If you searched “Outlast” and got a horror game instead of a fabric supplier, this checklist is for you.

I'm a fabric sourcing coordinator at a B2B textile company. I've handled 40+ rush orders in the last six years—including same-day turnarounds for apparel manufacturers, furniture makers, and one very stressed event planner. When a client has a hard deadline and a vague spec, time gets wasted fast. This is the checklist I run through, and it's saved me more times than I can count.

Who This Checklist Is For

You need performance fabric on a deadline. You're dealing with at least one ambiguous phrase: Outlast the fabric vs. Outlast the game, blue velvet the textile vs. Blue Velvet the film. And somewhere in the supply chain, someone has asked you whether recycled polyester shrinks.

If that sounds familiar, the five steps below cover the decisions that actually determine whether your order lands on time and works in production. Each step ends with a checkpoint you can verify before moving on.

Step 1: Verify the Product Before You Verify the Price

First, a public-service announcement for anyone who landed here by accident: the original Outlast video game came out on September 4, 2013. Outlast 2 followed in 2017, and The Outlast Trials left early access on March 5, 2024. If you're here asking “does Outlast Trials have anti cheat,” you are in the wrong place. This is a textile article. I can't help you with anti-cheat—and asking a fabric supplier about it will earn you a very confused email.

The fabric Outlast is a different thing entirely. It's a temperature-regulation technology: phase-change microcapsules embedded in fibers, licensed by Outlast Technologies to mills producing performance fleece, denim, upholstery, and base layers. The material absorbs, stores, and releases heat to keep the wearer comfortable.

What matters on a deadline: if a supplier claims “Outlast fabric” but can't show the Outlast Technologies certification or a license reference, treat it as a red flag. The word “outlast” alone isn't the product. On a rush order, you don't have time for a counterfeit detour. Ask for the spec sheet and the license before you ask for the quote.

Checkpoint: Does your supplier's spec sheet name the actual licensed technology and the producing mill, or is “outlast” just a keyword in their product title?

Step 2: Answer the Shrinkage Question With Data, Not Opinions

Does recycled polyester shrink? Most common question I get, by far. And the popular answer—“no, polyester doesn't shrink”—is incomplete.

Recycled polyester (rPET) is still polyester, and polyester is heat-sensitive. Fibers get heat-set during manufacturing, but if the finished fabric sees enough heat—hot wash, high-heat dryer, an overzealous iron—it can distort and shrink. In my experience, fleece can shrink 2-3% in a single high-heat dryer cycle. On a 5,000-yard order, that's a lot of lost usable material.

So the real question isn't “does recycled polyester shrink?” The better question: has this specific batch been tested for dimensional stability, and at what temperatures?

Ask your supplier for shrinkage test data. In the U.S., AATCC Test Method 135 is the standard for dimensional changes after home laundering. No data? Get a swatch and run it through a wash-dry cycle yourself. This feels impossibly slow on a rush order. I get it. But I've seen it save a whole production run.

Last fall, a supplier swore their fleece was “stable, no need to test.” We ran one swatch anyway. Three percent shrinkage in a warm wash. So glad we tested before cutting—we almost skipped it to save two days of lead time, and it would have cost us the entire cut.

This is also relevant if you're sourcing Columbia-style fleece. Columbia Men's Fleece styles, for example, are usually polyester fleece—often with recycled content. The care labels you see on them—wash cold, tumble dry low—aren't marketing conservatism. That's how you prevent heat shrinkage in polyester fleece.

Checkpoint: What is the shrinkage percentage from the supplier's test data, and at what wash/dry temperature?

Step 3: Get the Delivery Date in Writing, or Accept That You're Gambling

On a rush order, time is the actual product. This is where I'm unapologetic: a rush fee buys certainty, not speed. Speed without certainty is just hope with an invoice.

In March 2024, a client needed 300 yards of performance fleece for a trade show booth. Normal lead time was 10 business days. They had four. One supplier undercut the other by 20%, with a delivery estimate of “should be Tuesday, probably.” The other charged a 30% rush premium and put a guaranteed date in the contract.

