In the days after Donald Trump won the presidency, several small American fashion designers placed anxious calls to overseas manufacturing partners. Spurred by fears that the president-elect will make good on promises to raise tariffs, thereby upending their operations, they scrambled to find alternatives.

The tariffs “would be devastating,” according to Chris Gentile, owner of the Brooklyn-based Pilgrim Surf + Supply, which produces items like padded work coats and fleece zip-ups in China. “I don’t know how we could function.”

Throughout his campaign, Trump threatened to levy a 10% to 20% tax on most foreign products and, most significantly, at least a 60% tariff on goods from China. The thinking is that sharp taxes would compel companies to begin producing in America again. In conversations with clothing designers over the past week, that logic was met with extreme skepticism.

Some designers are not convinced that talk of dizzying tariffs will survive past the campaign trail. But for smaller, independent apparel businesses that rely on the comparative affordability and high quality of Chinese clothing manufacturers, the mere threat of increased taxes on foreign goods was enough to plan for the worst.

“We’ve established relationships with these factories,” Gentile said. “They’ve become almost like family.”

A still-scrappy entrepreneur 12 years in, Gentile doesn’t have an army of supply-chain wonks to ferret out new factories. The task of corresponding with his manufacturers falls largely on him. He has spent untold hours working with his Chinese production partners on how to set in the sleeves of his shirts just so or how poofy a down jacket should be.

To suddenly have to foster new partnerships with factories in India or Vietnam would not only be a costly nuisance, but also lead to garments of a lesser quality than Gentile’s customers have come to expect.

“The best cut and sew in the world comes from China,” Gentile said. “China is so advanced in that space that there’s really no place to go and pick up that slack from.”

Designers speculated that the broader public doesn’t realize how far ahead China’s manufacturing capabilities are — not just from the United States, but from much of the rest of the world. This knowledge gap, they said, has caused people to misunderstand how tariffs might affect their household budgets.

“Generally speaking, most people don’t know how things are made,” said Dan Snyder, the founder of Corridor, a New York men’s fashion label that has produced apparel in China.

Speaking last Friday, Snyder was actively plotting how to head off tariffs that might arrive in the new year.

“We have all these beautiful Chinese-made sweaters” in Corridor’s next collection, Snyder said. “We’re going to probably begin countersourcing these things to be made in Nepal,” where the brand has already been successfully manufacturing some of its handsomely hippie-ish statement sweaters.

Since before Trump’s election, designers have been gaming out what impact tariffs would have on items made in China. The top line for shoppers: heftier price tags.

“No matter what the tariff is, that number is going to get passed on to the customer,” said Antonio Ciongoli, creative director of 18 East, a direct-to-consumer men’s fashion brand that specializes in $178 Jacquard cargo pants and $158 handblock-printed cotton shorts, produced in India.

“There is no world or reality where the manufacturer is going to eat that tariff cost, and we certainly can’t afford to eat it,” said Ciongoli, who has avoided wholesaling his brand because it would increase the price of his items.

Last week, the National Retail Federation released a report finding that Trump’s tariff proposals could increase apparel prices by 12.5% and footwear prices by 18.1%.

If the tariffs were to hit Chinese-made goods, the price of everything from cellphone cases to Barbies to cars could skyrocket. Pricier trousers may end up being the least of consumers’ concerns in that case.

Even designers whose tags say “made in America” are vulnerable to tariffs.

“We kind of ripped the Band-Aid off already,” said Chris Olberding, president of Gitman Brothers, a shirtmaker based on the East Coast. Gitman is one of the few shirtmakers left in the United States, but it imports nearly all of its fabric. During the pandemic shutdown, monthslong supply-chain backlogs made Olberding reassess where his textiles were coming from. Today, his main sources for Gitman’s cottons include Japan, Portugal and Italy. A Gitman Vintage oxford retails for as much as $240 — a figure that is arrived at by factoring in variables like labor and textile costs, existing duties as well as profit. There is a concern that shoppers could walk away if the price becomes more expensive.

“We’ve already raised prices,” Olberding said. “Now, we’ve got to raise them again. I can’t keep passing them on to the consumer.”

During this uncertain interim period before Trump assumes the presidency, Olberding was trying to stay calm. “You can’t be reactionary in these situations,” he said. “It’s such a long haul.”

Some designers were less concerned about finding new production partners than about the hiccups of a sudden relocation.

When adjusting to a new manufacturer, designers have to anticipate that things like the fluffiness of a knit or the tautness on the weave of a shirt, won’t be exactly to their — or their customers’ — liking.

“A factory needs to understand and respect the garment,” said Kurt Narmore, the founder of the Los Angeles surf-inflected label Noon Goons, which has made items like leopard-printed V-necks and breezy plaid cardigans in China.

Back in Trump’s first term, Narmore was already working with his factories in China to explore where else his brand might move production in the event of sizable tariffs. “We’re in a strong position,” said Narmore, who mentioned Mexico and Vietnam as possible options. With these contingencies, he wasn’t panicking yet.

The uncertainty, coupled with an already turbulent relationship between the United States and China, made some designers hesitant to speak on the record about their plans. But the one country that everyone in the apparel world seemed to agree would not emerge as a destination for producing flannel shirts and sneakers? The United States.

“U.S. apparel manufacturing is such a dinosaur,” said Olberding, who knows firsthand how endangered outlets like Gitman’s Pennsylvania shirt factory are in America.

Particularly since the North American Free Trade Agreement went into effect in 1994, production of shirts, suits and knits has been all but entirely exported overseas. Colossal brick buildings that once housed shirt factories and fabric mills have been converted into pricey condos.

To designers, the myth that a substantial American apparel manufacturing industry could be kick-started overnight (let alone that there would be enough capable workers to fill those factories) was just that: a myth.

“Those mills are never coming back,” Snyder of Corridor said. So for now, he’s looking toward Nepal.