What Even Is Toronto Style?

Think of any major fashion-forward city, and a general aesthetic will likely come to mind. Paris has perfected the chic French archetype, whose decidedly décontracté approach to dressing is a moodboard mainstay. Copenhagen boasts an eclectic crowd that plays with colour and prioritizes foot comfort. London is experimental and subversive; Milan is lauded for its leather. You get the idea. But when it comes to looking a little further north, Canada’s most populated city doesn’t have that same instantly recognizable style identity.

The beauty of living in a metropolis like Toronto is that it shapes you; its vast pockets of culture and tight-knit communities mean there are always new opportunities for self-discovery on the horizon. But style-wise, what does that look like? What makes us us, and why is it so hard to pin down? In pursuit of this response, FASHION tapped three local industry insiders. Here’s what they had to say.

Toronto doesn’t have a distinct fashion identity

“There isn’t a one-size-fits-all approach to dressing here,” says fashion publicist Morgan Hanson. “Compared to other cities, we don’t have our overall style identity nailed down, but there are good reasons for it.”

For starters, Toronto is one of the most multicultural cities in the world, so it makes sense that its style scene is not a monolith. “There are so many global influences informing how people here dress,” says Hanson. “Whether it’s Japanese minimalism, French elegance or Middle Eastern craftsmanship.” Rather than melting down into one look, people here often dress to amplify uniqueness. According to Sage Paul, a designer and member of the English River First Nation, this goes back to our country’s ambiguous cultural fabric.

“I feel Canada does not really have a strong cultural identity because it’s based on colonialism,” she explains. In Toronto, we rep the parts of ourselves we’re most proud of—whether that’s a neighbourhood, queer identity or ancestral background. “Fashion is an integral part of culture, and I think Toronto culture is about our differences.”

Ashley Galang, a stylist who often travels abroad for work, puts it a bit more bluntly. “People don’t think about fashion when they picture Toronto,” she says. “They think about Drake.” She points to another reason Toronto isn’t known as a fashion hub: much of our cultural touchpoints come from the U.S. (Think: the Beyoncé-backed Western resurgence and Hollywood red carpet trends.)

“Toronto style is a mix of influences from international cities,” Galang explains. Identity aside, there are also practical reasons for the lack of a singular style identity. And anyone who knows the tyranny of grey slush and sticky summer heat gets it.

When it comes to dressing, weather rules

“The ultimate influencer of style in our city is Mother Nature,” Hanson says. The forecast’s unpredictability can lead to cumbersome layers or no-frills basics like T-shirts. (On the day we speak in early April, it’s sunny in the morning and snow-storming by noon.) The simple truth is that, when living here, functionality often comes first. Galang agrees. “Winter is a huge disruption of putting your best style forward, because the cold makes it hard to put together a strong look consistently.”

Still, Paul argues that we could do a better job at marrying weather protection and aesthetic artistry. “If you look at Inuit clothing design, that is outdoor fashion,” she notes. The Indigenous community’s prints and vibrant colours offer weather-minded wardrobes that don’t skimp on self-expression.

That said, even climate-conscious dressing isn’t a universal truth about Toronto’s fashion scene. Paul makes an excellent point: Depending on where in the city you visit, the whole weather rule can go out the window. “I mean, you can walk to King Street West in the dead of winter and see people wearing mini-skirts.”

Style varies drastically across neighbourhoods

Travel from the curated cobblestone of Yorkville to the downtown scene of Dundas West, and you’ll feel like you’ve visited two separate cities. The same goes for many neighbourhoods around Toronto, where aesthetics reflect respective communities.

“Parkdale is artsy and experimental,” Galang says, crediting the galleries in the area for its playful street style. Paul appreciates the lived-in vibrancy of Kensington Market: “It’s cultural, Caribbean-heavy and, of course, vintage.” Hanson notes the cool ‘fits of Queen West and Ossington are influenced by community-loved retailers like Uncle Studios, Kotn and Lost & Found. In contrast, Yorkville’s designer-loving crowd values tailoring, structure and, at times, status signalling. “You see people overdoing luxury and excessively giving into logo-mania,” he says.

The aforementioned King West is another experience entirely. Known for its club-lined strip and proximity to the financial district, the dress code oscillates from daytime athleisure to going-out attire. “A lot of corporate young professionals live there,” says Galang. “So I think the way they dress is influenced by the kind of work they do.” (Think: Men in finance.)

It’s the same story all over the city. “People identify with their neighbourhoods,” Paul says. “That’s an exciting thing about Toronto, especially watching what’s happening in the world, where people are being stripped of their identities.” But Torontonians aren’t just dressing for where they live, Hanson points out. “People actually dress to appeal to the neighbourhood they’re going to be in that day.”

Toronto isn’t a fashion capital—but maybe that’s a good thing

Yes, Toronto has its cherished fashion institutions—Canadian Arts & Fashion Awards (CAFA) recognizes up-and-coming talent; Fashion Art Toronto (FAT) casts a spotlight on local models, photographers and designers—but it doesn’t have the same sartorial status of other large cities. “It’s hard to be called a fashion capital when the industry isn’t embedded into the everyday culture,” Galang says.

If there were one reigning aesthetic here, says Paul, it would be that of Indigenous people. “We are the first people of this land, and can bring distinct style based on generations of culture in the same way that Paris, Milan and Copenhagen have.” But because our city is based on diversity, she doesn’t think we’ll ever get to a place where we have a single discernible aesthetic—despite what trending Tiktok audio clips might suggest.

Hanson says that’s not such a bad thing. “I don’t know that we need to get to the level of Paris or Copenhagen,” he says. “I think there’s beauty in difference, and I think there’s beauty in people not all looking the same.”

Still, Toronto can do better

Because we’re a casual city, fashion risks can feel less welcome. “Sometimes I’ll wear my Tabis to an event and people look at me like it’s strange,” Galang says. Hanson feels it too. “I want to see people get dressed more,” he says. “More subtlety; less relying on braggadocious brand logos.” To start, he suggests perusing local stores and intentionally supporting homegrown talent like Spencer Badu, Omi Woods and Mejuri.

On a hopeful note, Galang praises rising pockets of the city that feel more experimental. “Fashion Art Toronto brings together stylish groups of people,” she says, noting that the days-long runway event allows avant-garde energy to shine. But with more resources allocated to fashion, the city could do even more.

“There isn’t enough government support and infrastructure,” says Paul, mourning the loss of Toronto Fashion Week and the lack of accessible grants for green talent. “The reason Milan is on the map as a fashion capital is because the city invested in the industry there. If we’re not getting that support, we have to do it on our own. And things take a lot of time when you have to do them alone.”

Beyond monetary support, she hopes for deeper education on the importance of the sartorial world. “I think a lot of people associate fashion with glamorous rich people going to fancy events, wearing outrageous outfits,” she says. “But we don’t talk about where that expression comes from; the teachings that come with the garments. There’s so much behind it.”

While Toronto’s style identity might be unclear, we have something many places don’t: access to every kind of culture. According to Paul, this should empower us to be as eccentric and rule-breaking as we want. The more we embrace our differences, the more our self-expression thrives. “There’s almost a fearlessness here,” Paul reflects about Toronto style. “And I feel like we’re inching towards it.”