Is it more expensive to make clothes or to buy them? – The Self-Made Wardrobe the whole money thing…
The Self-Made Wardrobe is a project where I only wear garments I’ve made for a year.
It was a year about making things and seeing what happens.
For a long time making clothing was cheaper than, or at least as expensive as, buying ready-made clothing. As store bought clothing got cheaper, and the fast fashion industry grew & fed upon itself, this became less and less true. Until it became significantly more expensive to make clothe than to buy them. But is that really the case?
Is it more expensive to make clothes? Or to buy them?
The short answer is… it depends… ???
Since I have access to so many numbers for all of the clothes I made as part of the self-made wardrobe, I figured I’d go through and calculate out the cost for each garment.
The Cost of Materials
A quick note about the colors on the graph! The dark blue bars = pieces I bought materials for. The light blue bars = pieces I stash dove for. Having a large stash of yarn & fabric on hand all year was a huge(!!!) part of this project succeeding. Carrying on…
The least expensive piece cost $7.50 (US dollars btw), and the most expensive cost $126.40. *though! I didn’t include the cost of my winter coat or tank tops, which were approximately $221 for the coat, and $7 per tank top, and therefor would have been the most expensive and least expensive.
These dollar amounts are for the approximate cost of the materials + patterns/classes for each individual garment. I pulled from receipts where I could, and estimated (for fabric) or looked up (for the yarn) retail prices for what I pulled from my yarn & fabric stashes.
For the most part I didn’t include the cost of notions/thread/interfacing, since most of those came from my sewing kit, and would have only influenced the cost of the garment by a couple dollars.
The most expensive piece turned out to be my Versio Sweater for $126.40* and the least expensive piece was my Blue Kimono for $7.50 – no surprises there.
*interestingly, this sweater was the only piece where I combined stashed and bought materials…
So if the entire 27 piece wardrobe cost $1,047.95*, and the average was $38.81, then I could have easily bought a more expensive wardrobe (just like I could have easily, easily, easily spent significantly more on this project), and I probably could have bought a cheaper one.
*keeping in mind that this is for clothing only – this project didn’t include any undergarments, bags, shoes, or accessories.
But the problem with comparing made-by-hand clothing and store bought clothing is that you’re comparing the retail cost of raw materials with the retail cost of finished pieces of clothing – and those numbers represent two very different things.
No where in any of these numbers for my wardrobe is the cost of my time. Or the cost of my education, or experience that comes from a lifetime of royally screwing up projects (aka a lifetime of sewing & knitting experience).*
*because somethings can only be learned by fucking them up yourself.
And with those “hidden” or “sunk” costs comes the quality that made-by-hand-with-love clothing has, which store-bought clothing generally doesn’t, is constant, focused, attention.
On some level, every single piece of clothing is made-by-hand. From the cheapest fast fashion T-shirt to the highest end couture – some human being sat at a sewing machine or a table with fabric + thread + needles, and in collaboration with many other human beings, made a garment.
But the devotion and attention to detail that made-by-hand-with-love clothes are made with, generally translates into longer lasting garments.
So it only seems natural, since I have access to how much each garment I made cost, and how many times I wore them, to calculate the cost/wear of each garment.
The Cost per Wear of a Garment
The “cost per wear” of a garment is often an idea that gets tossed around as a justification for spending more money on higher quality garments, but the argument is not usually accompanied by a number, probably because calculating that number in reality is pretty annoying (unless you’ve been taking daily photos of yourself and what you’re wearing for a year… which I still can’t quite believe I did…)
Obviously, these aren’t the cost per wear over the lifetime of the garment, just over one 365 day stretch of time. I’m not just going to get rid of everything now that the projects over, so the cost per wear is only going to get lower as I wear the piece more often. And I expect to be wearing, at least some of, these pieces for years.
I expect to be wearing these clothes for years, not only because they are well made, but also because I designed them to last.
Most of the pieces I made for this wardrobe aren’t trendy pieces, they are mostly solid versatile pieces – they’re not all basic basic in the way that my black sweater or black maxi skirt are basics, but most of them are pretty damn versatile and can be styled tons of ways (even pieces like my pirate skirt or Versio sweater).
And that brings up another bonus of making your own clothing, that isn’t taken into account when we talk about the cost – you can create versatile pieces.
If a garment is only meant to be worn once or twice, there’s no point making it versatile. But if your clothes are built to last then you probably want them to be more than just one thing. Kind of like in a relationship.
So all of that being said…
The average cost per wear of my self-made wardrobe was $4.55 per wear. Figure I averaged two of these pieces a day (sometimes one in summer or three in winter), and that comes to $10 per day.*
*not counting tank tops but the cost per wear on those negligible is less $0.10 per day. And remember this doesn’t include shoes/bags/accessories/undergarments.
But that average includes the cost per wear of the two garments that I only wore once. And since I only wore them once, their current cost per wear price is the price of the whole garment.
If I had worn them twice, that cost per wear would be cut in half, and bring the average cost per wear of my whole wardrobe down from $4.55 to $3.67.
And if I take the average cost per wear of my wardrobe without the two pieces of clothing I only wore once, the average is $3.00 on the nose.
And again, this average can only go down as I wear each piece of clothing more often.
So I guess, the conclusion is… it depends???
I started this post asking, “Is it more expensive to make clothes? Or to buy them?”
And I guess the answer is “it depends?” Which is a quite unsatisfying answer.
But it brings us back to transparency, the elements that influence the cost of things, and the problems with comparing store-bought clothing and made-by-hand-with-love clothing.
Using my black maxi skirt as an example again, that skirt cost me $18 +notions +time +experience.
