I read the object rather than the press release. A press release tells me what a brand has decided to believe about its own product, and that is useful information about the brand and almost no information about the thing in my hands. So I go looking for the places where the two stories stop agreeing. I turn a garment inside out and look at the seam allowance, because a generous seam means a factory that expected the piece to be altered and worn for years, and a seam cut to within a few threads means a factory that expected it to be worn eleven times. I run a hand along a hem and feel for the stiffness that tells me the fabric has been finished rather than woven well. I check whether the lining is cut on the same grain as the shell, because when it is not, the garment will twist on the body by the end of a long day no matter how much it cost.

With furniture and housewares the tells are different but the discipline is identical. I look for solid joinery where a catalogue photograph would never show it, I weigh a pan in my own hand before I believe a word written about its heat retention, and I use a thing for long enough that the novelty wears off and the irritations surface, because the irritations are the review. A product that disappoints me in week three is a product I will tell you to skip, and I would rather lose a commission than spend your money badly on a brand’s behalf.

Price enters the conversation last and never decides it. There are two-hundred-dollar coats I would buy again tomorrow and two-thousand-dollar coats I would not take if they were handed to me, and the difference has nothing to do with the number on the tag and everything to do with whether somebody made a decision or copied one. My job is to tell you what the thing is, not what the brand wishes it were, and when the honest answer is that you already own something better, I will say so and move on to the next piece.