My dad has got a framed sales receipt screwed to the wall in his study. It’s yellowed with age and features a stereotype traditionally ugly-man-from-Manchester font. It was given to his father by his tailor when he bought his first “proper” suit in Manchester back in 1952.
Made in England is stamped proudly across the bottom. He waves it triumphantly whenever we get onto the subject of how clothes aren’t what they used to be. Back in his day things were made to last and it was clearly labelled where they were made.
Ah, poppa, I adore you to bits but you do like to gloss over bits of history. Yeah, things might have been built to last back then but don’t forget about the power cuts and three-day weeks too.
Of course, he’s not wrong.
When “Made in Britain” labels were straightforward. If your jacket said “British Made” it was cut and sewn in Savile Row. If your shoes said “Made in Britain” they were lasted in Northampton.
If your jumper was “Made in England”, you can bet your bottom dollar it was knitted in the Scottish Borders. Back then. Fast-forward to 2024 and that same label sits in a weird legal and ethical grey area that’s about as muddy as the Manchester Ship Canal.
It hit me just how murky things had got about three years ago. I was writing an article about brands making knitwear in Britain. I paid a visit to a factory in the Midlands that had been producing jumpers since the 18th century.
Stunning place, incredible jumper. The factory manager (salt-of-the-earth type bloke called Terry who’d worked there since the 70s) was giving me the tour when I spotted some labels waiting to be sewn inside. Made in Britain they proudly proclaimed in immaculate navy embroidery. “So all of this is made here from start to finish?” I enquired, already flicking through my notebook to write a worthy paragraph about tradition and British heritage blah blah.
Terry paused, giving me a look that I can only describe as “you-think-you’re-so-smart-face”. “The wool actually comes from Italy, then it’s dyed in Portugal. The panels get knitted in China and then we assemble and finish them here.” “And that’s allowed to be British made?” I squeaked, mortified that I’d somehow discovered the shiny headed Father Christmas isn’t real for a second time. “As long as the last substantial transformation is here, then yes,” he replied patiently. That’s when I started paying attention to what “British made” actually means in the year 2024.
Legally speaking (“substantial transformation” is the term they use), the “last bit” of something being made in Britain is all that’s required for a brand to hang the Union Jack badge proudly on their Instagram page. That could be as simple as stitching buttons on a shirt that was cut and mostly sewn in Asia. It could be attaching a sole to a shoe upper that was made entirely overseas.
Not illegal, of course. But hardly what I think anybody imagines when they spot a tiny British flag on a label and happily pay the premium that brands expect you to. Don’t get me wrong, a lot of these brands are fantastic.
Super-duper quality stuff that will probably outlive most of us. But that’s because they’re miles apart from what most “British made” brands are actually producing. There’s tiers to British manufacturing, from the outright genuine article to what I’m gonna term “British-ish”.
If you don’t understand the differences then you’re missing out on some key industry knowledge. And if you care about actually supporting British craftsmanship then it’s information you really need to know. First up is the good stuff.
The brands that really do everything from start to finish on these rainy islands of ours. Sadly, these are very much the exception as opposed to the norm. Price-wise, they also reside at the premium end of the market.
The likes of Private White V.C. in Manchester source cloth woven within 30 miles of their factory before making everything in-house. Hiut Denim in Wales genuinely do start-to-finish jeans production. There are even some shoemakers in Northampton who still source leather from local tanneries before completing the entire construction process in Britain.
I visited Crockett & Jones’s factory last winter for a feature. Each pair of shoes that comes off their production line goes through 202+ different processes. All of which happen in that factory.
They were happy to admit that the leather was sourced from a European tannery but literally every other part of the construction was done in the same Victorian building where they’ve made shoes since 1879. When you pay £450 for their oxford shoes, you’re paying for that. It ain’t cheap but at least you know exactly where your money is going.
Then you have “mostly made in Britain”. Jackets made in London from Italian fabric. Bags made in a Scottish workshop from leather sourced from a specialty tannery in Belgium.
This covers a huge swathe of the British premium market, but it’s also fair enough. Certain materials can’t be sourced here any more for various reasons so insisting they must be would be ridiculous. If the majority of the construction happens in Britain then I don’t really have a problem with some parts coming from Italy.
Then you have “assembled in Britain”. These are the products that have major components made elsewhere but are finished/stitched/sueded together here. Legally, they can brandish a flag and write “Made in Britain” all over their products.
But ethically…nah. It’s true what they say about rights of dealing. Everything is assembled in Britain!
Well no it’s not. Half of the making happened elsewhere. Lastly, we have my new favourite phrase “British finishing”.
Essentially this is where a product is imported into the UK completely finished but then given a minor ‘British transformation’ so they can slap ‘Made in Britain’ on the sleeve. Buttons stitched on? Made in Britain.
