The first thing I do with a cream top is hold it up to the window, not a mirror, because a mirror flatters and a window tells the truth. Thin patches, see through seams, a fabric that's basically cheesecloth with ambition, all of it shows against daylight in a way it never does under shop lighting.
Cream does its best work from about March through to October, in my experience, because it sits against most skin tones more gently than white and looks pulled together under a blazer without any real effort going into it. I've worn one to a parents' evening, another to a lunch that turned into drinks nobody planned for, and a third under a denim jacket on a perfectly ordinary Tuesday. It goes with navy without reading as a uniform, it sits well against camel and tan once the weather turns, and gold jewellery flatters it far more than silver does. Jeans, tailored trousers, a plain midi skirt, none of it needs to shout because the colour is already doing most of the talking.
Where a cream top usually lets you down is in the fabric, and it tends to happen fast, sometimes within a season and sometimes within a handful of washes. A cheap one goes slightly grey at the cuffs and underarms long before a white top would, because any dulling shows up against that warmer base straight away. A well made one has a bit of weight and body to it, proper stitching along the seams rather than one thin overlocked line that puckers the first time it goes through a tumble dryer, and buttons that feel like they'll see out more than a couple of washes before the thread starts to give. If there's a lining, check it under a bright light before buying, because a thin one goes see through exactly across the chest and no amount of careful washing undoes that once it's happened. A good top comes out of the wash bag looking the same shape it went in, not stretched at the neckline or shrunk half an inch at the hem.
If you're between sizes, go up rather than down, because cream shows every pull and seam line a size too small leaves behind.