How Gail's has gone from bourgeois cafe to irritatingly robotic chain
A few years ago I was briefly obsessed with a computer game called Plague Inc. The premise was simple: you had to design an illness to kill everyone in the world. The trick was in calibrating your virus, bacteria or other infection to spread as far as possible before it became dangerous or, better still, fatal. Plague Inc was more fun than it sounds, and enjoyed a boom during Covid.
For some reason I found myself thinking of it the other day, when I read that Gail’s, the bakery chain, had estimated that there was scope in the UK for ‘300-500’ stores. Speaking at something called the ‘Lunch!’ event, managing director Marta Pogroszewska said there was ‘high demand’ for what Gail’s does, adding that the ‘bakery space is very interesting right now’. It plans to open 31 new stores this financial year, adding to the 121 it already has.
She’s right, the bakery space is interesting right now. Gail’s is a particular example. Like bankruptcy, or falling in love, Gail’s is something that happened slowly and then all at once. The first shop opened nearly 20 years ago, in Hampstead in 2005. As it inched its way through the capital’s more bourgeois enclaves – Notting Hill, Soho, Bloomsbury, Kentish Town – Gail’s became a byword for sophistication. Its distinctive red and white branding was a proof that you could relax, you were not far from a superior pastry and a babycinno for your toddler. If you were a Gail’s person you were better than other café goers.
Evidently the formula, devised by former Pizza Express maestro Luke Johnson, worked. In September 2021, as the rest of the hospitality industry was licking its wounds from the pandemic, Gail’s – which then had around 70 outlets – announced it was to be bought by Bain, the private equity firm, in a deal worth a reported ￡200 million. Flush with American cash, since then it has been opening new branches faster than you can say ‘San Francisco Sourdough’.
Yet there is a paradox here, which is that the Gail’s Superiority Feeling depends on the sense you are getting an elevated experience, not available to everyone. These loaves cost a fiver, which is a good feeling to those who can afford it; but apart from the cost, part of the joy is knowing that you can’t get them everywhere. ‘People might not buy a new Mercedes, but most people still treat themselves to sourdough bread,’ said the chief executive, Tom Molnar, earlier this year, showing a curious understanding of the word ‘most’.
The aim for Gail’s must be to somehow become ubiquitous before anyone can realise.
But as it expands, Gail’s is already starting to betray the irritating robotic tendencies of a large chain. It has an app that takes about 45 minutes to load, so is useless at the till. The other day in my local branch, I asked if they might slice a baguette. It wasn’t one of their typical slicing loaves, but I wanted sliced baguette for a starter. They said no. It was too long for their machine, they said. Cut it in half, I suggested: the kind of common sense solution that you’d get at a small bakery, but not a chain. No, they said again.
It’s a fiendish problem. There is gold in bakeries, for those who can get it right. Just look at Greggs. But the road to profit is paved with quotidian pains. After all, if I want to overpay for a disappointing baguette served by brusque staff on every street in the country, I can go to Pret.
What’s your experience of Gail’s? Join the conversation in the comments section below
Solve the daily Crossword