Polish applied? Made in Britain. Final Quality Cheque happened in Britain?
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MADE. IN. BRITAIN.
I’ve emailed/followed up with/confronted countless brands about this practise over the years. The range of reactions I’ve had back could (and will) fill another column. They range from “well it’s perfectly legal so stfu” to “we’d love to make everything in Britain but just can’t get the skills” to “FOH get in the real world you privileged dick” – I’m still blocked on Instagram by one menswear company owner who sent me that in response to asking questions about their manufacture in a column I wrote.
See the issue with all of the above is that brands who autumn into the lowest categories can effectively hide behind the ones who genuinely do everything in Britain. You’ve got a company who stitches, cuts, designs and makes everything in the UK sat next to someone who does literally the finishing in a shop showroom, but both can say “Made in Britain”. Guess which brand can undercut the other on price?
Yup. Asda may well make some of their clothes in Britain, but they’re not gonna be able to charge the same price as your local tailor who does everything himself. It makes certain product categories especially frustrating.
Tailoring is one of them. There’s been a resurgence in recent years for British bespoke and made-to-measure suits. But what constitutes “British tailoring” seems to be lost on some brands.
I’ve seen so-called British-made suits that were cut and constructed 100% in Asia then put through a steam press and quality checked in London. Surely that’s not “tailoring”. Shoes are another annoying one.
Nothing screams “quality” in footwear like a “Made in Northampton” label. But ask certain brands where the “Northampton” bits happen and you’d be forgiven for thinking they only operate out of shops. I won’t name names (legal have told me about libel several times over) but if you’re paying Northampton prices pay close attention to what parts are actually made there.
Knitwear is perhaps my pet hate. Scotland, the West Country, Ireland; we have an amazing heritage of producing jumpers. But the actual skills base that creates those garments has been eroded over recent years.
Many brands that now describe themselves as “traditional British knitwear” brands don’t make a bloody thing here. They design here, print the patterns here and then stitch the damn things in God knows where. The issue is cyclical.
As production leaves, we no longer have the skills-base here to manufacture. But we can’t manufacture because the jobs leave. Anyway.
How do you actually avoid getting stung? Good question. Here’s a few tips.
Ask questions. The first thing I do if I spot “British Made” on a garment is cheque where else it was made. “Made in England”? Brilliant, where was it made in England? “Designed in Scotland, made in Devon by Turkish specialists using Italian Laces” doesn’t really count.
A lot of brands who genuinely do everything will shout about it from the rooftops. Why? Because they’re proud.
They’ll likely be able to drill down to the individual who stitched your jeans on a Saturday afternoon. They’ll send you pictures. Video tours of the factories.
There’s absolutely nothing wrong with asking. Price will usually be a good indicator. UK manufacturing doesn’t come cheap, for lots of reasons I won’t bore you with.
Suffice to say, if you’re looking at a shirt that says it’s “British-made” but is priced at £50 then physics tells us something isn’t adding up. Look out for the genuine articles. A bunch of the best British manufacturers have banded together in independent schemes you can look for. “Made in Britain” the organisation has created a label and certification process you can trust.
There’s also “Heritage Crafts” who each award their own seal of approval for brands who meet (often higher) standards than the legal definition of “British made.” If you can, visit factories. A lot of British manufacturers are more than happy to show you where their stuff is made. I’ve toured Welsh woollen mills, Scottish knitwear factories and English shoeworkshops where you can literally follow the process from start to finish.
It’s an excellent day out, believe me. You’ll leave feeling enlightened and ridiculously loyal to brands that go to such lengths. Like I said at the start, I don’t think everything has to be made completely in Britain to be worthy of that label.
In this day and age, that’s frankly impossible for most things. The spirit of “made in Britain” is being eroded by brands who are wilfully deceptive with where they produce their stuff. If they’re happy to attach a leather patch and call it British-made then I’ve zero time for them.
Here’s the thing.
Genuine “Made in Britain” is having something of a resurgence. Fast fashion’s made many of us realise how bad things can be on the far side of the world.
Consumers are pushing for better, more transparent products and the brands that weathered the storm of the last decade are noticing. Family businesses that have been in Northampton for generations tell me they’re busier than ever thanks to staying put when it made financial sense to move production overseas. There’s also loads of new, small-batch makers popping up all over the country.
Artisans, if you will. Guys using traditional skills with a modern approach to retail and marketing. Leather workers in East London, knitwear co-ops in Glasgow, denim stitchers in Bristol.
They’re not making things how they would’ve been made when my grandad was buying suits. But they know their limitations. They’re upfront about where things are made, where the struggles are and why their shirts cost £250.
