Alley Kat
Active Member
Kensington royal racks up 50 years without price tags
May 07, 2008 04:30 AM
JOE FIORITO
Tom Mihalik is not the King of Kensington – that crown belongs to another man – but some think of him as the Prince, and he was in a ruminative mood the other day. Tom's Place – his clothing store in Kensington Market – has just entered its 50th year.
If the Market is not quite a souk, at Tom's the price is famously never the price: you see a piece of clothing you like, you ask for Tom; he winces as if he were parting with a portion of the golden fleece. Or perhaps he appears judicious, parsing your good taste, the nature of your character, and his regard for your esteem. And then he offers you a better price.
They should teach this stuff in business school.
Tom, in his broom closet of an office, explained the origins of the famous semi-haggle: "My father never put price tags. When I took over from him in 1980-81, I started to put price tags like a regular store. The customers complained. They thought I was taking the store in a different direction."
Walk softly, carry a big shtick.
To survive in business, it is necessary to be more than nimble. Tom nearly went broke in the '80s. He couldn't pay the rent. A friend in the Market floated him a loan of a thousand dollars cash, no questions asked. Things looked grim.
"And then I had a call from a distributor in Montreal. He had some leather coats. They were made for Harry Rosen, but in the wrong colour. They were supposed to be dark blue, but they came out lighter. He said I could have 50 or 75 coats. I said I had no money. He said he knew my father, and he would send me six coats, and if I couldn't sell them, I could send them back. I had nothing to lose.
"I went to the bus terminal on the streetcar to get the coats. Beautiful leather, I put them on a rack outside; gorgeous, with the Harry Rosen label." Tom paid $100 each for the coats and sold them for $150, and he ordered more and he sold those, too.
"My luck changed. I saw I had to bring in newer styles. There was a niche in ladies' wear. I became friends with the president of Jones New York. I bought clearances from him."
Soon, all the well-heeled ladies pressed Tom to carry designer clothes for men.
Tom, a charmer, knows how to listen. "I met the distributor of Hugo Boss. I knocked at his door and said, `I have a store in the Market. I would like to buy your samples, anything you have left over.' He liked me right away."
The man from Hugo Boss made a buck, and so did Tom, and what was in the early days an adventure – finding designer rags for an occasional bargain – has now become the norm, carried on the shoulders of a guy whose business roots are planted in the Kensington of the past.
Tom does not think his story could happen the same way today, given that modern clothing manufacturers make only what is pre-ordered and no more. What he has done may not be done again.
We're glad he did it once.
But I have questions. Thousands of immigrants still arrive, like Tom, armed with little more than native wit; we all need clothes and food and durable goods; most of us are broke; and we all want a bargain. Is there, in this town, another incubator like the Kensington of old? Can there ever be another? Who is our future prince?
Happy 50th, Tom.
http://www.thestar.com/GTA/Columnist/article/422300
May 07, 2008 04:30 AM
JOE FIORITO
Tom Mihalik is not the King of Kensington – that crown belongs to another man – but some think of him as the Prince, and he was in a ruminative mood the other day. Tom's Place – his clothing store in Kensington Market – has just entered its 50th year.
If the Market is not quite a souk, at Tom's the price is famously never the price: you see a piece of clothing you like, you ask for Tom; he winces as if he were parting with a portion of the golden fleece. Or perhaps he appears judicious, parsing your good taste, the nature of your character, and his regard for your esteem. And then he offers you a better price.
They should teach this stuff in business school.
Tom, in his broom closet of an office, explained the origins of the famous semi-haggle: "My father never put price tags. When I took over from him in 1980-81, I started to put price tags like a regular store. The customers complained. They thought I was taking the store in a different direction."
Walk softly, carry a big shtick.
To survive in business, it is necessary to be more than nimble. Tom nearly went broke in the '80s. He couldn't pay the rent. A friend in the Market floated him a loan of a thousand dollars cash, no questions asked. Things looked grim.
"And then I had a call from a distributor in Montreal. He had some leather coats. They were made for Harry Rosen, but in the wrong colour. They were supposed to be dark blue, but they came out lighter. He said I could have 50 or 75 coats. I said I had no money. He said he knew my father, and he would send me six coats, and if I couldn't sell them, I could send them back. I had nothing to lose.
"I went to the bus terminal on the streetcar to get the coats. Beautiful leather, I put them on a rack outside; gorgeous, with the Harry Rosen label." Tom paid $100 each for the coats and sold them for $150, and he ordered more and he sold those, too.
"My luck changed. I saw I had to bring in newer styles. There was a niche in ladies' wear. I became friends with the president of Jones New York. I bought clearances from him."
Soon, all the well-heeled ladies pressed Tom to carry designer clothes for men.
Tom, a charmer, knows how to listen. "I met the distributor of Hugo Boss. I knocked at his door and said, `I have a store in the Market. I would like to buy your samples, anything you have left over.' He liked me right away."
The man from Hugo Boss made a buck, and so did Tom, and what was in the early days an adventure – finding designer rags for an occasional bargain – has now become the norm, carried on the shoulders of a guy whose business roots are planted in the Kensington of the past.
Tom does not think his story could happen the same way today, given that modern clothing manufacturers make only what is pre-ordered and no more. What he has done may not be done again.
We're glad he did it once.
But I have questions. Thousands of immigrants still arrive, like Tom, armed with little more than native wit; we all need clothes and food and durable goods; most of us are broke; and we all want a bargain. Is there, in this town, another incubator like the Kensington of old? Can there ever be another? Who is our future prince?
Happy 50th, Tom.
http://www.thestar.com/GTA/Columnist/article/422300