I have mixed feelings about rush fees. Part of me thinks they're a penalty for poor planning. Another part—the part that has watched a production team reshuffle machines and pay expedited freight rates—understands exactly why they exist. Predictable demand is cheap; unpredictable demand is expensive. Someone has to eat that cost, and it's usually the buyer who wants the impossible delivered yesterday.

We paid the premium. Fabric arrived in three days. The trade show booth went up on schedule. The cheaper supplier's truck showed up five days after the event ended. I've seen this pattern enough times that I don't call it a coincidence anymore.

I only started demanding written delivery guarantees after a 2022 contract fell apart. We trusted a supplier's “usually on time” and missed a production window, losing a $12,000 order. “Usually” doesn't cover penalties.

Checkpoint: Is the delivery date written into the order confirmation, and is there a stated consequence for missing it?

Step 4: Translate “Blue Velvet” Into a Color Standard

This one sounds like a joke. It isn't. Not every “blue velvet” request is for the fabric.

A client once asked for “blue velvet” upholstery. After an afternoon of back-and-forth, it turned out they meant the visual tone of David Lynch's Blue Velvet—dark, moody, saturated blue—not a velvet textile at all. We burned a full day of lead time on a failed mind-reading exercise.

Ambiguity is expensive when the clock is running. My rule: any color reference has to be translatable. A Pantone number. A photo of a physical sample. A swatch from a book. If your client references a film, a song, or a vibe, that's the cue to ask for something concrete.

And never order bulk without a lab dip or swatch confirmation, especially for dark shades like that “blue velvet” color. Dye-lot variation is most visible in deep colors, and “close enough” doesn't fly when the client is standing next to you at the deadline.

Checkpoint: Can the color request be converted to a Pantone code or a physical reference without more back-and-forth?

Step 5: Write the Care Instructions That Match Reality

If your end product is a garment—say, a performance fleece jacket comparable to a Columbia Men's Fleece—the care label is your last line of defense against shrink complaints and returns.

For recycled polyester fleece, these are my standard recommendations:

• Machine wash cold, below 86°F / 30°C
• Skip fabric softener—it coats fibers and kills moisture-wicking performance
• Tumble dry low, or hang dry if there's any doubt
• No iron, or low heat with a pressing cloth

The washing and drying temperature is the single biggest factor in whether recycled polyester shrinks. You can't control what consumers do. You can control what the label tells them.

Checkpoint: Does your care label state a maximum wash and dryer temperature?

What Most Buyers Miss

A few recurring mistakes, in no particular order.

1. Treating “recycled” as either a premium badge or a fragile liability. It's neither. Recycled polyester behaves much like virgin polyester. The most practical difference I've seen is dye-lot variation between batches, which can turn a “perfect match” into a cutting-table problem.

2. Asking “what's the lead time?” instead of “what happens if you miss it?” Every supplier can quote a lead time. Not every supplier will stand behind it. On a rush order, question two matters more than question one.

3. Searching the wrong Outlast. I've actually had a buyer ask me whether our fabric comes with anti-cheat software. Nice guy. He was in the wrong industry. The original Outlast game released in 2013; The Outlast Trials full release followed in March 2024. If that's your search, this is not the anti-cheat article you're looking for.

4. Skipping the shrink test because “it's just polyester.” Two percent shrinkage on 5,000 yards is 100 yards of lost material. At a modest wholesale price, that's real money. Run the test.

Should You Pay the Rush Premium?

The honest framework isn't “always pay” or “never pay.” Write down what actually happens if you miss the deadline. A $300 late fee? A lost account? A production line sitting idle at $1,000 per hour?

If the cost of missing the deadline exceeds the rush fee, pay it. If not, don't. The mistake I see buyers make is treating the rush fee as pure waste when it's actually the price of certainty.

One more thing: don't hold me to exact percentages on shrinkage—every mill runs its own test, and results vary. But the direction is consistent. Heat shrinks polyester. Ambiguity eats lead time. And the cheapest quote is rarely the cheapest outcome.