We’ve got a problem.
Y’all know that I love a little bit of fast fashion. It’s perhaps my most guilty guilty pleasure, other than occasionally eating cows. I love buying fun, incredulously affordable items and peppering them in my wardrobe. I love the experience of walking into the circus that is Forever 21 and carrying armfuls of items into those tiny, fluorescent dressing rooms and listening to women of virtually every age bracket asking their friends if they can get away going commando in the bodycon dress they’re trying on. Because let’s face it, we can all relate. And I love that, too.
But when I’m at the checkout, I always think to myself, “who’s really paying for these cheap clothes?” Because Lord knows that I’m not paying much.
The Stats
Recently I heard the startling statistic that the fashion industry is the world’s second largest polluter. It turns out that there is no way to verify this information, and that it likely isn’t true, at least according to one of the loves of my life, Vanessa Friedman, in this New York Times article. But don’t get too excited – the verifiable stats don’t look much better.
According to the same article, within 1 year of being manufactured, almost 60% of clothing is burned or dumped in a landfill. Apparel and footwear production accounts for almost 10% of greenhouse emissions worldwide.
Then there are the supply chain issues, as outlined in this excellent article from Forbes earlier this year. It’s not that Forever 21, or GAP, or ASOS, has a policy that forces kids to work in sweatshops. It’s that they contract out production, which can then be subcontracted, and subsequently contracted out again, and so on – until you really have no clue who the hell is making your push-up bra. This article gives us the mind-bending statistic – that really should not even exist – that 50% of human trafficking victims are sold into forced labor. That often includes garment industry jobs.
And it’s not limited to fast fashion. Sorry, I know I made it sound that way from the beginning – but it’s not just a problem for low-priced goods. Luxury brands like Prada, Chanel, and Dior have recently been outed for poor labor transparency, rock-bottom wages, and labor exploitation.
Slashing and Burning
No, literally. Many brands, such as Nike, H&M, Victoria’s Secret, Chanel, Louis Vuitton, Michael Kors, JC Penny, and until recently, Burberry, destroy their unsold merchandise. That’s right – they straight-up burn or shred it. Like if Iron Mountain met Burning Man.
Why?
This Vox article echoes a lot of what I’ve heard floating around the news. Given that these companies are run by human beings, and we can be the worst, it’s not surprising that it comes down to two reasons: price and reputation.
It turns out that burning or shredding excess garments can be cheaper than recycling or donating them to a foreign country – shipping is expensive, and both of those options involve labor, which is also expensive (so they say, although judging by some of these brand’s labor practices, I’d beg to differ).
And then there’s the issue of reputation, especially with luxury brands. In theory, when you buy luxury, you’re paying for high quality materials, excellent craftsmanship, and the artistry of the best design in the world. No shame in that! But the reality is that most of your dime is going to ad campaigns which serve to generate the story of the brand that you, as a consumer, participate in when you buy their product.
I have very little problem with everything in the last paragraph. Craftsmanship, design, art, storytelling, bla bla blaaaaaaa – all good, if you can responsibly afford it. But here’s where it gets snobby as hell: brands don’t want to be diluted.
Brand Dilution
To quote Margaret Bishop, a professor at Parsons and the Fashion Institute of Technology interviewed by the Huffington Post, “some brands feel that they don’t want their product to be seen, photographed, etc. on a group of people who might not be able to actually afford that brand. So, if they have excess stock, they may choose to destroy it rather than it going into an off-price outlet or being sold at a discount price or being in some other way moved into the [lower-price] marketplace.” Yikes. That’s what they mean by “brand dilution.”
To a point – and I repeat, to a point – I can see what they’re talking about. I know, for example, that Michael Kors can’t be burning all of his excess, because every time I walk into Nordstrom Rack or TJ Maxx, I can buy one of his handbags for half off. That leads me to never want to buy anything of his full price, not ever.
Looking at You, Coco
So if you’re Chanel, and your least expensive handbag starts at $2,500 and you have hugely expensive ad campaigns and a rich (haha), globally-revered brand story that goes back to 1910, you care about brand dilution. You don’t want someone like me, who rents most of her clothes and only buys things on supersale, walking around town with a bag that she bought at the Ross clearance rack with the Chanel logo on it. According to their logic, this punctures the effects of years and many, many, millions of dollars of ad campaigns. So even if the bag itself cost $100 to make, and they sell it at $2500, the reality is that they’ve paid a lot more over the years just in branding.
And Lord knows they wouldn’t want to waste it on someone who relies on Covered California for health insurance and makes her own sourdough to save money (true stories). Let alone shipping loads of unpurchased merch to developing nations and risk fancy people seeing photos of expensive clothing on poor people.
Chanel cares so much about maintaining exclusivity that they don’t cut prices on their fashion items, like handbags. You can say they’re into burning much more than slashing (get it?).
Let me just say that one of the restrictions of the written form is that I can only transmit a fraction of the sarcasm I feel to the page. If sarcasm were butter, consider the last few paragraphs Julia Childs’s sautée pan. Dripping with it, but still working in earnest.
WTF is the Point?
The worst thing you could do would be to throw your hands up and say, “f this, if I can’t do good by buying fast fashion, and I can’t do good by buying upscale fashion, then wtf is the point?”
I mean, if that’s your reaction, let it set in for a moment. That’s real, and I get it.
But then, move on, and make changes where you can.
We have options. There are a lot of brands doing good work out in the world. And there is nothing saying that we must ditch everything fast fashion, or everything that has a wasteful supply chain. Obviously, this is the goal – eventually, a zero-waste and totally ethical industry. But as we work towards it, we simply need to do the best we can with what we have. For me, that means mixing more expensive, sustainable brands with what I can afford. Or using subscription rental services like Rent the Runway (with the help of my mom – thanks, Mom!).
We’ll expand on this – next week I’ll have a post of sustainable, ethical brands at different price points, as well as ideas on how to shop more consciously. It’s not all doom and gloom!
love,
Stig
PS. That cute photo at the top? To my knowledge, none of the clothing I’m wearing in that photo comes from sustainable brands. Chloe, a brand I love, made the dress – and they have an absolutely terrible sustainability rating from the nonprofit website rateabrand.org. Yes, it’s from Rent the Runway, but still – it could be so much better.
