where state law affirms LGBTQ+ dignity and local culture follows suit—offer a vision of what queer-friendly rural travel can be: not an exception, but a new kind of normal.

And there is something quietly radical about watching drag performers lip-sync in front of snowcapped peaks while rafters drift by, barely glancing up. In a time when visibility can feel dangerous in many places, Salida’s gift to LGBTQ+ travelers is deceptively simple: the freedom to be unforgettable if you want to be—or just another pair of muddy hiking boots in the crowd.

That legal backdrop matters for queer travelers, but Bendigo’s emerging appeal is also cultural. The city is known for its historic streetscapes and major arts institutions, including the Bendigo Art Gallery and the Bendigo Joss House Temple, which reflect the city’s layered colonial and migration histories. Bendigo Tourism describes the city as a place where heritage and contemporary culture sit side by side, shaping an experience that is more than a simple weekend stop.

For LGBTQ+ travelers, that kind of setting can be significant. Regional destinations often feel more intimate than major cities, and Bendigo’s compact center makes it easy to move between galleries, cafés, parks and heritage sites without the friction of a larger urban itinerary. The city’s tourism and cultural institutions consistently emphasize accessibility to its central precinct, which can make it an attractive base for travelers who want a relaxed stay rather than a nightlife-heavy trip.

A regional city with visible community signals

What makes Bendigo especially interesting as a queer-friendly destination is not a single marquee event, but a combination of visible signals. Regional Pride activity in central Victoria has become more established in recent years, with local groups and civic organizations using the city’s public spaces to mark inclusion and community visibility. These events are important because they indicate that queer life in Bendigo is not confined to private networks or metropolitan spillover; it has a public footprint.

Bendigo Pride Festival presents itself as a locally rooted celebration of LGBTQ+ communities in the region, and its existence points to a broader shift in how regional Australian cities are positioning themselves. Rather than relying only on “safe” branding, Bendigo is building a civic identity that includes queer people in the story of the city. That is especially relevant for travelers who want more than tolerance: they want evidence of participation, representation and ordinary belonging.

Local institutions also reinforce that message. The City of Greater Bendigo has public inclusion and diversity policies that frame the municipality as a community serving residents and visitors of differing identities and backgrounds. While a policy alone does not define the lived experience of every traveler, it does provide an institutional baseline that many LGBTQ+ visitors look for when deciding where to spend time and money.

Why Bendigo feels different from the usual LGBTQ+ circuits

Bendigo does not compete with Sydney’s Mardi Gras scale or Melbourne’s larger queer nightlife ecosystem, and that is precisely why it can stand out. Its value lies in offering a different model of queer-friendly travel: one centered on culture, daylight experiences and regional hospitality rather than an identity-specific entertainment district. That approach aligns with a broader pattern in LGBTQ+ travel, where many travelers increasingly seek places that are welcoming in everyday life rather than only during festival weekends.

The city’s arts institutions add depth to that experience. The Bendigo Art Gallery has a national profile for major exhibitions, which helps give the city a cosmopolitan edge uncommon in a regional center of its size. The gallery’s programming, combined with Bendigo’s heritage architecture and seasonal food-and-wine culture, makes it possible to build a trip that feels intellectually and aesthetically rich without leaving central Victoria.

Bendigo’s regional setting also matters because it reflects a broader Australian reality: LGBTQ+ travelers are not limited to the country’s largest cities. The national legal framework is comparatively strong, and state and territory protections are broadly established, which helps create the conditions for smaller destinations to market themselves as inclusive. In practice, that means a traveler can choose Bendigo for its architecture, food, art and slower pace without having to treat queer safety as an afterthought.

Local texture: heritage, food and the kind of small-city ease that can feel welcoming

A hidden-gem destination often succeeds because its physical character supports a sense of ease, and Bendigo has that quality in abundance. Its streets are defined by the wealth of the nineteenth-century gold rush, and the city has preserved enough of that era’s civic ambition to make a walk through the center feel like a tour through Australian history. At the same time, Bendigo’s tourism materials emphasize contemporary dining, creative production and wine-country day trips, which means the city does not read as a museum piece.

For queer travelers, that balance can be attractive. A place does not need a sprawling gayborhood to feel inclusive; it needs legible public spaces, cultural institutions that welcome broad audiences and a civic culture that does not insist visitors stay invisible. Bendigo’s appeal is that it offers all three in modest but recognizable form.

