I have a shirt that I bought eleven years ago. Not that it hangs perfectly in my wardrobe as some sort of garment museum piece I’ve sworn never to wear – I wear it all the time. Regularly.
Quite heavily, actually. The fabric has softened into that lovely worn-in feel that makes you grab it before the others, the collar points haven’t tried to rebel despite hundreds of washes and irons, the cuffs have been let down twice but the body still looks like it could keep going for another decade. It still feels like the best shirt I own.
It wasn’t cheap. It cost me £75 back in 2014 from a tiny men’s wear shop in Manchester run by a guy called Steve who could wax lyrical about cotton oxford cloth weave like your nan talks about Sundays.
Worth every penny.
After researching British-made denim. Compare that to cheap shirts I bought last year from the high street. They’re already shirts that I wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to mutiny in the wash next time I clean them.
Buttons falling off at the seams (literally), collars refusing to behave, stretched out fabric in all the worst places, leading to accidental_display:none; dressing room disappointments. They cost £45 each in the sale of a “premium” high street retailer. I’ve replaced enough of them to more than cover the cost of buying decent shirts in the first place.
Don’t get me wrong – some of this is just middle-aged shirt wearing reminiscing (although let’s be honest, there probably is a bit of that. I just had a birthday where I turned forty.). But most of it is plain old arithmetic.
Over the last decade or so, menswear – especially British menswear – has spawned this weird price-quality disparity where high street prices have crept up while quality has stubbornly remained the same or got worse, paving the way for independent brands to step into the void offering significantly better products for better prices. It’s been a whirlwind. The last five years alone have seen more great independents launch than I can count – many of them founded by industry veterans who saw this gap and leapt at the chance to fill it.
Mostly direct-to-consumer operations, they run small and keep their offerings tightly focused on doing a few things really well instead of hollow collections stretched thinly across dozens of products. They’re not cheap, but they offer real value in ways that the high street struggle to match anymore. Case in point – Forge Denim.
Established by former Nudie Jeans designer Jonathan Wilson out of a studio workshop in Walsall, their jeans stand up favourably to brands charging double what they do. I first discovered Forge when writing about UK-made denim three years ago and ended up buying a pair of their 14oz selvedge jeans to see what all the fuss was about. Now they’re the benchmark that I judge ALL other jeans against – proper selvedge denim from an established mill, construction that cares about details most brands cut corners on, craftsmanship that appeals to denim snobs and regular jean buyers alike, and a fit they’ve obviously spent hours obsessing over.
And the really crazy part is they’ve kept a significant amount of production in the UK – not everything, but way more than you’d expect at that price point. “We could make all of our jeans cheaper overseas,” founder Mike told me when I visited their workshop last year. “But then we’d just be another brand slapping a story on top of a product with no soul.” And he’s not just spinning you that line to sell more jeans – I’ve seen their workshop. Seen the facilities that their jeans are produced in, met the team who make them happen. It’s legit.
Gilmore & Shaw do incredible shirts. Started by two ex-Thomas Pink employees who jumped ship when they saw quality slide after LVMH bought the brand and started demanding margins they couldn’t honour, Gilmore & Shaw identified the gap between high-street pricing and “proper shirt” pricing, and set out to prove you could offer something amazing in that no-man’s land in-between. Their oxford cloth button-down shirts retail at £89, which seems pricey until you remember how much your “premium” high street shirts cost.
They’re honestly in the same league as shirts that cost £100+ more from brand names you’ve heard of. Better patterning, single-needle stitching throughout, proper attention to detail like pattern matching at seam lines, and construction details that survive the wash. Non fused collars.
Non fused cuffs. Details that might not matter to the casual shirt buyer, but will matter to you if you’ve done any reading on what makes a “proper shirt.” Because that’s the thing about all of these independent brands – the internet has given us customers who actually care about what they’re buying. I’m willing to bet that twenty years ago the average man didn’t know the difference between fused vs non fused construction, selvedge vs non-selvedge denim, or horn buttons vs plastic.
Now we do, because we can look it up. And these smaller brands are speaking DIRECTLY to customers who care about those things. Customers who are willing to pay more for better products because they understand the value.
Community Clothing is the standout for me. Founded by Patrick Grant of E. Tautz, Workwear, and Norton & Sons fame Community Clothing is built on an interesting (and wildly effective) model – using slack production time at British factories to create cleanly designed basics that eschew the typical industry markup.
