How Much Should Your Clothes Cost?

WITH INFLATION at record highs and a possible recession looming, shoppers are scrutinizing clothing price-tags hard right now. Few will welcome what they’re about to see, said Margaret Bishop, a supply-chain expert who teaches at three top fashion schools in New York. “The cost of raw materials, labor and transport, and logistics have all risen…and I don’t see how we could avoid higher retail prices in 2023,” she said.

Even so, you needn’t get ripped off. If you want quiet, well-made items that will last—and you don’t require a hyped brand name or luxury logo, both of which hike up prices—how much should you expect to shell out? Here, we do the math for four wardrobe staples.

1. Cashmere Sweater

Look to pay: $325 and above

Much of the world’s cashmere comes from Mongolia, but not all cashmere goats’ shags are created equal. An all-important, industry-wide grading system delineates fibers according to length and width. Grade A denotes the finest, longest and most expensive cashmere, which creates the softest and most-durable sweaters. Fast-fashion brands peddling sub-$100 knits tend to use Grade B or C hairs, meaning they’re shorter, scratchier and more liable to pill and break down over time, said Edouard Leret, co-founder of New York cashmere brand Leret Leret.

If you crave a cozy sweater with stamina, Grade A is the way to go. But determining the hair pedigree of a prospective purchase isn’t exactly easy: In the U.S., brands aren’t obligated to list grades on tags—“100% cashmere” is no guarantee you’re getting top-quality fuzz. A good workaround? Look to brands that specify Grade A on their websites, and shop for sweaters in-person so you can feel for softness, a telltale sign. Grade A creations needn’t cost eye-watering, four-figure sums. Some brands manage costs by producing close to the cashmere source. Leret Leret, for instance, manufactures in Mongolia, “which allows us to sell at the price we do,” said Mr. Leret. His playful knits are emblazoned with contemporary artists’ designs and start at $475. Simpler sweaters will be cheaper still. Massachusetts brand Billie Todd is a good benchmark: Its unfussy crew necks, which use Grade A fibers spun at a leading Scottish mill, start at $325.

A soft, subdued cashmere knit

Knit in Scotland, it features a ribbed, sag-resistant neck.
Solid, ribbed trim at the cuffs and waist refuses to lose shape.
Grade-A cashmere—the softest, most-durable variety. Sweater, $325, BillieTodd.com

2. Oxford Shirt

Look to pay: $125 (or $175 for made-in-the-U.S.)

“A basic Oxford is pretty simple,” said Atlanta designer Sid Mashburn. What separates a prize button-up from a flimsier, forgettable one are nuances related to construction and finish. Brands make a calculated decision about how much their customer cares about these price-increasing details. For instance, Mr. Mashburn’s shirts are sewn with 22 stitches per inch as opposed to the standard 16. This more time-intensive construction results in a sturdier, more-polished product. Other features to consider: Are the buttons made from cheap plastic or lustrous trocas shell? Is the collar blessed with an inner lining that softens pleasingly over time or is it a cheaper, “fused” collar that remains rigor-mortis-stiff forever?

Mr. Mashburn’s Oxfords, which feature many such nice-to-haves, will set you back $125. He’s able to sell them for this amount—a reasonable sum considering the quality—because they’re sewn in Honduras, where manufacturing costs are lower than in the U.S. and much of Europe.

If you desire a made-in-the-U.S. shirt, prepare to cough up about $50 more. Philip Saul, owner of Boston store Sault New England, produces his shirts a mere 50 miles away in Fall River, Mass. They feature premium details similar to Mr. Mashburn’s but cost $178. “The same workers that make maybe $18 an hour were maybe getting $8 an hour 10 years ago, so it makes sense that quality, made-in-America things should cost more [now],” said Mr. Saul. When manufacturing costs for an item go up $5, he added, “the retail price goes up $10.”

