The rising influence of slow-shopping across Canada

A few months ago, Leah Mersky opened River Crossing in downtown Toronto, a 1,350 square-foot shop curated with clothing and homewares so desirable I felt a duty to purchase something, anything, to ensure its future. (I bought the Incense Water fragrance from the British brand Perfumer H, which is exclusively sold in Toronto at the shop.)

Before opening the store, Mersky studied stone carving and worked in wholesale for brands like Celine and Lela Rose. She left fashion to join an education-based charity but decided to return to create “an environment where you can move through space and actually appreciate and focus on the craft and the beauty and the joy of something that has been made.”

At River Crossing, I found homewares from artists such as Nathalee Paolinelli, the Vancouver-based ceramicist, and fashion from (mostly) small, craft-driven designers such as Diotima out of New York and Cristaseya – Parisian line so superb I’m loathe to reveal it.

Mersky hopes to restore a sense of excitement and discoverability she feels is lost in over-merchandised department stores and ecommerce giants. In those experiences, “you lose that sense of connection to the maker, and the appreciation for the tactile experience of an object or other piece of clothing.” This lack of connection might explain why large brands like Ted Baker and Brooks Brothers recently shuttered stores in the Canadian market.

Along with newcomers Grays and Absolutely Fabrics, River Crossing Shop joins a growing number of independent stores in Toronto that emphasize curation, community and craft over the mass-produced luxury and ultra-fast fashion that dominate the market. At the vanguard of multibrand retail, these stores build on the blueprint laid out by destinations like Ewanika and Blue Button in Toronto, Neighbour in Vancouver, and Slowly Slowly in Halifax.

These shops also appeal to people who (try to) practice “slow shopping,” or shopping intentionally to curb impulsive spending. Don’t roll your eyes just yet: The voguish term is rooted in improving personal finance by adopting the “slow-shopping” mindset as a budgeting tool. Think of it as active resistance to the omnipresent advertising that encourages impulsive (or compulsive) shopping. Slow shopping is also related to slow fashion: a movement promoting ethical and sustainable production over disposable and toxic garments. Ultimately, though, slow shopping is an approach to spending – not an aesthetic proposed by designers or brands.

They are also indebted to influential American boutiques such as Colbo, Oroboro and Maimoun, whose considered and specific offerings have inspired loyal fans and high-profile shout outs from GQ and Vogue. These shops diverge aesthetically – that’s the point – but share an ethos: Don’t buy five Zara blazers – buy this one blazer that’ll look great and last forever.

In August, 2022, on the cusp of her “dream job” in marketing, Julia Gray was on the hunt for a new blazer that fit her petite frame and was made from natural materials. Three months later, Gray lost her job. “That day I got let go, there was this voice in my head that was like, you wanted that jacket three months ago, it’s still in your head now. Go and make that jacket.”

So, last June, Gray and her husband, Connor Dudgeon, visited a fibre mill near his family home in Parry Sound, called Wave Fibre Mill, Ontario’s only fleece-to-fabric mill, which the clothing designer Wave Weir had opened just the spring prior. “I learned about the Ontario wool industry,” says Gray. “I learned about wool’s possibilities as a fibre. I learned about its connection to the community.”

Invigorated by a fresh sense of purpose that trumped their lack of retail and design experience, Gray and Dudgeon produced a run of seven blazers with Weir made from 100 per cent Ontario wool, which have nearly sold out at Grays, their new shop and community space in Toronto’s Little Portugal. Alongside their in-house label of the same name, Grays carries a small selection of designers who share their values of small-scale, local production and natural textiles.

Neighbour in Vancouver proves this vision works. In 12 years, owner Saager Dilawri has expanded from one men’s shop to four brick-and-mortar locations in Gastown, and is the first to champion small, artisanal designers to Canadian shoppers, such as Oliver Church or Dana Lee Brown. Most of Neighbour’s business comes from online orders, but Dilawri thinks “there’s just overabundance online, so people like to go into stores still,” he says. “I still feel, especially with our product, where you need to touch it and feel it, our customer likes to come into the shop.”

Designers see the value in smaller scale, multibrand retail, too. “Brands are appreciative that they’re not just gonna get lost in the mix,” he says. “Especially with some of things we have where it is very fabric-focused not fashion-focused.” Dilawri’s personal curation and eye for talent, rather than a data-driven buying approach, have buoyed his mini-empire and earned loyal customers. In Canada, “there’s no Nordstrom anymore. There’s Holt Renfrew and Harry Rosen but that’s kind of it,” he says. “And they feel very different from us and we’re able to feel different from them.”

These stores espouse noble principles. But shoppers and retailers alike are attuned to the oxymoronic ring of phrases such as slow shopping, slow fashion or the time-worn ethical consumption. How do you sell beautiful, handmade, sometimes very expensive things while discouraging over consumption?

In May, Grays hosted an in-store talk with Weir about the Ontario wool industry and plans to organize events for natural winemakers, another passion of Gray and Dudgeon’s that jives with their values. Absolutely Fabrics recently hosted a dinner to welcome New York designer Christopher John Rogers to the store. And River Crossing is hosting a $330 ikebana Japanese floral arranging workshop where guests take home their arrangement in a Nathalee Paolinelli vase.

An opportunity to fete a young designer or do a crafting workshop is a soft sales approach, a meaningful way to engage the customer off the shop floor. But these retailers also providing an experience that’s lost in the ecommerce scroll, reestablishing a connection between consumers and the people who make and sell their items. Those items may be very expensive, but its the store owners’ responsibility to educate shoppers about why a wool sweater costs $700 or why a spring coat is $2,000.

As a freelance writer – one with poor impulse control – it would have been unwise of me to spend $575 on the striped button up from Yoko Sakamoto at Grays or $900 on the drapey black linen Cristaseya sweater at River Crossing. But trying them on in a beautiful store while a knowledgeable salesperson explains the craftsmanship behind the garments attaches greater meaning to these clothes and allows me to imagine myself wearing them in real life. The experience forces the question that lurks beneath my overstuffed closet: Why don’t I just buy this one thing?

Ultimately, the goal is to carve out a tiny space to make and sell thoughtfully-created things to a community of like-minded people who will cherish them. At the end of the day, Gray says, “It’s all about values for me.”