I could have bought a black maxi skirt at Forever 21 for $20, at Zara for $40, at Madewell for $100, or at Anthropologie for $100+ or at any other price point I could think of.
I could have bought any of those and it might have lasted for 92+ wears, or not.
My time and experience are both certainly not cheap, and the black maxi skirt was absolutely one of the less expensive & fastest pieces in my wardrobe.
And none of this takes into account the enjoyment I get from making, the enjoyment I get from shopping (yes I enjoy both), or the frustrations of either.
Maybe it all comes out in the wash?
It sort of feels fruitless to compare made-by-hand-with-love clothing and store bought clothing, given how many elements (hidden and transparent) go into “the cost” of a piece of clothing, and how different those elements are between store bought and handmade.
And aside from the actual money cost (to us the consumer) of a piece of clothing, there are the intangible, but very real, pros and cons/benefits and frustrations for each way of obtaining clothing.
When you make your clothing yourself…
You can get a perfect fit, if you’re willing to spend the time, and you have the skills. You can make exactly what you want, if you know what you want, and you have or are willing to obtain the resources (tools, knowledge, materials, etc.) to make it happen. You can make your clothing one of a kind, if you spend the time searching for unique patterns & fabrics. You don’t have to support sweatshops, if you have the skills, and you know where your materials come from. You have an enjoyable hobby, if you enjoy it.
When you buy your clothing…
You can wear your clothes immediately, if they already fit and don’t need to be taken to a tailor. You can wear pieces of art made by some of the greatest designers in the world, if you can afford them, and they fit you. You can try things on before committing to them, if you have the time. You can support ethically produced clothing, if you have the time to research brands, and the money to afford it. You have an enjoyable hobby, if you enjoy it.
I could go on about this all day, so I should probably stop here, since this piece is already even longer than the first self-made wardrobe wrap up piece I did, about how often I wore each garment.
Maybe the best conclusion to this question is… to each their own, and as is usually the case (at least in the US, in 2015) new clothing is never about the money.
and in the realm of ‘real books’ – To Read Over Coffee #8
A collection of links from the past few weeks that I think are interesting/amusing/educational/insightful enough to read/watch/listen & think about over a cup of coffee.
“Making it work as a designer: Releasing Free Patterns”
The topic of free patterns & content is pretty damn divisive among knitwear designers (and “content creators” in general). Kat Goldin at Slugs on the Refrigerator (awesome blog name) wrote an excellent piece about how free content (when done well) can provide tremendous amounts of value to readers and (when used smartly) can in fact be beneficial for creators. Yay smart win-wins!!
“Reading for pleasure builds empathy and improves wellbeing, research from The Reading Agency finds”
More excuses to read? Yes please.
“Why the end of trends is great for ethical fashion and terrible for fast fashion”
Not the best written article, but yay for ethical fashion.
“‘The way you dress has never completely protected African Americans,’ echoes Warren. ‘But that doesn’t mean that black men still don’t effectively use fashion in a strategic manner. I personally have realized that your fashion could determine your life chances.'”
And in the realm of “real books”…
I listened to Tina Fey’s Bossypants, Felicia Day’s You’re Never Weird On The Internet (Almost), and got halfway through Amy Pohler’s Yes Please – all of which are wonderful. (I ran away to Maine for a couple days, which meant there was a lot of travel time, perfect for funny books by smart women).
I’m also partway through The Color of Nature by Pat Murphy and Paul Doherty, which is a beautiful book about the physics behind color in nature.
Thoughts from day 366 of a 365 day project.
The Self-Made Wardrobe is a project where I only wear garments I’ve made.
It’s a year long experiment in getting dressed without clothing labels –
it’s a year about noticing patterns, trying things, and observing what happens.
A string of semi-connected, sort of jumbled thoughts from day 366 of a 365 day long self-made wardrobe project.
1. Intentionally breaking a 365 day long habit feels strange as hell.
2. I spent my entire shower trying to figure out what the hell to wear, and then I was running late – so I ended up throwing on my black maxi skirt, and a tank top.
3. Unpacking my wardrobe has turned into something of an inowanna-iguana.
4. Apart from a few specific pieces that I miss like hell, I can only vaguely remember what clothes I had – though it seems there were piles of them.
5. I didn’t quite realize how much brain space this project was taking up.
Not in a big-huge-thing-all-the-time way, but in a lots-of-little-things-to-continually-keep-track-of sort of way. It feels like a whole chunk of brain space has been freed up (and is now tired).
6. Getting out the door is surprisingly much faster. Even though taking a daily photo took less than five minutes. Not sure how this works.
7. 365 days is a lot of days. I mean, I knew that. But this project drove home something about the potential of cumulative effort.
Focused energy + many days = wicked powerful.
8. Play & games are important. Very important.
365 days is pretty daunting.
But 1 day isn’t. And if I can do 1 day, I can probably do 2 days.
And 2 days can become 4 days. And 4 days is basically 5.
And 5 days isn’t terribly hard to turn into 10 days.
Which you can turn into 20 days with a bit of effort.
And if you’re done 20 days, you might as well do a whole month.
One month becomes two, becomes three. You’re a quarter of the way there.
And then day 100 feels pretty damn good. So three months becomes six.
And 200 days feel pretty good too. So 200 becomes 250, becomes 275.
And then day 300, and after 300 days, the last 65 feel like a walk in the park.
9. Systems make everything easier.
10. So does permission to change those systems.
11. And permission to say fuck it.
12. I’m really, really glad I’m not someone who accidentally leaves clothing places. Like, really, really, really, really, really, glad. That would have made this project practically impossible.

(click to embiggen)
(click to embiggen)





