I recently treated myself to some joyfully colourful leisurewear from a small business. I loved the “made-to-order” branding; it’s a model I’m always happy to pay a premium for because it promises less waste and zero unsold stock headed for landfill.

Because the brand is marketed as being based in England, you can imagine my confusion when a parcel arrived on my doorstep shipped directly from China, just days after I hit add to cart. My heart sank a little. This couldn’t be my order; I was braced for the 4-6 week lead time that usually comes with authentic slow fashion.

But lo and behold, inside was the co-ord I thought had been stitched right here in the UK.

Feeling more than a little miffed, I went straight back to their FAQs. Under the “Where are my clothes made?” section, I found the clever bit of linguistic gymnastics:

“All our clothes are designed here in the UK. When you place your order, our manufacturer prints, cuts, and sews your order before sending it to us for quality control…”

Ahhh. There it is. The classic “Designed in the UK” pivot. By mentioning England in the same breath as the manufacturing process, they let me fill in the blanks with my own assumptions. It wasn’t a lie, but it certainly wasn’t the whole truth.

I’m not here to throw a small business under the bus. I’d still rather support an independent creator than a faceless conglomerate. My order still helped someone chase their dream, and the quality was perfectly fine for the price. So why did this leave such a bad taste in my mouth?

Ultimately, I think it comes down to transparency. We’ve come to expect smoke and mirrors from massive corporations, but we look to smaller brands for honesty. When that line gets blurred, it feels like greenwashing-lite.

Is it too much to ask for the “who, where, and how” to be as loud and proud as the “what”? Or am I expecting too much in a world where “small business” doesn’t always mean “local craft”?