The city also benefits from being close enough to Melbourne to be accessible, but far enough away to feel like a change of pace. That makes it a useful add-on for travelers building a broader Victoria itinerary. Visitors can combine Bendigo with regional wine, country hospitality and the city’s museum and gallery circuit, creating a trip that is rooted in place rather than in the usual resort template.

What queer travelers are likely to notice

The most meaningful thing about Bendigo may be that it offers a quieter version of welcome. Queer travelers who have often had to decode whether a destination is safe, visible or merely marketing itself as friendly may find Bendigo’s strongest asset is its normalcy: a regional Australian city where inclusion is increasingly embedded in civic life, where cultural institutions are central to the visitor experience and where Pride has a local home.

That does not make Bendigo a queer capital, and it should not be described as one. But it does make the city a credible candidate for travelers looking for a place that is off the obvious route yet still grounded in real infrastructure, public visibility and a national framework of legal protection. In a travel market often dominated by the same handful of LGBTQ+ destinations, that is enough to make Bendigo feel like a hidden gem with room to grow.

Whether he’s getting rare access inside Big Ben’s Great Clock, sampling the generations old art of cheese making at Quatrehomme Paris, drifting off in a surreal dreamscape at Queztacoatl’s News in Mexico City or handing out medals alongside world-class volunteers at the finish line of the New York City Marathon, each stop cracks open a vivid slice of the culture, craft and creativity that brings the very best of the world to vibrant life. 

I spoke with Antoni about uncovering the moments—and people—that make each destination unforgettable.

The broader Caribbean is already having a breakout year. Recent travel data reports summer 2026 Caribbean searches up 15% year-over-year, driven more by accommodation bookings than flights, a sign that travelers are locking in longer stays earlier than usual. Average U.S.-to-Caribbean economy fares at $385, 32% below South America, and are keeping demand at levels the region hasn't seen before.

Sint Maarten: Up 133% and still climbing

No other destination on this list has the structural advantage Sint Maarten does, which helps explain a 133% year-over-year jump in searches according to TravelAge West. Two countries share one island, with Dutch Sint Maarten and French Saint Martin each offering a genuinely different experience without a passport crossing between them, and ferry and charter connections to Anguilla, St. Barts and Saba extend that range further.

The travelers who book it are also doing their homework: Google Search data from April shows zip-lining ranked as the top-trending activity searched for Sint Maarten and Mullet Bay Beach logged as a breakout destination query. Late spring falls within the shoulder season here, with peak-season crowds gone, hotel rates lower and the island still weeks away from meaningful hurricane risk.

The cost most first-timers miss is inter-island transport, since ferry and charter fees to those neighboring islands accumulate fast and rarely appear in initial booking quotes. Travelers looking for a slower pace without leaving the island should spend time on the French side, where beaches are quieter, the dining scene runs Creole-French and the casino-resort energy of the Dutch side gives way to something considerably more relaxed.

Aruba: Up 62%, driven by geography as much as anything else

Aruba is located 15 miles off the Venezuelan coast, well outside the main hurricane belt, and that geography has become a selling point in its own right. The island averages roughly 350 days of sunshine per year with very low historical exposure to direct storm impacts, which makes it an easy booking decision for travelers who want warm weather without the weather anxiety most Caribbean islands carry in summer. The 62% year-over-year gain in search interest is the direct result.

For travelers who book in May, conditions are as good as any month on the calendar: dry-season weather holds, trade winds keep temperatures comfortable and occupancy runs lower than it will once June arrives. The cost that catches visitors off guard is the gap between advertised and actual spend, since all-inclusive rates along the Palm Beach corridor frequently exclude resort fees and gratuities.

Those who want to sidestep the resort strip entirely should head to Savaneta, the island's oldest village on the southwestern coast. Local seafood restaurants, calmer water and none of the north end's high-rise density create a quieter side of Aruba that many visitors never reach.

San Juan: Up 52%, largely because no passport is required

The case for San Juan starts with something no other Caribbean destination offers U.S. travelers: no passport, domestic airfare and no currency exchange. That combination has driven a 52% year-over-year search surge that is less about trend-chasing and more about practical decision-making. Old San Juan adds cultural weight to that access advantage, with 500-year-old Spanish colonial architecture, cobblestone streets and a food scene that has drawn serious national attention, giving the city a depth that beach-only islands can't match.

