It’s a Thursday afternoon in New York and Pauline Lock has a problem.
At the apparel factory she runs on West 36th Street, she’s storing hundreds of crisp cotton button-down blouses—a seasonal must-have—that are almost finished except for some critical details: The shirts’ buttons are stuck somewhere on their journey from China, and Lock is unsure of when they will arrive.
Lock manages InStyle USA, a 35-year-old company that has made clothes for iconic U.S. Brands, including Calvin Klein, Donna Karan, Halston, and Eileen Fisher. Over the past few decades, she has survived tectonic shifts in the domestic garment-making industry as globalization led fashion retailers to offshore production to cheaper countries. But she’s never faced a crisis like the one she’s in now, as she tries to navigate Trump’s tariffs.
Lock says that she applauds the spirit of President Trump’s recent trade policies intended to bring manufacturing back to the U.S., even if it means Americans will pay more for their clothes. But the “reciprocal” tariffs that President Donald Trump introduced on imports earlier this month are creating headaches that are worse than what InStyle endured after the pandemic lockdowns, the blackout from Hurricane Sandy, or the shock of 9/11.
People think domestic factories must be bustling, she tells Coins2Day. But instead of responding to a rush of orders from clothing labels desperate to find homegrown manufacturers, the latest trade policy changes have forced her to cut her staff in half, and created a “tornado” of repercussions. “In the 35 years that we’ve been in business, we’ve never had to scale down like this,” she says.
“On a personal level, everyone’s terrified.”
A blizzard, a tornado, a rollercoaster
Lock runs precisely the kind of domestic manufacturing business the tariffs are meant to bolster.
The company collaborates with domestic designers to make a prototype and pattern for their work, sources fabrics and finishings from around the world, and crafts final products. It also makes private-label clothes for retailers like Macy’s. Today, only 2% to 3% of the clothes Americans wear are made in the U.S., with much of that made for the military; InStyle is part of the tiny remnants of a once-thriving industry.
For InStyle, the crisis began almost immediately after Trump’s so-called “Liberation Day” on April 2, when the president announced tariffs on imports from dozens of countries and a baseline tariff on all incoming products, claiming his strategy would rebuild American manufacturing and force his counterparts to improve trading terms for U.S. Exports. China was first hit with a 34% tariff. Vietnam, India, and Cambodia were threatened with tariffs of 46%, 26%, and 49%, respectively. Days later, after a spike in Treasury yields and a stock market plunge, Trump put a 90-day pause on tariffs for almost all countries with the exception of China, for which a tit-for-tat trade war has pushed tariff levels up to as high as 145%. (China has imposed fees as high as 125% on U.S. Imports.)
But the three-month pause, subsequent negotiations between nations, and the carve-outs for exceptions like computers and electronics have done little to help smaller American firms already operating on thin margins, heavily exposed to China, and relying on a healthy consumer economy to survive. “A lot of things came to a screeching halt,” Lock says. “The problem is the uncertainty. It’s like walking on ice, not sure if you’re going to fall through.”
Designers don’t know how to plan for future projects, because the costs are so unclear. Retailers have stopped placing orders because they’re not confident that consumers will keep shopping. (In today’s environment, Lock says, people aren’t likely to choose new shirts and pants over food or rent payments. “Suddenly those clothes in the closet,” she says, “they don’t look too shabby.”) Retail shops have also become more prone to play hardball with wholesalers—i.e., her clients—over existing agreements. For example, Lock explains, stores typically ask for a discount when a delivery is late. Now they might say: “‘Well, we’re not sure if this is even going to sell, so since you’re going to be late, we’re going to cancel all orders.’”
The new tariffs have also led to bottlenecks at U.S. Customs offices. She has found that customs staff are overwhelmed, tracking constantly changing rules, and holding the products she needs—raw materials like denim or silk or trimmings and embellishments—for longer, unsure whether the importer has paid enough duties.
For clothing makers, shopping around to source materials in countries with lower tariffs may not pay off: France and Italy aren’t facing the same steep levies as China, but European high-grade fabrics are priced higher before any tariffs are applied.
Meanwhile, it’s difficult, if not impossible, to substitute such supplies with domestically sourced goods because so few are produced in the U.S. It took years for fashion brands to move their entire supply chains and manufacturing plants, destroying the broad base of companies that once comprised a thriving U.S. Apparel industry, Lock says, but the transformation has been complete. InStyle now operates in a niche market and is reliant on overseas suppliers for materials.
To boost U.S. Garment manufacturing, Lock says, “We have to make sure that we have a solid foundation before we cut off the rest of the world.”
Similar crises are playing out at small and medium-sized businesses across the U.S. Unlike multinationals, these businesses don’t have the cash reserves to absorb the costs of new tariffs. And even if they did, constant shifts in tariff policies and all the unknowns around what might happen next have discouraged companies from settling on one strategy or big investment that might carry them through this period. The U.S. Chamber of Commerce estimates that tariffs have already cost small businesses an extra $24 billion over the past month.
Lock says that if circumstances don’t change, InStyle and other apparel-making businesses of its size could go out of business within six months.
A ‘family’ collapsing
Lock can’t choose just one metaphor to describe the past few weeks. She says fallout from tariffs has been like a blizzard, or like riding a rollercoaster. She’s had to cut the number of hourly workers in her factory from 20 to 10. (InStyle employed more than 75 people before the pandemic.) The people who are left have also had their hours reduced, agreeing to share shifts to protect jobs and ride out the storm.
“We have so much invested, we’re like a family here, and we don’t want to see our family collapse,” she said.
She’s exploring other options to bring work to the factory and is considering a temporary pivot to making uniforms. Her competitors are having the same conversations, she says, asking themselves how they can survive.
Lock says she’s trying to stay positive and even gets some good news on Friday afternoon. Delayed for weeks at customs, the buttons she needs to finish the shirts languishing in nearly complete state have arrived, and will soon be sewn on. The order should be wrapped up and on a truck by Monday—and, at least this time, InStyle isn’t taking a hit for the snafu.
“People are being understanding,” says Lock, “and we’re grateful for that.”