An Oxford shirt with thoughtful details

A nicely rolled collar not a forever-stiff ‘fused’ variety.
Pearly, trocas-shell buttons as opposed to plastic versions.
22 stitches per inch—sturdier than the standard 16 stitches. Shirt, $125, SidMashburn.com

3. Jeans

Look to pay: $100 for a megabrand, under $300 for an independent maker

All jeans begin with more or less the same quality cotton, but this seemingly simple raw material boasts “one of the most complex. supply chains because it’s so global,” said Ms. Bishop, the professor. Cotton is often grown on one continent and spun on another, before it is transformed into a specific denim via a seemingly infinite choice of washes, blends and finishes—selvedge, vintage, raw, bleached, stretch, you name it. The deluge of jeans styles makes it tricky to determine a universal standard for quality and value, said Aaron Levine, a designer who consults for brands including Aimé Leon Dore and Vince and was formerly senior vice president of men’s and women’s design at Abercrombie & Fitch. The quality of rivets and zippers, and presence of flourishes like embroidery, nudge up the cost, he added.

Arguably a bigger price determinant: the size of the denim brand. “[Household brands] have such massive economies of scale that they receive price breaks on both raw materials and manufacturing,” said Mr. Levine. Such breaks are seldom extended to smaller brands, he said, which is why jeans from independent labels often cost more than, say, Levi’s or Wranglers.

When assessing a potential purchase, Mr. Levine asks himself: “Does the fabric feel like it’s got guts and integrity? Is the stitching straight and even?” Though he might splurge on tough-to-find vintage jeans, he has hard limits when buying new styles. “[Even] if a pair of new jeans fits me perfectly, I won’t go over $300.”

A solid pair of jeans from a big-name brand

Mid-weight denim washed using less water foreco reasons.
Precise, even stitching is a sign of quality jeans. Jeans, $98, Everlane.com

4. Leather Belt

Look to pay: $100 max

A great belt can cost $100 or even less. At around that price point, you can get leather of sufficient quality that you see the grain and, when you touch it, “you feel ‘leather’—not plastic or enamel or any finishes,” said Yuki Matsuda, the founder of Los Angeles fashion brands Monitaly and Yuketen. Because it’s rarely complicated to make a belt, raw materials usually account for the bulk of the final price. “Most of [that] goes into the leather. but buckles can incur really wild prices,” said Mr. Matsuda, if they’re a masterfully handcrafted creation rather than a basic brass design.

For some of the best—and best-priced—belts, Mr. Matsuda advises seeking out seasoned, small-scale brands. One such standout: Narragansett Leathers in Damariscotta, Maine, whose owner, Alan McKinnon, has handmade vegetable-tanned, bridle-leather belts since 1969. “When I first started [my most popular models] were $7 and now they are $55, 50 years later,” said Mr. McKinnon.

Can’t make it to a one-man shop in Maine for your new cincher? Visit independent retailers closer to home and peruse their in-house lines. Sault, the Boston retailer, makes agreeably understated belts at a nearby factory; they cost $89 a pop.

A handsome belt featuring first-rate leather and a no-nonsense, stainless-steel buckle

Hand-stitching around the buckle is straight and even.
English bridle leather with some graininess—not overly smooth. Belt, $89, SaultNE.com

Blue Buys

We asked men in Midtown Manhattan what they’d fork over for a pair of jeans.

“Probably, like, $50. I love to thrift—that’s where I find most of the jeans I like.”

—Dalton Bleckman, 19, student

“Up to $200. It depends on the occasion, what I’m wearing it for. [I’ll] go down to $40-60 but if it’s a name brand I’ll go up.”

—Frank Henderson, 62, works on convertible bonds desk

“100 bucks, 150 maybe. I like Levi’s. I think this pair [I’m wearing] are from Uniqlo. They’re quite cheap: 30-40 euros.”

—Tommaso Noseda, 32, consultant

“120 bucks. I like AG and Diesel. These [ones I’m wearing] are Zara, [they cost] under 60 bucks, probably.”