Their £39 t-shirts are cut from real middle-weight jersey that doesn’t curl at the edges after washing, their knitwear is sourced from heritage Scottish and English mills, and everything is stripped back of marketing-led details that you never need but always seem to find in your wardrobe. It’s anti-fashion before that became cool to be anti-fashion. Garments that are built to last, not built to ride trends.
The indie knitting game is strong. Colhay’s was founded by ex-city financier James who was disillusioned by dropping quality levels at luxury knit brands, and recognises loudly and proudly in their own words as producers of luxury goods. They work with the same Scottish mills that supply brands charging three times as much to create jumpers that are some of the best constructed I’ve come across.
Their shetland crewneck is £195, which isn’t cheap but when you can see equivalent jumpers from designer brands starting at £500+ you do the math. They’re also freakishly warm. I’ve had their submariner roll neck for three winters now and still sees me through anything Scotland can throw at me – and looks better now than when I bought it.
Technical gear is where Finisterre have made their name. Started out life as a Cornwall-based surf brand they’ve since transcended those roots to become one of the most interesting technical brands out there – environmentally credible WITHOUT you having to read through a maze of marketing speak to figure out how, and much better looking across their collection than your average brand exploitin’ Surfer Danny vibes. Insulated jackets that offer similar performance to big outdoors brands for the same or cheaper price points, with way cleaner aesthetics and far more transparent supply chains.
Waterproof jacket #1 on that survived three years of Scottish hillwalking abuse before finally giving up the ghost. My Finisterre x Mountain Equipment Kusagake hybrid is now my go-to for winter cycling, and still keeps me as dry as the day I bought it. If you have the budget, PWVC. v is probably the brand I recommend most to other people.
Why? Because Private White VC. are quietly doing something special – operating a full fledged factory in Manchester that produces outerwear to rival luxury brands at a small markup. Literally.
Their Ventile cotton rain mac retail for £595. I’ll say that again – FIVE HUNDRED NINETY FIVE POUNDS. Go look at one from a designer brand and it’ll start at £1,200+.
But PWVC. make theirs entirely in Britain by workers earning actual wages. Most of these brands succeed because they cut out flab that gets added to retail prices at every step. Selling direct to consumers instead of through retailers.
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Operating small, focused collections instead of diluting quality and design-through-season churn. Speaking directly to customers who care about what they’re buying. Putting that money back into the things that matter to menswear obsessives like better materials, construction, and carefully designed details.
They don’t try to do everything – instead they focus intensely on doing specific things really well. Footwear is another category that’s seen massive disruption from independents in the last few years. Take Crown Northampton – producing handmade shoes in the same village as both Crockett & Jones and Edward Green, yet prices that sit at roughly half of what those “better” brands charge.
And what they charge still feels steep – Crockett & Green shoes are British craftsmanship at a luxury price point. Crown offers a made-to-order service that allows you to specify EVERYTHING about the shoes you want – from leather to sole configuration. No handmade premium.
Just good shoes. I bought a pair of their desert boots two years ago and they’re already developing a patina I love. Similar story at Duke & Dexter.
They started off purely doing velvet slippers – amazing velvet slippers. But brand founder Jacob transgressed those early successs into a brand making genuinely interesting footwear at the awkward price gap between high street rubber soles and “proper” shoe prices. All made in England, using Italian leathers they’re currently offering a range of loafers for around £220 – not cheap, but of comparable construction to your Crockett & Jones equivalents that retail from £395 and don’t come with the hefty made-to-order premium.
Skeptical? A good friend of mine who works in footwear had me try on a pair he’d been wearing for two years – a squeakier-clean version of his own pair was sitting here in London. You could see how well they were made by how they’d aged.
You’ll notice I haven’t mentioned any of the huge luxury giants who’ve also got their hands in the “proper clothing” game these days. Well that’s because all these independents are quietly killing them at their own game. Luxury sells craftsmanship.
They spend fortunes telling you their garments are hand-stitched when anyone with half a sewing machine and an internet connection knows that’s bullshit. But many of these independent brands ARE hand-stitching wherever feasible. Pattern cutting techniques that these luxury brands could learn from.
