When trade tensions with the United States first started back in 2025, something shifted in the way that many Canadians thought about their shopping habits. Suddenly, the maple leaf on a label felt particularly meaningful, and supporting Canadian businesses felt like an act of solidarity.
But it also got us thinking a little more about the story behind what we buy. Where was it made? Who made it? What are the materials? And can we trust the claims a brand makes about any of it?
For years, brands have given shoppers plenty of labels to help answer those questions: “Made in Canada,” “ethically sourced,” “sustainable,” “responsibly made.” The trouble is, those words can mean a lot less – or something quite different – than we might assume.
So if you’re trying to shop according to your values, how do you know what you’re actually getting?
‘Made in Canada’ isn’t always what you think
With more brands sporting the Canadian flag on their products, it’s important to first understand the distinction between claims like ‘Made in Canada’ and ‘Product of Canada’.
“[They] are not the same thing,” says Laura Cristinzo, circularity program manager at Fashion Takes Action, a leading Canadian sustainable fashion nonprofit. And being made in Canada doesn’t automatically make something sustainable either, she adds.
“It could be that all the materials, fibres and trims come from China, and then there’s some cut-and-sew manufacturing done here,” she says.
According to Canada’s Competition Bureau, a product can legally carry a “Made in Canada” claim if 51 per cent of its production costs occurred in the country and its last major manufacturing step happened on Canadian soil.
“Product of Canada” requires 98 per cent – a bar far fewer brands actually clear.
That doesn’t necessarily mean the “Made in Canada” claim is misleading, but it does mean the label doesn’t tell us everything about how a garment was made or where it comes from.
For entrepreneurs like Angela Johnson, filling in those label gaps is what good business is all about. Johnson is the founder and designer behind Edmonton-based clothing brand Ang Hill.
She has built the brand around Canadian-made production from day one. She’s also watched consumers get burned by looser claims from other brands that say they uphold certain values, but aren’t upfront about their material sourcing or labour practices.
Her advice is to check the care label, read the brand’s “about” pages carefully and research thoroughly.
If you can’t easily obtain supply chain information, treat that as a red flag.
“If they’re not transparent, that’s a good indicator something isn’t right,” she stresses.
Another place to look is the price tag.
Johnson works with two Alberta workshops and several home seamstresses – women she knows by name and pays fairly. Her bamboo jersey T-shirts cost $16 in labour alone, before fabric, tags or packaging.
“If you’re only paying $5 for a T-shirt, a company still has to make a profit to exist,” she explains. “So, the cost of that T-shirt (materials and labour) is probably close to $1. Where in the world is that a fair living wage? Nowhere.”
The labels, of course, don’t tell you all of this – and neither does a maple leaf sticker.
That’s why Johnson believes consumers need to look beyond the product itself and pay attention to how a brand talks about the people and processes behind it.
Reading between the ‘sustainability’ labels
Increasingly, brands are using language around sustainability, ethics, and responsibility to tell us why we should feel good about what we’re buying.
Those labels can feel reassuring, but they raise similar questions to a Canadian flag sticker: what does that actually mean, and how do we know if it’s true?
Greenwashing – making something seem more environmentally friendly than it really is – is rampant, and Canadian women are largely navigating it alone.
Fashion Takes Action surveyed 2,000 Canadians and found almost 75 per cent weren’t familiar with the term, and 77 per cent didn’t feel informed enough to identify which brands are actually sustainable.
Her advice is to watch for vague language like “eco,” “sustainable,” or “conscious collection”, and be wary of brands that highlight one sustainable feature while staying silent on everything else.
She says an easy test is to check how specific the claim is and whether you can find the proof. Certifications help, but aren’t a blanket guarantee – different ones measure different things, from organic fibres (GOTS) to labour practices (WRAP).
“Be cautious around brands that create icons or words that make it seem there’s a certification attached when there isn’t,” Cristinzo adds.
Where things stand
While consumers have largely been left to navigate these claims on their own, there is some regulatory movement. Canada’s Competition Act was amended in June 2024, requiring businesses to test or substantiate their environmental claims.
A year later, the Competition Bureau followed up with environmental claims guidelines, designed to help businesses ensure compliance.
For now, though, shoppers are still doing much of the digging themselves. And Johnson says she’s seeing more of them willing to do it.
“More customers are reaching out because they’re interested in slow fashion,” she says, pointing to a rise in consumers searching for quality, ethically made items over lower quality, mass-produced “fast fashion” finds.
Of course, that doesn’t mean you need to become an expert in manufacturing, certifications or supply chains before buying a T-shirt. Most of us aren’t going to do that kind of homework every time we shop.
But when a brand makes a claim about a product, it’s worth taking a minute to look a little closer. A maple leaf can tell you something about where a garment was made, and “sustainable” can tell you something about how a brand wants you to see it; but neither necessarily tells you the whole story.
And with the trade tensions that sparked this shift in our buying habits heating back up, we may be thinking about these questions for a little while longer.
Emma Caplan-Fisher
