The care-label queen: how Andrea Cheong will stop you buying bad clothes

Andrea Cheong wants to turn your clothes inside out. Or rather, she wants you to do it. The 32-year-old self-styled “fashion educator” from north London is a reformed fashion influencer. She now reviews clothes for her 248,000 TikTok and 152,000 Instagram followers, analysing clothing, accessories and shoes with an unsparing eye for cost, quality, construction and materials. Cheong operates without fear or favour, and is as likely to flame Prada as she is Primark. Her videos are addictively watchable, mostly because Cheong is scathing and hilarious. “Is everyone OK?” she asks in one review of a fraying Mango dress. “If this is what they call premium, I’m genuinely quite concerned.” But these videos are also informative: educating viewers about what to expect of their clothes, and how to spot indicators of poor quality.
If Cheong has one ethos, it is this: we need to start reading the care labels in our clothes the same way we would read the ingredients on a packet of crisps. This is because, as she writes in her 2023 book Why Don’t I Have Anything to Wear?, “the story is in the care label … We can’t keep going for style over substance.”
Cheong doesn’t see herself as a sustainability activist. “They do incredible work,” she says, “and I think this can run alongside it.” Instead, she hopes to encourage people to shop more responsibly and minimise their impact on the planet. “I’m not a purist,” she says, “because I don’t believe shame is an effective tool of change … I can’t judge anybody for where they feel they need to shop.”
Cheong fell into fashion influencing after working in retail and fashion blogging in her 20s. Influencing made her “miserable”. She hated “the culture. The whole idea of taking advantage of creative people.” Influencers were pitted against each other for jobs and often not paid for their labour. “It felt like a little bit of a girls’ school,” she says.
In 2019, Cheong, who had previously been diagnosed with anxiety and depression, suffered a mental health crisis. “I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror and have any positive feelings. It wasn’t because I hated the way I looked. It was: ‘Who are you?’” And while some of her poor mental health was related to personal issues, she believes a significant portion of it was attributable to the superficial world in which she found herself. “It’s all about who you are photographed with, who you are tagging,” she says.
So she stopped doing it and focused on what “feeds my soul, instead of feeding my ego”. She did some consultancy work for brands and interned for British Vogue as a writer. In 2021, an article she wrote for the magazine about the Stop Asian Hate movement was read by a TikTok staffer, who reached out and asked Cheong if she would consider posting videos on the platform. “I thought: ‘I have nothing to lose.’” Her videos swiftly went viral, making her believe: “Maybe I have something here … that’s how the whole TikTok journey started.”
When it comes to garment design and construction, Cheong is self-taught, but her knowledge is impressive. She speaks with factories, brands and designers to understand the expectations and practicalities of crafting items at different price points, with optimal construction and appropriate materials. Having worked in retail for brands including Abercrombie & Fitch, Cheong understands consumer behaviour, psychology and how retailers use emotion to sell people – particularly women – clothes they don’t need. “I would hear older generations come in and say: ‘What is this made of? Is it lined?’ Whereas younger people would tend to pick based on the style or whether they liked it.”
A pet hate of hers, for reasons of durability, is the use of synthetic fabrics in items that do not need them. “Very much a commercial decision,” Cheong says. Clothes, Cheong feels passionately, should be cared for: when you buy an item, you take responsibility for it, and that extends to its upkeep. In her book, Cheong says that fashion influencers are not the best people to advise whether items will last, as they rarely wear things for a long time because they’re given new clothes constantly. “I don’t want people to rely on me, or a celebrity or a stylist or any other influencer,” she says. “I want them to be able to make the decision for themselves.”
Cheong still does commercial partnerships with brands, including Ecover, and she recently launched a podcast with Kering, which owns Gucci, Balenciaga and Bottega Veneta among others. But she is adamant that she would review items from any of these brands without fear or favour. When I threaten to march her to Gucci to turn a blouse inside out, she is more than willing.
For all that Cheong is one of the rare critical voices in an industry well-known for its exploitation and abuse – the underpaid garment workers, the extortionate markups, the PRs calling in favours, the emaciated models – she wants to emphasise that fashion is, and remains, her first love. “People think I love to hate on clothes,” says Cheong, lighting up. “I actually get so emotional and excited when I see beautiful clothes. I think: how incredible, the skill that went into that. It gives me chills.”
And so, what does she think of the quality of a range of pieces on the British high street right now? What is worth buying and what isn’t?