—Yoni Ron, 37, works in software sales

For decades, Australia has leaned into its reputation as the lucky country. But luck, as it turns out, is not an economic strategy.

What once looked like resilience now appears increasingly fragile. Beneath the surface of rising property values and steady headline growth, the Australian economy is showing signs of strain that can no longer be ignored.

Recent data paints a sobering picture. Australia has recorded one of the largest declines in real household disposable income per capita among advanced economies.

Wages have failed to keep pace with inflation, meaning many Australians are working harder for less. On a per capita basis, income growth has stalled and, at times, reversed.

And yet, on paper, things still look relatively solid. GDP is growing. Unemployment remains low. But that growth is increasingly being driven by population expansion rather than productivity.

More people are contributing to output, but not necessarily improving living standards.

That distinction matters.

For years, Australia’s economic success rested on a powerful combination: a once-in-a-generation mining boom, a credit-fuelled housing market, strong migration and a property sector that rarely faltered. Between 1991 and 2020, the country avoided recession entirely, building enormous wealth in the process.

But much of that wealth is tied to property. Around two-thirds of household wealth sits in real estate, inflated by leverage and sustained by demand. It has worked, until now.

The problem is the supply side of the economy has not kept up.

Housing supply is falling behind population growth. Rental vacancies are near record lows.

Construction firms are collapsing at an elevated rate. At the same time, massive infrastructure pipelines are competing with residential projects for labour and materials, pushing costs higher and delaying delivery.

The result is a system under pressure from all angles.

Despite near full employment, productivity growth has stagnated for years. In simple terms, Australians are putting in more hours without generating more output per hour. The economy is running faster, butgoing nowhere.

Meanwhile, government spending continues to expand. Public debt is approaching $1 trillion, with spending now accounting for a record share of GDP.

The gap between spending and revenue has been filled by borrowing for decades, adding further pressure to an already stretched system.

This is where the uncomfortable question emerges.

Has Australia become too reliant on a model driven by rising property values, expanding credit and population growth?

As asset prices rise, households feel wealthier and borrow more. Banks lend more. Governments collect more revenue. Migration fuels demand. The cycle reinforces itself.

But when productivity stalls and debt outpaces real income, the system begins to depend on constant expansion just to stay stable.

It is not a collapse scenario. But it is not particularly stable either.

Nowhere is this more evident than in housing.

The National Housing Accord targets 1.2 million new homes over five years, yet current completion rates are well below that pace. With approvals falling and construction costs rising, the gap between supply and demand is widening, not narrowing.

Housing is also one of the largest contributors to inflation, with costs rising sharply across rents, construction and utilities. Yet the private sector, from small investors to major developers, is struggling to make projects stack up in the current environment.

This brings the policy debate into sharper focus.

Tax settings such as negative gearing and capital gains concessions have undoubtedly boosted demand over the past two decades. But they have also supported supply. Removing them may ease prices briefly, but risks deepening the supply shortage over time.

That is the paradox.

Policies designed to make housing more affordable can, in practice, make the shortage worse if they discourage development. The optics may appeal, but the economics are far less forgiving.

It is also worth remembering that most property investors are not institutional players. The majority own just one investment property. They are, in many cases, ordinary Australians using real estate as their primary wealth-building tool.

Undermining that system without replacing it with a viable alternative risks unintended consequences, from reduced supply to higher rents and increased inflation.

So where does that leave Australia?

At a crossroads.

The country can continue to rely on population growth and rising asset prices to drive economic activity. Or it can shift towards a model built on productivity, innovation and sustainable growth.

The latter is harder. It requires structural reform, long-term thinking and political discipline.

But it is also the only path that leads to genuine, lasting prosperity.

The question is no longer whether Australia has been lucky.

It is whether it can evolve before that luck runs out.

Paul Miron is the Co-Founder & Fund Manager of Msquared Capital.