Photo credit: Norman Wong on behalf of The Coveteur
The Soho House on Adelaide Street West is a private club, so when entrepreneur and fashion communications expert Gail McInnes suggested we meet there, I jumped at the opportunity. It’s important, as a journalist, for me experience new things in the city. I didn’t expect Honest Ed-style flashing lights, but I did hope there’d be some kind of indication of what the building was from the street, especially as it was pouring rain. No luck. I couldn’t even find the street number. I took a blind leap of faith and opened a pair of doors.
After giving my name at the front desk, I enter a large, green room with comfy, suitably clubhouse furnishings (framed photographs, animal heads, brown leather sofas.) Gail, who is about to launch an exciting new venture named Stylist Box, is seated near the back by a sadly unlit fireplace. She wears a fuchsia jacket and t-shirt, and long earrings dangled amongst her wavy black hair. When I sit down, she immediately offers to fix my rain-drizzled hair. I agree with style writer Jen Tse–Gail is the fairy godmother of Toronto fashion. Like a good Scottish girl, she’s drinking tea.
McInnes was born in Glasgow, where she lived until she was 13. After a fact-finding mission paid for with winnings from the local lottery, her parents moved her and her three sisters to Oshawa, Ontario.
“Honestly, I was expecting it to be just like Degrassi,” she says. “And it really was. I was also shocked at how people dressed five years behind in fashion. It was end of 1989, and I was the first one in my high school to wear flares and platforms. I got made fun of so much. But then everyone else started wearing them a year after.”
Gail was always interested in fashion, wanting to be a makeup artist when she was eight years old.
“I wanted to do horror makeup because I saw American Werewolf in London. And I just thought it was hilarious. Then I wanted to be a fashion designer. I was always drawing and stuff. And then I wanted to be an actor, which…no.”
Her high school in Oshawa had a theatre program although, due to her accent and resulting shyness, she was mostly cast in the chorus.
“I was deathly shy, which nobody believes now. You would just point me out and I would go beet red and not be able to say anything.” (Her accent is now only apparent when she talks about Scotland or says the word ‘seven’.)
Her school also had a fashion program, but Gail learned she hated sewing. Her teacher gave her some tough love.
“He said, ‘You know what, if you’re going to succeed as a designer, you need to have rich parents and money backing.’ Which was probably the best advice I ever got, because I was like, ‘Alright, cool. I’m either going to be fashion show coordinator or I’m going to be a model agent.’ I was probably like 17 at the time.”
Humber College was the only school that offered courses on everything she was interested in, and looking back at the two-year program, she says her career touched on everything she learned there. Her first internship was at Armstrong Men, a now-defunct modeling agency. “We would write the models’ schedules…on paper,” she says, laughing. They hired her a while she was still in school and she began volunteering for “everything and anything!”
“The more practical experience you get, the more you see ‘Oh, that’s how it goes!’”
Eventually she left Armstrong, took courses at George Brown in magazine publishing, and did temp work to pay the bills.
“Are you one of those people who sleeps like four hours a night?” I ask.
“Yes! Until I know I have nothing and then I’ll sleep for 12 hours.”
One week she phoned up the temp agency to see what was available.
“We just have one thing,” the woman told her, “but I don’t think it’s really suited for your background.”
“Well, what is it?” Gail asked.
“It’s an office assistant at the Toronto Fashion Incubator.”
“Are you even looking at my resume?” is what Gail felt like saying. What she actually said was, “That’s my background. I’m in fashion. I’ll take that job.”
She loved the TFI and became their communications coordinator. She enjoyed working with the emerging designers, but missed the social aspect of being an agent. “I wanted to talk to people on the phone.” She moved to the B&M agency where she represented men, women, child, and even hand models.
“You know that episode of Seinfeld with the hand modeling?” Gail asks. “After that, I swear every second phone call would be some guy wanting to be a hand model. I would have to tell them, there’s no hand jobs in your future.”
