Me When They Ask If It’s a Sweatshop — We Have AC Now (Start a Clothing Brand, They Said…)

You’re on a call, talking through production timelines, fabric swatches, maybe a shipping estimate.

Everything’s going fine.

Then they pause, tilt their head slightly, and hit you with the question:

“But like… it’s not a sweatshop, right?”

And there it is.

The word that haunts every factory operator, agent, consultant, or small brand founder just trying to get a cotton tee made without being mistaken for a Bond villain.

Sweatshop.

Because apparently, unless your clothes are sewn in a lavender-scented coworking space with kombucha on tap, someone somewhere will assume your garments are made by 6-year-olds on a dirt floor.

Never mind the fact that the building is clean. The machines are modern. The team’s been there for years.

You even have air-conditioning now.

(Yes, Cheryl. It’s not 1904.)

If this sounds familiar — either because you’ve been accused, cornered, or just preemptively judged — welcome.

You’re officially deep into the unglamorous, misunderstood trenches of trying to start a clothing brand.

And if this is all a bit too real, Garment Sourcing 101 was built exactly for you.

It’s not just about how to find suppliers — it’s about how to understand them. Vet them. Communicate with them.

So when someone throws the word “sweatshop” at you, you’re not scrambling to justify your ethics over dinner.

You’re confidently saying: “Here’s how we work. And here’s why it works.”

Because here’s the thing:

Most people don’t actually know what a sweatshop is.

They just know it sounds bad. And they saw something once. On Netflix. Or TikTok. Or from their cousin who used to work at Zara “for like three months.”

They conflate “factory” with “abuse,” and “Asia” with “exploitation,” and “production” with “sketchy.”

They ask questions not because they want to understand — but because they assume the worst.

And that sucks.

Especially if you’ve spent months finding a solid supplier.

One that treats workers well. Pays them properly. Runs real compliance audits. And — yes — has actual AC.

But here’s where it gets more frustrating:

A lot of new founders want to avoid the “sweatshop” label…

while still demanding prices that literally require sweatshop economics to exist.

You can’t ask if the workers are safe and then demand a $3 garment.

You can’t claim you care about ethics while cutting corners on sampling, timelines, or transparency.

You can’t say “no sweatshops” and then ghost your factory over a 10 cent trim cost.

If you’re serious about being an ethical brand, you need to be serious about your systems.

Your sourcing strategy.

Your expectations.

Your budget.

And that’s where most founders crash.

They think they’re doing things “the right way” — because they say they care about fair labor.

But they don’t know how to vet a supplier.

They don’t know how to ask for audit reports.

They don’t know what good working conditions actually look like.

That’s where Garment Sourcing 101 comes in.

It’s a crash course in doing it properly — without greenwashing, fake factories, or awkward silence when someone asks, “So where are your clothes made?”

It teaches you:

• How to spot red flags in production

• What ethical sourcing actually looks like on the ground

• How to build supplier relationships based on mutual respect — not just MOQs and wishful thinking

• And how to walk into any meeting, market, or investor pitch with the confidence that your brand is built right

Because there’s a huge difference between “not a sweatshop” and “a solid, scalable, respectful supply chain.”

One is reactive. The other is proactive.

One dodges criticism. The other earns trust.

So the next time someone asks you if your stuff is made in a sweatshop, just smile.

Tell them:

“Nope — there’s AC, organized cutting tables, proper lighting, and enough workflow management to make your startup look like chaos.”

And if you can’t say that yet?

No judgment. Just get the tools to get there.

Start with Garment Sourcing 101.

Because starting a clothing brand shouldn’t feel like surviving a PR minefield.

It should feel like building something worth wearing — and worth being proud of.