The Mid-Range Mirage: Why "Affordable Quality" Often Isn't Either

There's a sweet spot in fashion retail that's becoming increasingly overcrowded—that comfortable middle ground where a shirt costs around $70 and a "nice" dress sits between $200 and $350. It feels reasonable, doesn't it? Not so cheap that you question the quality, but not so expensive that you lost sleep over the purchase.

This is what we call the mid-range mirage. And it's one of the most effective illusions in modern fashion.

The comfortable compromise that isn't

These mid-range brands have mastered the art of appearing premium without the premium price tag. Their stores have beautiful fit-outs, their packaging feels substantial, their marketing speaks the language of quality and consciousness. They position themselves as the smart choice—better than fast fashion, but more accessible than luxury.

The problem is, when you look beneath the surface, the numbers often don't add up.

Quality natural fabrics are expensive. Fair wages are expensive. Local manufacturing is expensive. Ethical supply chains are expensive. These costs are non-negotiable if you're genuinely committed to creating quality clothing responsibly.

So how do brands maintain those comfortable mid-range price points while projecting an image of quality and ethics? Usually, by compromising on exactly the things they claim to prioritise.

The fabric story

Walk into most mid-range stores today and you'll notice something: polyester is everywhere. Not just in activewear or outerwear where synthetic fibres serve a genuine purpose, but in blouses, dresses, pants—pieces that would traditionally be made from natural fabrics.

You'll see it cleverly disguised in fabric blends: "viscose polyester," "cotton blend," "silk touch polyester." The marketing will emphasise the natural component while downplaying the synthetic majority. A dress might be labelled "linen blend" when it's actually 70% polyester with just enough linen to make the claim technically true.

Polyester is generally cheap. It's also derived from petroleum, doesn't breathe like natural fibres, and takes hundreds of years to break down. It also holds ontol body odour. When these garments are inevitably discarded—often after a season or two because polyester doesn't age gracefully—they sit in landfill essentially forever.

Compare this to pure linen, which breathes beautifully in our Australian climate, becomes softer as you wash it, and biodegrades naturally. Or silk, which regulates temperature and drapes elegantly for decades. Or wool, which is naturally antibacterial and incredibly durable.

But here’s where it get even tricker: not all natural fibres are created equal. Some brands have caught onto consumers wanting “linen” or “natural fabrics” and have responded by using the cheapest possible versions—coarse, poorly processed linen that feels rough and wrinkles badly, or thin cotton that pills after a few washed. They can then charge mid-range prices because it’s technically a “natural fabric”, even though the quality isn’t there.

Quality natural fibres cost significantly more. Quality linen or silk can’t compete with the price point of polyester blends, not if you’re paying fair wages and manufacturing ethically.

The greenwashing game

Perhaps most troubling is how many mid-range brands have embraced “sustainability” in their marketing while changing very little about their actual practices.

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: the shift in consumer sentiment toward sustainability has caught up with their practices. But when your entire business model relies on cheap manufacturing to maintain those comfortable prices, you can’t simply pivot to ethical production. The numbers don’t work. Paying fair wages and manufacturing locally would either require dramatic profit cuts or price increases that would push you out of that sweet price point entirely.

So what’s the solution for many companies in this position? Greenwashing. Create the appearance of change without the costly reality of it.

You’ll see “conscious collections” that represent a tiny fraction of their overall range. “Sustainable lines” that use recycled polyester (still plastic, just repurposed plastic) while the rest of the sore remains unchanged. Marketing campaigns celebrating “eco-friendly initiatives” that are vague enough to be meaningless.

When you try to dig deeper, to verify these claims, to understand the specifics of their supply chain, to learn where and how garments are actually made, the information often isn’t available. Or worse, you discover claims that don’t hold up to scrutiny.

This isn’t to say every brand in this space is intentionally misleading. But the mid-range position creates an inherent tension: how do you deliver genuine quality and ethics at a price point that consumers find comfortable, when those things genuinely cost more than that comfortable price allows?

The real cost of real quality

Here’s what many consumers don’t realise: when you’re paying $800 for a dress made from quality natural fabric, manufactured locally with fair wages, that price isn’t inflated, it’s realistic.