Gail’s career is characterized by her hard work, dedication, and need to constantly be challenged. After she’s done a job for a bit she’ll often feel “same old, same old” and want to move on. After B&M she worked for the Plutino Group. After running into an old friend who had become an actor, she became her unofficial publicist, getting her into events at the Toronto International Film Festival.
“So I had an idea,” she says. “There are so many great Canadian designers out there. Wouldn’t it be great if they had a place where actors could come and borrow Canadian designer stuff? A lot of these actors didn’t have stylists, but they’re still getting their photograph taken, so why don’t they support the emerging brands? So I came up with the concept of the Style Box.” Named after the blog she’d been writing, Gail founded the company with a friend.
The concept of the Style Box was ingeniously simple–a showroom for celebrities and personalities to come and borrow designer clothes, which both the celebrities and the designers paying to be involved.
“There was so much potential for it to grow and be amazing, but I probably should have been smarter when choosing business partners,” Gail says. “The partnership didn’t work. We officially closed the business down December 15th, 2009. It was a very difficult process shutting down a business, especially when we had just gotten to the point where everybody knew about it, everybody loved it. But it wasn’t making me happy being in that business partnership.”
The winding down of the Style Box forced her to consider what she wanted to do with her life. True to form, she didn’t stay inactive very long. She decided to do all the same things she did at the Style Box, but flip it around. She would plan launches, she would do events, and she would help develop brands. Most importantly, she would connect people, which is why she named her publicity and branding agency Magnet Creative Management.
“One of the key things with the fashion industry is that it needs to be collaborative for it to be successful and for it to survive,” she says. “If somebody needs help or anything, I’ll always help them. I’m going to help the nice people, the right kind of people, and I want them to succeed.”
I note that’s not the view of the industry a lot of people have. Rather, they picture a reality TV show-like world of competition and backstabbing.
“You see them during fashion week–people who walk around with attitude, and making demands and that kind of stuff. They’re people who feel insecure because they don’t understand how the industry works, they don’t actually work in the industry. So they feel like that’s the way that you’re supposed to act.”
“People who work in the industry,” she continues, “who actually make a living in it, are the nicest people. There’s not one person in the industry I would say I hate… but hate is a strong word.”
Due to Gail’s warmth and approachability, people end up telling her things and she’s acted as a guide for many up-and-comers. (She has been at least for me, sending emails about my pieces and always making sure to introduce me to people.)
“I love people, and I’ve got stories. Here’s my little box,” she says, miming the turn of a key. A box is a useful metaphor for everything, it seems.
Which brings us to her new initiative, which launches on May 1.
“Stylist Box is essentially what my vision for the Style Box was. Again, it is a partnership. It is a division of Magnet Creative Management, so it works completely in sync with the clients I have there.” Partnering with her friend Christian Dare, this time the focus will completely be on the practicalities of business.
“This isn’t about some actor who’s not the lead in the series coming in and borrowing something for some party where she’s not going to be photographed. For the designers, they get to be in a beautiful showroom space where stylists and celebrities are constantly coming in. They will get their items in the pages of magazines.” She explains that they have to trust that she will only give their clothes to people who will get the press.
“So if someone’s like, ‘I’m an actor,’ I say ‘Mm-hm, what have you been in?’ ‘Oh, I was in this movie and this movie and this movie.’ ‘Mm-hm, I couldn’t find your IMDB page.’ “Oh, I was just background.’” She shakes her head. “But it’s being nice about it, too.”
Meanwhile, for the stylists it’s a one-stop location for all their celebrity-dressing needs, saving them frantic runs all over town. And the celebrities can take pride in supporting local talent. The list of designers and celebrities who are already involved will be released Wednesday.
“Important question,” I say. “Are you having a party?”
“No. You know why? Because I don’t need to have a party,” Gail says. “Everybody sees me out and about anyway.”
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Max Mosher writes about style for Toronto Standard. You can follow him on Twitter at @max_mosher_.
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