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“Growing up in Toronto in the 1960s,” a reader wrote not long ago, “I enjoyed shopping family-run businesses. I would forego the better-known chains and save my money for just one pair of exquisitely handcrafted all-leather Italian shoes. I would cherish them, care for them and enjoy them every time I wore them. And they lasted for years. In fact, I wish I had kept them. I would have still worn them today.”

This was one of a flood of responses to my recent column on the demise of quality. Despite the challenges of the current economic climate, there are clearly many out there who wonder whether our tendency to “save” by gorging on ever more and cheaper goods might actually be part of the problem.

There is also much nostalgia for the days when more attention was paid to the production of quality merchandise rather than to marketing their prestige. If we are indeed what we buy, perhaps this recession has provided us with an opportunity to reflect on what we have wrought. In the minds of some, this shift might be the first step toward a significant consumer “reformation.”

Many readers were firm in their convictions. “In my family,” one wrote, “we all grew up with the old adage that ‘I am not rich enough to buy cheap.'” And many were aware of the link between their own shopping habits and the greater good. We should support our “neighbourhood merchants, farmers and tradespeople,” advised one. “There are many things that are worth the price.”

Some took the opportunity to express their revulsion at the sheer glut of subprime merchandise out there. “I live in a small condo,” another reader wrote. “And not to seem ungrateful, but the amount of dollar-store tat that I get as hostess gifts is appalling! Once a month or so, I take a laundry basket FULL of this stuff to the Goodwill (or the garbage as appropriate).”

Others placed the blame squarely on fashion. “I agree that we buy too much junk,” one woman noted. “That is due to the fashion industry changing everything quite drastically every season; people can't catch up unless they buy cheap. The fear is, if you spend a lot on a really good item, will it still be relevant next season?” The same reader said that her mother invested in a quality wardrobe that she wore year after year, observing that it was easier to do when styles changed less often.

While many readers expressed desire to invest in quality, there is confusion over how to do it. As one working mother wrote, “I am ready to abandon fast fashion for many reasons. However, I am not sure I know where to find high-quality garments, or whether I would know them if I found them.”

Significantly adding to the confusion is the fact that brand name and price tag no longer offer any guarantee.

“Why did the Burberry coat that I fell in love with last spring cost $950 when it consisted of no more than two yards of synthetic fabric and was manufactured in an Eastern European country?” one fashionable reader lamented. “I suspect that the factory workers who made this coat were not paid the wages that their British counterparts would have been paid. So why still the rich price tag? When I took my coat to my neighbourhood cleaner, he commented on the decline in quality of these coats over the years. Funny, though, the prices haven't. I have two handbags by well known designers that were more than $500 each. The straps have broken on both.”

“So the question becomes how can you determine quality?” the reader added. “Brand? Price? Frankly, shopping can become a full-time job. Reading labels for country of origin, fabric content, checking the seams for workmanship. In our grandmothers' time, when you made that special purchase for a high-quality item, it was impeccably made. Nowadays it's a roll of the dice.”

Luxury purveyors, beware: Shoppers are increasingly onto you.

Part of the puzzle, of course, is that we are now paying the price for mass democratization – an enormous social shift that has enabled more people to afford to buy into the game than ever before.

A key example of this dichotomy is the global giant Ikea. The Swedish-based fast home fashion company's founding principle was socially democratic: to bring good design to the people. But then “democratic” became “disposable.” And last year, Lennart Ekmark, Ikea's original design director, told Form magazine that, in view of such developments as climate change, our great cheap shopping spree is over.

“The global economy, which is based on the idea that nothing can be allowed to cost anything, cannot be sustained,” Ekmark said. “Consumption and production have to move closer to each other.” In his view, the only question is how fast a “consumer reformation” should happen.

Some manufacturers are already two steps ahead. Finnish design company Iittala, for instance, asks in an online manifesto titled “Against throwawayism” whether we really need to keep buying so much useless stuff (iittala.com/web/Iittalaweb.nsf/en/iittala_iittala_philosophy).

Meanwhile, a new men's line by designer Joseph Abboud called Black/Brown 1826, which is freshly on racks at the Bay, offers further hope. The line, which is exceptionally well finished for its mid-range price point, is tailored by old-school, small manufacturers based in Montreal.

As Abboud explained in a telephone interview, he insisted on this option, rather than going offshore, “because the only way we can be successful in today's market is to be totally committed to putting the best product possible in the store.”

In his opinion, consumers are re-evaluating everything they buy.

“You know,” he added, after a pause, “it's like what made us great after the Depression – hard work, value and a dedication to quality. Not some slick marketing shell game.”

To that, readers would likely add hear, hear.