They’re just not spending millions telling you about it. Case in point – Blackhorse Lane Ateliers. Based out of a London warehouse they hand-make jeans in proper selvedge denims using construction details that’ll have hard-core denim heads drooling, but pricepoints that while not cheap, are entirely reasonable considering what you’re actually getting.
Oh and they repair everything they sell, run workshops teaching you how to maintain your clothes longer and are damn near fully transparent about their costs and margins. It’s alien compared to both your Zara’s and your Thom Browne’s. Want workwear that fits the modern wardrobe without looking like you’re headed to a builder’s merchants?
Universal Works has got you covered. Started by David Keyte after a successful stint at Paul Smith and Maharishi, Universal Works have built a small empire on modern-day classics that bridge the gap between casual and smart without trying too hard. Prices hover that sweet spot between high street and designer prices, and justify themselves every time you look closer at the fabrics used, the construction, and how those things hold up over time.
I have a chore jacket of theirs that I bought eight years ago and still get compliments on today. Want a simple t-shirt that’ll actually fit and not twist after washing like every other “premium” t-shirt you’ve owned? Try The White T-Shirt Company.
Yep, they do exactly what they say on the tin. Made their organic cotton t-shirts in multiple colours and fits, and will actually keep their shape and colour through years of washing. At £35 they’re about three times what you’ll spend on a high street pack of five, but will last you five times as long.
I have one I got as a birthday present six years ago that I still wear religiously. These brands don’t brag about how great they are. When you dig into their sites they’ll happily explain what fabrics they’re using, how their clothes are constructed, and why they’ve decided to shape a garment a certain way.
They’re not pretending to be lifestyle brands when they’re actually selling clothes. There are no mystical supply chain conditions that can only source 12 shirts at a time to create faux scarcity. You’ll be hard pressed to find collaborations.
Because they’re just selling clothes. Amazingly well made clothes. The challenges facing these smaller guys are obvious.
Thin margins mean they have nowhere near the buffering of VC money these retail “start-ups” get. They can’t compete with high street prices because their quality guarantees and ethical production requirements would still bankrupt them. And awareness is a constant battle when your biggest marketing expense is likely your Shopify subscription.
These brands are lucky to get retweets from fashion influencers, instead of the paid promotions thatbig budgets buy. Fortunately a lot of these brands have weathered it better than you’d think – their direct relationships with customers helping not just with financial stability, but valuable insight into what their customers wanted and how to build better products. Physical retail is opening in limited capacities for some – flagship stores are few and far between but judging by the success of companies like Hail Mickey who’ve created showroom spaces instead of shopping stores, Indie brands are hedging their bets on providing experiences vs. spaces to shop.
And many are staying digital only to cut as many costs as possible. The benefit for customers is a burgeoning scene producing truly better alternatives to the worn out false dichotomy of disposable fast fashion vs astronomical luxury prices. Building a truly ethical wardrobe full of well-made, long-lasting clothes no longer requires you to break the bank or settle for poor quality.
It DOES take effort. Wanting to know where your stuff comes from means you’ll naturally avoid anything that sells fast fashion at scale.
But there are fantastic brands producing everything you could want RIGHT NOW that operate completely outside of that model.
They just require a little more digging to find. My wardrobe has slowly evolved to include more and more clothes from these sorts of independents. Not because I feel like I’m climbing some moral high ground (though looking at fast fashion supply chains will give you a bit of a conscience), but because I like buying clothes that fit me better, last longer, and ultimately cost me LESS over the lifecycle of the garment.
That old Oxford shirt now has some stellar companions in jeans, knitwear, outerwear and shoes that are all ageing way better than they ever would have if I’d bought from the high street. Buying from small businesses who obviously give a shit about what they’re making is great too. Seriously, reach out to any of the brands I mentioned in this article if you have questions.
My mid-season Forge Denim inquiry email was replied to by the owner within hours. Colhay’s sent me extra buttons and thread in an exact colour match to repair a damaged jumper cuff WITHOUT me asking. These people aren’t posting instagram stories about their awesome customer service – they’re small businesses who CARE about your experience.
So next time you find yourself mindlessly reaching for your credit card to drop £50 on a shirt you know will likely try to escape your body after five washes, or £150 on a pair of jeans made with sketchy construction details and a marketing team’s idea of trendy denim, look a little harder at what Britain’s independent makers are producing. You’ll be surprised at some of the best value menswear around is coming from these small guys right now.
