How MAC is reclaiming the cosmetic line’s indie spirit that began in Toronto | Canada Voices

Long before “inclusion” became a buzzword and then, a co-opted corporate catchphrase, MAC built a cosmetics empire by presenting beauty as a wide spectrum of faces and voices. Founded in 1984 by Frank Toskan and his late business and life partner, Frank Angelo, the loud, proud and vibrant Toronto-born brand rejected the polite restraint of our country’s reputation in favour of artistry and activism.

With their warm, irreverent Canuck wit, they transformed marginalized communities into pillars of glamour. MAC cast models of all ages – from their 20s to their 90s – and expanded their foundation ranges to include a multitude of shades, catering to diverse skin tones and undertones. This expansion wasn’t just about variety; it was about true inclusivity, ensuring that people of colour could find shades that matched them, long before diversity became a cosmetic buzzword.

They elevated spokespeople who challenged the mainstream. During the 1990s, RuPaul and k.d. lang became their first brand ambassadors, fronting MAC’s Viva Glam campaign – a lipstick line launched in 1994 that donates 100 per cent of its proceeds to HIV/AIDS causes (it still does).

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Yet as the beauty world caught up, MAC’s shine dimmed. Celebrity and digital influencers launched copycat brands, its once-radical playbook became industry standard and the brand began to find itself wading in a market full of copycats.

Last year, MAC re-entered the cultural conversation by naming Japanese-Italian innovator Nicola Formichetti as its new global creative lead. His CV boasts more than a decade as Lady Gaga’s long-standing collaborator, creative director for Mugler, artistic director for popular fashion brand Diesel and former fashion director for Vogue Hommes magazine.

Formichetti sees his new role at MAC as a homecoming of sorts. “I felt like I never fit in,” he says via Zoom from his New York home. “So, I always was looking for my own heroes and found them in MAC. As a queer person, I understood what they were doing because it felt like they were speaking my language. … I always felt included and like they were disrupting.”

Formichetti’s affinity for boundary-pushers is rooted in his family. “The first revolutionary person I knew was my mom,” he recalls. “She was a Japanese lady who became a flight attendant for Alitalia and married an Italian pilot back in the seventies. She was a total rebel. My grandmother is still horrified that she married a foreigner and brought him back to her village in Japan.”

This isn’t Formichetti’s first time working with MAC. As a young stylist in London, he was hands-on with the brand. “I remember being on set for shoots and thinking that it was never just about an eyeliner or lipstick – it was about creating whole worlds. Every image was a full-out fantasy of what could be.”

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Renowned for collapsing boundaries between fashion, music, art and identity, his collaboration with Lady Gaga ushered in hundreds of reinventions when songs such as Just Dance, Poker Face and Born This Way ruled the charts. “During that time, I would sometimes style more than five looks in one day,” he says.

And part of his evolution with Lady Gaga included challenging the status quo. The infamous meat dress – concepted with artist Franc Fernandez and worn to the 2010 MTV Video Music Awards – functioned as a protest against the U.S. military’s anti-LGBTQ “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy. On The Ellen DeGeneres Show, Gaga explained her outfit, saying, “If we don’t stand up for our rights soon, we’ll have as much rights as the meat on our bones.”

“I wouldn’t be able to do that today, but I’m glad it went out there,” Formichetti says. “It’s something Gaga and I still talk about. It was powerful.”

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His work also sparked what magazines such as Vogue dubbed the “Gaga effect” defined by horned headgear, oversized shoulders, glittered and restructured bodysuits and upcycled materials on the world’s fashion runways. His vision was so potent that, in 2010, Mugler tapped him to become creative director of the French fashion house.

“I want to bring that same experimental energy to MAC,” he says. “I’d like to really break out of the noise of the system and give people something to talk about.”

Since stepping into the role, Formichetti has followed through. His first spokesmodel was Kris Jenner, sparking debate around beauty standards and aging. A stunt with Doja Cat followed. At last year’s MTV Video Music Awards, the rapper-singer bit into MAC’s Lady Danger lipstick – an edible version not for sale, crafted by chocolatier Amaury Guichon. The moment garnered US$2.8-million in viral media exposure.

His latest campaign with Chappell Roan – announced just weeks ago – features the Pink Pony Club singer in a look that channels club kid energy and feels worlds away from previous campaigns linked to Disney’s 40th anniversary and Netflix’s Stranger Things. To generate more buzz and sales, MAC also struck a deal with Sephora so they too could be available at the cosmetics retailer.

Toronto-born, Los Angeles-based celebrity makeup artist Sabrina Rinaldi – who began her career behind a MAC counter and has used MAC palettes for more than three decades – says she sees the tide turning. “Nicola is bringing back a kind of modern nostalgia – tapping into the best of the 1990s and 2000s without it looking recycled or rehashed,” she says. “It’s weird, it’s off-the-beaten path and it feels much fresher while still honouring what the Franks did.”

During the 1990s, actor Alexander Chapman was among the many fringe performers booked by MAC to appear at Viva Glam and Toronto-based Fashion Cares events, often as his drag persona, Titi Galore. “MAC gave us jobs while so many others wouldn’t give opportunities to Black, queer people,” he says. “Sometimes, they were the only jobs we got.” It was at a MAC event that Chapman was spotted by director John Greyson, who cast him in Lilies, a role for which the actor later received a Genie nod.

For Chapman, MAC’s new look embraces the transformative past. “These new people in the campaigns, like Chappell, embody the nightlife we were living decades ago – house music, handmade bold patterns, outrageous clothes that sometimes verged on costume, but always told a story.”

And Formichetti’s narrative is woven from Chapman’s era. “The nineties are always a starting point for me, but the influence really comes from where I learned everything: the clubs in London,” he says. “That’s where I met all the fashion people, [Alexander] McQueen and [John] Galliano … everyone was on the dance floor.”

It’s fitting that Formichetti traces his creative awakening to clubland. After all, MAC itself was born under disco lights – at the Manatee, a Toronto gay bar where Toskan and Angelo first met, long before mood boards and mission statements existed. What connected them then wasn’t commerce, but community: a belief that beauty could live in the margins.