Booking now puts travelers ahead of the curve, before humidity builds, crowds push past the December-to-April peak and hotel rates follow the demand curve up. Car rentals are the expense most visitors underestimate: inventory is tight year-round and prices run high, so book in advance or plan around rideshares. Travelers who want beach access without the tourist concentration of Old San Juan should look at Isla Verde, east of the city center, close to the airport and running at a noticeably more local pace.

Caribbean demand keeps climbing higher

Beyond the destinations that see the biggest search spikes, travelers also widen the Caribbean map they consider for summer trips. Grenada enters more travel conversations as visitors look past the region's busiest resort hubs. The island appeals to travelers who want a quieter pace built around spice plantations, smaller boutique stays and a food scene tied closely to local agriculture and seafood rather than large resort corridors.

The Caribbean Tourism Organization projects 3% to 4% stayover growth across the region for 2026, but Sint Maarten, Aruba and San Juan already see search growth well above the broader Caribbean market. What travelers increasingly want from the Caribbean becomes clearer: easier access, fewer weather concerns, flexible pricing and enough local character to fill more than a beach chair and a cocktail hour. These islands happen to check all four boxes at once.

Now Jim Henson's Creature Shop, the workshop founded by the legendary creator of the Muppets, is drawing back the curtain.

This year, the company opened the doors of its Queens workshop to public tours for the first time, allowing fans to meet a puppet builder, see a puppetry demonstration and take photos and videos with beloved and iconic characters.

Jason Weber, the shop’s creative supervisor, said the tours, which cost $150 a person, are an opportunity to celebrate the unsung craftspeople that bring these famous characters to life.

“There is a level of expertise here that we’re sharing. It’s not just going to a pop-up store or something like that,” he said during a recent visit. “Things are made one-of-a-kind, made by hand with artisans who have been trained for years and decades.”

Besides Kermit, Miss Piggy and other Muppets, Henson was the creative force behind Big Bird, Cookie Monster and other famous “Sesame Street” denizens, as well as the “Fraggle Rock” characters. He died in 1990.

Henson originally founded the workshop in the 1960s in Manhattan and it has moved multiple times around the city since. It's been at its current location in Queens since 2009. The company also has a workshop in Los Angeles, though that doesn’t offer tours.

The 80-minute New York tours take place on Saturdays. Visitors start in a large room specially created for the tour that's filled with real show props and creations. It’s also the only spot on the tour where visitors are allowed to take photos and videos, as much of what’s in the actual workshop are still works in progress or proprietary.

“The Muppets" are now owned by Disney. Sesame owns the rights to Big Bird and other characters Henson created for the long-running show, which films at a nearby studio.

Among the centerpieces in that first room on the tour is an Oscar the Grouch display where the “Sesame Street” character is in his familiar trash can surrounded by heaps of fake garbage.

There’s also a menacing black throne from “The Dark Crystal,” Henson’s 1982 live-action fantasy film, and a full-sized working puppet of Junior Gorg, a giant from “Fraggle Rock,” which requires multiple performers to manipulate.

The workshop space itself is filled with fantastical creatures in various stages of assembly. There’s drawers and bins tucked into nearly every corner brimming with colorful furs, textured fabrics and ready-made puppet body parts, clothing and accessories.

“Everything we do is custom. Everything we do is bespoke,” said Melissa Creighton, the shop’s director.

On a recent visit, staff were busy preparing costumes and other pieces for a range of current projects, including a “Fraggle Rock" musical opening later this month at a theater near Times Square.

The shop’s past credits include the horror movie “Five Nights at Freddy’s,” the children’s fantasy film “Where the Wild Things Are" and the 1990s television sitcom “Dinosaurs.”

Sierra Schoening, a senior puppet builder, said working at the shop had been her “pie-in-the sky” dream job. Her favorite movie growing up was “The Labyrinth,” Henson's 1986 musical fantasy film starring David Bowie and Jennifer Connelly.

“I just really always wanted to know how those illusions were made,” Schoening said as she took a break from fashioning a set of new creations. “I know all the secret sauce, and I’m making the secret sauce now.”