Zara, £32.99
It’s Chanel-coded. You’ve got your gold buttons and the casual-but-boxy fit. From afar it’s nice. But closeup, see how the curve of the knit is warped? It doesn’t sit straight. It’s asymmetrical. The links between the sleeve and the body of the cardigan are wonky. The buttons are sagging, so are likely to fall off. And if you look at the twists in the knit, they’re loose. They will snag easily, which is hard to fix. On an e-commerce website, you wouldn’t notice things like this, but in person you do. It’s 51% polyester, 49% cotton, so the material is not natural. This jumper will be made entirely on a machine – most knitwear from fast fashion brands is. When factories send their clothes to brands, there’s an auditing system for quality control. I can’t believe Zara said yes to this. But you know what, they probably don’t care because they have managed to make it cheaply enough that you don’t care either. Verdict: do not buy
Reiss, £118
I like the print. It’s quite similar to Casablanca, which is a French-Moroccan brand that makes hand-painted silk shirts. The patterns match up between the sleeves and the body of the shirt, which is good. But there’s something wrong with the tension of the thread on the seam connecting the shirt to the sleeve – see the puckering? The buttons are neat and the button holes are nice and tight. But on the inside, the finishing is not ideal for something at this price point. There is a really large overlock [stitch]. For this price I’d like to see a French seam, meaning you would want the seam to be folded flat and then sewn down. And the shirt is 100% polyester. That’s a fat no. If this was on sale for £39.99, that would be a price point I could understand. Verdict: do not buy
Uniqlo, £29.99 on promotion, usually £39.90
I love linen. What you’re looking for with linen is smoothness. One thing I notice with this shirt is the slubs, the little lumps. Slubs are a natural property of linen, but they shouldn’t stick out as much as this. That’s how you know it’s not a premium item. I always do a hand test with linen – it’s not translucent, which is good. It’s a very good price for what it is. I have owned a few men’s Uniqlo shirts. Men’s clothing is often better quality because men buy less and aren’t conditioned to shop as much as women, so brands have more of a focus on retaining their wallet. Whereas with women, brands push emotional marketing and novelty. In terms of how this shirt is constructed, it’s super simple and the collar is not stitched on that well. But if you’re looking for a linen shirt and this is within budget, I think it’s acceptable for the money. It’s 100% natural. In general, I’d say that Uniqlo is more reliable when it comes to value for money for basic items, but you still have to check everything. Verdict: would buy
Cos, £155
This is the sort of dress that retailers make to put in their windows because it’s a statement item, and it makes the rest of their clothes look expensive. The silhouette, colour palette and the beading reminds me of Prada. It’s 100% polyester. Sometimes for occasion wear it is necessary to have synthetic fabrics, for example, Issey Miyake needs synthetic fabrics for the pleats to hold. This embroidery is done by hand in India, and I would have guessed that, because India is known for having high standards of embroidery. And they have beaded the back, which makes it look expensive. The silhouette is extremely simple, but done nicely. It’s fully lined, which is good. But it’s lined with viscose, which can have quite a lot of friction – although, as it’s occasion wear, you won’t wear it all day so it doesn’t compromise the wearability too much. It has deep pockets. Women’s pockets tend to be quite shallow, so the fact that these pockets are quite substantial – I love that. But I wouldn’t recommend this dress, because to me it doesn’t justify why it needs to be made. Why do we need something else made of polyester? It’s been made for the sake of it.Verdict: do not buy
H&M, £29.99
The print on this is matched pretty well. It’s hard to match on the sleeves because they are curved, but it’s good enough. I always advise people to check whether all the hardware works: zips, buttons, pockets – are they functional? This is a real pocket. The buttons are sewn on properly – that’s a reinforced stem, which means the thread is coiled around the button, so it’s less likely to come off. A lot of the time the lining in jackets, particularly in smaller sizes, will be cut badly because the factory doesn’t have time to cut precisely to the grading. So the factory will just try to make a larger lining fit the smaller sizes. The lining on this jacket is baggy, there is an overhang, but it doesn’t look like a trash bag, so it’s OK. But this fabric feels terrible. It’s 69% polyester, 31% viscose, and the lining is polyester. A lot of high-street fast fashion uses polyester lining because it’s cheap. You can get good quality polyester lining, but this is bad quality: it’s shiny and static. Would I recommend this jacket? It’s a tricky one. For someone in their first job it might be appropriate. But if you could stretch to £50 you can find jackets on secondhand sites such as Vestiaire Collective or Vinted for much better quality. You don’t have to go down this route. This item didn’t need to be made. This is something you can easily thrift. Just because something at face value is acceptable because it’s not falling apart, doesn’t mean you should buy it. There are other options. Verdict: do not buy
Primark, £18
The beads are supposed to reference Christopher Esber, a resort-wear designer who uses a lot of semi-precious stones. But these are terrible and glittery. Visually, you can already see a ton of loose thread. One untrimmed thread is not always a big deal, but when you see this many, you need to check the piece really thoroughly. If you look on the inside, the stitching is not even. It’s an immediate no. You can see the colour of the cotton is already starting to fade. There’s a light fuzz all over it and it looks old and worn. If you look at the fabric weave, you can see it’s very loose. It is lined and 100% cotton, so I’ll give them that. The back is shirred [gathered with elastic thread], which is a very cheap and efficient way of making something fit multiple body sizes, so it helps with return rates, plus you’re not putting in zips or buttons, which are expensive. But this shirring is not ideal because it doesn’t sit stiff and straight. It’s very flimsy. The seams are sewn over themselves repeatedly. They’re bulky and full of elastic and not even straight. I have no doubt these seamstresses can sew very well, but they have not been given the time to do so. When you’re producing at this speed, how can you be meticulous? This is pure planned obsolescence. It’s a horror show.Verdict: do not buy