At Tengdahl (and many other slow fashion brands), we occasionally hear that our pieces are expensive. We understand this reaction, especially when you can walk into a mid-range retailer and find something that looks similar for significantly less. But here’s what goes into our pricing:

Premium natural fabrics sourced from reputable suppliers. Pattern development and multiple fittings to ensure each piece drapes and moves beautifully. Local manufacturing with skilled makers earning fair wages. Quality control at every stage. The time and expertise of designers who’ve been perfecting their craft for decades.

Our profit margins aren’t what most people imagine. They’re enough to keep the business sustainable, to pay our team fairly, to continue creating the quality pieces our customers expect. But they’re far from extravagant. It’s the reality of local businesses.

When someone says to us our clothes are expensive, what they’re often really saying is “I’m used to paying less for something that looks similar.” And that’s the crux of the mid-range mirage—it’s trained consumers to expect a certain aesthetic at a certain price point, without questioning what compromises make that price possible.

The tragic reality is that mid-range pricing has made it incredibly difficult for genuine local businesses to compete. In the last few years alone, we’ve watched Australian slow fashion brands close their doors one after another. Monte, Arnsdorft, and Nique, all sustainable businesses committed to quality and ethical production, have had to close their doors. These weren’t businesses that failed because of poor quality or lack of demand. They struggled because consumers found their honest prices too high. When a mid-range brand can sell a dress for $200 using cheap fabrics and overseas labour, how does a local brand compete when their actual costs for ethical production exceed that price? The answer is often, they can’t. And we lose not just business, but decades of expertise, local jobs, and alternatives to the very system creating the problem.

The manufacturing reality

The decline of local manufacturing in Australia and in Brisbane is directly connected to this mid-range pricing pressure. When brands need to hit specific price points while maintaining healthy profit margins, local production becomes “too expensive.”

Manufacturing overseas isn’t inherently problematic. But it becomes problematic when it’s chosen purely for cost savings, when it means less transparency in working conditions, when it prioritises speed over quality, and when it makes supply chains so complex that accountability becomes impossible. Most importantly, it becomes problematic when it takes jobs away from our local makers and artisans and mean we slowly lose those local skills and expertise.

Local manufacturing costs more because we pay living wages. Because our workplace standards are higher. Because we can’t cut corners on conditions or compensation. These aren’t bugs in the system, they’re features. They’re the reason we should be supporting local production, not abandoning it for cheaper alternatives.

But as long as mid-range brands create the illusion that quality and ethics can coexist with their price points, consumers will continue to wonder why brands like ours charge more for what appears to be similar clothing.

A shift in consciousness

Here’s the hopeful part: We’re seeing more and more customers asking the right questions.

They’re turning garments inside out to check the fabric content. They’re looking for “Made in Australia” labels. They’re researching brands before buying. They’re asking about supply chains and manufacturing processes. They’re reading the fine print on those “sustainable” claims.

These conscious consumers understand that price tells a story. A $200 dress made from polyester blends and manufactured overseas for pennies tells one story. An $800 dress made from pure natural fibres by skilled local makers tells another.

They’re also discovering something liberating; buying less but better actually works. Three quality pieces you genuinely love and will wear for years provide more value—both practical and personal—than a wardrobe full of mid-range pieces that look fine but never feel quite right.

What this means for you

We’re not suggesting everyone needs to overhaul their entire wardrobe overnight or that mid-range retailers have no place in the fashion landscape. But we do think it’s worth questioning the comfortable assumptions these brands rely on.

When you see that perfectly priced dress, ask yourself: What fabric is this actually made from? Where was it made, and by whom? What compromises made this price possible? Will I still want to wear this in five years?

And when you encounter brands whose pricing seems high compared to mid-range alternatives, consider that the price might not be inflated—it might simply be honest.

At Tengdahl, we’ve spent 39 years refusing to compromise on things that matter: quality natural fabrics, thoughtful design, fair manufacturing practices, and pieces that genuinely last. This approach has never been the cheapest, and it never will be. But it is honest, it is sustainable, and it creates clothing that more becomes more valuable over time, not less.

The mid-range mirage is powerful precisely because it’s so comfortable. It lets us feel good about our purchases without confronting the uncomfortable realities of how modern fashion actually works. But as more consumers begin to see through the illusion, we’re optimistic we’re heading toward something better: a fashion landscape where quality, ethics, and honest prices aren’t luxury—they’re simply the standard.

And that’s a shift worth supporting, one conscious purchase at a time.