Doing the right thing
The hidden cost of the cheapest option

This year, one question has been quietly (and sometimes loudly) tugging at me in nearly every project: Is this really the cost we want to pay? And no, I don’t just mean the price tag.

Working consciously, with care for the environment, the people behind the products, and the long-term impact of our decisions – that’s always been important to me. I’d love to say Divisart is a fully eco-conscious company. That every item we produce, every event we plan, every material we print or stitch, is ethical, sustainable, and local. But the truth? The truth is more uncomfortable.

Because then comes the email: “Can we find something cheaper?”

And I get it. Really, I do. We’re living in Hungary, in a cultural sector that’s surviving on crumbs. I work with amateur orchestras, choirs, schools—beautiful, passionate people doing amazing things with no real financial backing. I should be thrilled (and I often am) that they even want merchandise or stage wear, that they care about their visual identity at all. But that doesn’t erase the moment when I have to choose between two evils: recommending the poorly sewn, synthetic, mass-produced T-shirt from overseas… or offering a properly crafted, ethically made one that costs three times more and will get rejected in five seconds.

And it’s not just about T-shirts. It’s about shoes, folders, props, gift items, printed programs – everything. Somewhere behind every “budget-friendly” option is someone not being paid, not being protected. And somewhere in the supply chain, a tiny hand may be doing work that no child should be doing.

But how do I say this, gently, without sounding preachy or disconnected? How do I explain that the cheapest solution is rarely the most honest one?

This is my constant struggle. I want to run a company that takes responsibility – for its footprint, its choices, its role in the world. But I also want to be accessible. I want to support these choirs and orchestras, not push them away with unaffordable quotes.

So where’s the line?

I don’t have a solution yet. Nobody does. Some weeks, I compromise. Some weeks, I fight for the better option. Some weeks, I quietly grieve the one I couldn’t convince anyone to choose.

All I know is this: doing something creative shouldn’t mean we ignore the cost behind it. And if we’re creating beauty on stage, shouldn’t it also be with a clear conscience?

I don’t have the perfect answers. But I’ll keep asking the questions. And hopefully, one client at a time, we’ll start making better choices – not just for our projects, but for the planet and the people behind every product we touch.