Where clothing is concerned, I generally like to follow a principle of ‘less is more.’ Sadly, this idea doesn’t apply to workout shorts when you live in a building sans laundry. The almighty Instagram algorithm, though, has paid close attention to this predicament and is dead set on steering me toward 5” inseams aplenty.
After some scrolling, I noticed a recurring marketing strategy: “Just like [insert brand], but at [insert fraction] of the price.” Be it a replica of the staid Nike Flex Stride or a budget-friendly version of a Lululemon above-the-knee-with-liner short in electric blue, I found this phenomenon rather peculiar. In fact, the only real giveaway that these enterprising e-commerce marketers took any shortcuts often came near the end of product descriptions. Rather than promising only marathon-grade aerodynamics or keying in on flexible stitching suited to acrobatic yoga, these garments guarantee applicability to a range of activities spanning pickleball to rock climbing.
So what’s really going on here, and will this radical transparency work? In years past, pulling back the curtains on global manufacturing norms may have been a risky tactic. Prior to 2021, most of us probably didn’t think all too much about the complex series of events that transpire between a click-to-buy interface and our doorsteps.
Yet as 80% of Americans report doing at least some of their shopping online, widespread shipping delays spurred on by accidentally-moored container ships or COVID-stricken locales don’t simply go unnoticed. Such uncertainty about receiving packages on time also shines a light on where, exactly, all these products really come from. Ruel Joyner, the owner of a furniture outlet in Georgia, told the New York Times that the acceleration of online shopping led to “mom and dad pointing and clicking" to buy a couch. And while new purchasing channels are no doubt good for business, what happens when it takes months for that order to show up? At a minimum, it requires a few extra explanations of how many moving parts it takes to get a piece of wood to a factory in China or India then across the ocean in a reasonable time frame.
From a production standpoint, however, budding companies are doubling down on claiming space in the same factory as the top dogs — and letting customers know about it. Whether this is always a smart idea is another story.
A good perspective on the matter comes in a blog post from Fred Perrotta, a marketing strategist and founder of the backpack company Tortuga. He noticed this trend in 2018, writing that, among bag and luggage companies, it’s commonplace to list the other clients your chosen factory works with.
He goes on to describe,
“Every brand-factory relationship is unique. Each company's needs are different. At Tortuga, we work with our suppliers to develop new products and to test new materials. Most factories don't want to do this. They want a sample to copy and big, repeat orders… If Rimowa or Tumi represents the bulk of that factory's business, then your needs do not matter to them.”
Although it might not be a sustainable long-term model for merchants, the ‘how the sausage gets made’ mentality Perrotta addresses is more relevant than ever. Casual shoppers have lately been forced to realize that their orders are competing for space on a Maersk cargo liner with countless other brands; why not turn a similar truth on the manufacturing side into a selling point? This lets online stores, such as Italic, state as their mission, “Luxury without labels. We make quality essentials using the same manufacturers as top brands for 50-80% less.”
Back to shorts that hug the thigh just right, then. When seeking strength in closet size among so many near-identical choices, it can seem hard to justify the higher price point of the real deal brands. I put this line of argument to my pal Lorenzo, a bonafide connoisseur of cool athletic garb and a person with very excellent taste in general. While acknowledging that, yes, the higher-priced labels likely do share an assembly line with an Amazon counterpart sold at a quarter of the price, he noted that what you’re really paying for is something different: accountability, consistency, and a phone number to call if you feel so inclined. Maybe one day I’ll re-trace the relevant supply chains, make some truly informed purchases, and achieve exercise-induced nirvana somewhere along the way.
Until then, damn, I wish I had a washing machine.