Photo: Keagan Henman
Every few weeks, someone slides into my DMs with a version of the same message: "I have this idea for a little clothing brand, and I've saved up a bit – but how do I even find someone to make it, and how do I know they won't take my money and disappear?" I get it. The design part feels like the scary bit until you actually try to hand your idea to a factory, and then you realise the design was the easy part.
I'm not a fashion insider. I stumbled through this with my own tiny run of printed tees a couple of years ago, made a few expensive mistakes, and eventually figured out what actually matters when you're picking who makes your clothes. So here's the practical version – the stuff I wish someone had just told me plainly.
Forget the "thousand-piece minimum" you keep reading about:
The first thing that scares people off is the minimum order quantity. You email a factory, they say the minimum is 1,000 units per style, you do the maths, and you quietly give up. I did exactly this, twice.
What took me too long to work out is that big minimums are a preference, not a rule. Plenty of makers now build their whole business around small brands and short runs, which is why the first thing I tell anyone is to look specifically for a low MOQ clothing manufacturer rather than assuming every factory expects a warehouse-filling order. Once you know that world exists, the whole thing stops feeling like a gamble you can't afford and starts feeling like a project you can actually test.
Judge them on how they answer your first three emails:
This sounds obvious, but it's the single best signal I've found. Before I care about price, I watch how a manufacturer communicates.
Do they reply within a day or two, or do you wait a week? Do they answer the actual question you asked, or send a copy-paste brochure? When I asked one factory a specific question about stitching on a collar, they replied with a two-line answer and a photo of a sample doing exactly what I'd described. Another took nine days and answered a question I hadn't asked. That contrast told me more than any price list could.
You are going to be trading dozens of messages with these people while your money and your idea are in their hands – if it's painful at the "just curious" stage, it does not get better once there's an order on the table.
Photo: Mathias Reding
Make them prove it with a sample before anything else:
Never, ever place a real order off a photo. A sample is the whole point. Pay for one or two, hold them, wash them, wear them for a week.
My first sample taught me the fabric I'd fallen in love with online was so thin you could read through it, and the neckline I'd approved on a screen sat weirdly high in real life. Those were twenty-pound lessons instead of two-thousand-pound ones. A manufacturer who happily sends samples and takes your notes on them is one you can work with. A manufacturer who pressures you to skip sampling and "just order, it'll be fine" is telling you everything you need to know.
Ask the boring questions about fabric and cost:
Here's my unglamorous checklist, learned by getting it wrong:
- What exactly is the fabric? Not "cotton" – the weight, the blend, whether it shrinks. Ask for the composition in writing.
- What's the all-in price per piece? Not just the unit cost. Shipping, sampling fees, print setup, and customs often appear later. Get the full number before you fall in love.
- What happens if a batch comes out wrong? A serious maker has an answer. A dodgy one gets vague.
- Who owns the design? Sounds paranoid until it isn't. Make sure your artwork stays yours.
None of this is exciting. All of it is the difference between a brand and a cupboard full of clothes you can't sell.
The all-in price question is the one that got me the worst. My very first quote looked brilliant until the setup fee for the print, the courier cost, and a customs charge I hadn't budgeted for turned a tidy little sum into something that made me wince. Now I ask for a single landed cost per finished piece, delivered to my door, before I let myself get attached to anyone. If a maker can't or won't give you that number, it's usually because the real figure is higher than the one they led with – and you'd rather find that out over email than on the day a parcel arrives with a bill stapled to it.
Photo: Husien Bisky
The red flags I now walk away from:
A few things make me close the tab now. Prices that seem too good to be true usually are – someone is cutting a corner you'll discover on delivery day. No willingness to sample is a hard no. And if I can't get a straight answer about where and how the clothes are actually made, I assume there's a reason they're being cagey. Trust your gut here; if a partnership feels slippery before you've paid a penny, believe it.
Start with one thing, done properly:
The mistake I see most often – and made myself – is trying to launch a whole collection at once. Five designs, three colours each, and suddenly you're managing a spreadsheet instead of making anything good.
Pick one product. Make it properly. Get it into a few real people's hands and listen to what they actually say versus what they politely say. You'll learn more from one well-made graphic tee than from a rushed range of fifteen, and you'll spend a fraction of the money doing it. Momentum comes from finishing one small thing, not from planning ten big ones.
Final Thoughts...
Choosing a manufacturer isn't really about finding the cheapest quote or the fanciest factory. It's about finding someone who communicates like a human, lets you test before you commit, and is honest about the parts that could go wrong. Do that, keep your first run small, and the whole terrifying "how do I even start" question quietly shrinks into a to-do list you can actually tick off.
