Fast fashion and sustainability are two very different concepts. Fast fashion is appealing, addictive, conformist and very fast. Sustainability, on the other hand, is about deliberation, attention, responsibility.
Until fairly recently, the fashion industry had not been sustainable. We were, and are, drowning in clothes and textiles. According to Oxfam’s research in 2019, the average adult spends £27 a month in fast fashion outlets and currently owns two items that remain unworn. Furthermore, more than two tonnes of clothing are bought each minute in the UK.
It was only during lockdown that I considered what was in my wardrobe. There were so few outfits that gave me confidence, that fit my body, and I was continually wearing them; it made me wonder, why am I so wildly focused on purchasing?
3.5 tonnes of clothing are thrown away every five minutes in the UK. While we have more clothes in our wardrobes, we are not necessarily content. Fast fashion has turned us into passive and submissive consumers who are continually pursuing the illusion that buying more clothes will give us an elusive feeling of contentment. The notion that the next piece we add to our wardrobe will sate us. As Livia Firth once noted, “Fast fashion is like fast food. After the sugar rush, it just leaves a bad taste in your mouth.” We need to reconsider the notion that the hunger for new clothes ought to be instantly gratified. In a world where there is so much to consume, where we are provoked to consume, there can only be the next meal, the next occasion, the next ideal. The feeling that we should consume evermore product means that we do not consider the cost to the environment or the producers. Living as we do, so far removed from the consequences of our actions, it is difficult not to feel a degree of intellectual and emotional detachment. Perhaps this is a form of self-preservation. Ignorance is bliss for us perhaps, but it condemns others to misery, on the periphery of our vision.
We have been conditioned to believe that we will feel happier, better after the next purchase. It becomes a vicious cycle; you consume fast fashion as you would a cheeseburger. For a period, you feel better, and afterwards, you realise that your impulsiveness has simply bought a feeling that is fleeting that you will continue to chase with another piece of clothing. In the lockdown, I realised that I could not sustain it. I am a wheelchair user. As such, I am conscious of what materials and cuts suit my body, which outfits are practical and which are not. These are factors and decisions I cannot make with a simple photograph or video. I was cut-off, rather abruptly, from what I now realise was an unconscious habit.
My interest has always been in secondhand clothing; I loved the idea that one garment could have many lives and could be lived in by many people. People I will never know but who, to my mind, had incredible adventures and histories. Wracks upon wracks of vintage clothes, really worn, I relish the idea that clothing can help you tap into something. I have always believed that fashion is the art we live in.
However, an increasing trend seems to be that people purchase high street clothing or fast fashion wear it once, and then they decide to donate it. I have seen a growing number of clothes in secondhand shops appear with tags as though they had never been worn. This is an excellent way to deal with what has already been bought in haste. However, it perpetuates the cycle as the demand for more is created. The only winners are the people who profit off our superficial submissive interest and the labour of, to our mind, faceless, and thus powerless workers.
My grandmother inspired me this belief to her secondhand was better because it was less wasteful. She liked to tell me that she could not abide waste as she was part of a generation that mended and reused until nothing remained. She taught me to be precise, not to purchase without a good reason or justification.
However, I have forgotten her lessons because I no longer deliberate over clothes or think about how they will fit into my wardrobe, whether I will wear them. Somewhere along the way, my idea of clothing and fashion altered. It was not about the pleasure of playing dress-up or finding clothing that I admired and that I would feel good wearing. It was about finding the next much-needed ideal.
Fashion is addictive, and it can be the art we live in, but somewhere along the way, perhaps across generations, we decided to stop forming connections with our clothes. We decided that we wanted quantity over quality. We did not want to curate a wardrobe we wanted to buy and discard.
Perhaps a move towards sustainable fashion will enable us to recall and recapture the enthusiasm we once felt towards fashion. We could return to the clothing items in our wardrobe that elicited a personal attachment or evoked our unique style before it was drowned out by possibilities – imagine if we could evoke those feelings afresh with every garment in our wardrobe. Suppose we could learn once more to be discerning.
THANK YOU MELISSA FOR SHARING YOUR STORY WITH US AT MFM.
To read more of Melissa’s work click here “Discussing Channel 4’s recent hit TV show ‘It’s a Sin’, Melissa reflects on what the programme tells us about disability representation on our TV screens and in society at large.”