Counting the cost of fast fashion

This article was first published on The Conversation, 17 February 2012.

There’s a polyester mullet skirt gracing a derrière near you. It’s short at the front, long at the back, and it’s also known as the hi-lo skirt. Like fads that preceded it, the mullet skirt has a short fashion life, and although it will remain potentially wearable for years, it’s likely to soon be heading to the charity shop or to landfill.

The mullet skirt may not last more than a couple of months as a fad, but the fast-fashion trend has shown considerably more longevity. With Spanish brand Zara compressing lead times to as little as 13 days, and the UK’s Topshop releasing 300 new styles a week, fashion trends are being captured and sold far quicker than ever before.
In Australia, although Zara and Topshop only arrived in 2011, many local retailers have been following an accelerated fashion cycle since the early 2000s. Valleygirl releases 65 new styles per week, Supre has daily deliveries, and the mid-market Witchery boasts 400 new styles per month.

Fast fashion has enabled a democratic engagement with the luxury of constant novelty, once only the domain of the very wealthy. Now high fashion trends are instantly accessible online, and the physical garments are for sale at prices which have never been lower.

However, the garment’s price tag does not acknowledge the environmental and social cost of overconsumption.

In the UK, some 30 kilograms of textile products, per person, per year go to landfill. What isn’t sent to landfill goes to charity. A single Smith Family sorting centre in New South Wales sorts 10000 tonnes of donated clothing each year. Much of this will be sent to developing countries, a trade that can be disruptive to local textile industries.

Cotton requires a large amount of water to grow – but often ends in landfill. AAP
The two most popular fibres for fashion apparel – cotton and polyester – each have considerable ecological impacts in production. Conventional cotton alone accounts for one quarter of global pesticide use, linked to poisonings and air and groundwater contamination. In addition, cotton requires a global average of 11,000 litres of water per kilogram, to produce.

With a world population of seven billion, and a projected nine billion by 2050, food security and water security will become increasingly pressing policy concerns. The volatility of cotton prices in 2010/11 is possibly a foretaste of this, with cotton prices rising to their highest level in the history of the New York Stock Exchange.

The launch of Spanish retailer Zara in Australia has seen lead times compressed to a mere 13 days. AAP
Australian fast-fashion retailers face additional short-term challenges. In 2011, bricks-and-mortar retail was at its lowest ebb in Australia since 1962, and across the fast fashion market, clothing was reduced up to 70%. Local labels are affected by the rising fibre prices (not only cotton but polyester of cotton quality) and rising Chinese manufacturing costs. The forthcoming carbon price may also lead to rises in the cost of freight and raw materials. In addition, a greater number of consumers are choosing to buy clothing online from cheaper overseas e-tailers.

Australian designers and retailers can adapt to these challenges through examining the garment life cycle to identify points of intervention. For example, more efficient use of resources would see disposable faddish items such as the mullet skirt collected at end-of-life for closed-loop recycling, in which its polyester can become feedstock for new textiles. (See Kate Fletcher and Matchilda Tham’s Lifetimes project, or Patagonia’s Common Threads program.)

Crucially, fast fashion is not merely fast material throughput of garments, but a sophisticated global image and information system which, to some degree, is weightless. As fashion is intangible, it is not necessarily tethered to the purchase of new clothing. An example is The Uniform Project, in which blogger Sheena Matheiken wore the same dress for a year, styled in 365 different ways. With this perspective, a fast-fashion company’s role may evolve into that of a service provider, not simply a retailer. These services may include styling advice, alterations, clothing libraries or collection of the garment at end-of-life.

In Australia, Supre and Sportsgirl have followed the lead of Topshop and American Apparel in offering a small selection of vintage clothing alongside their new stock.

There is no contradiction in fast-fashion retailers selling second-hand clothing, as the speed of trends mean that styles come in and out of fashion so frequently that some version of “vintage” style is always in style. Within the context of fast fashion as ‘post-brand’, second-hand styles simply become additional grist for the mill, as consumers will mix and remix the product (of whatever provenance) in their personal, restless search for novelty and individuality.

Fast-fashion principles also drive the success of online marketplaces such as eBay, in which second-hand clothing can be circulated again and again, revalourised by individual consumers. Similarly, the Salvos charity stores in Australia and Oxfam in the UK, now sell second-hand fashion online, grouped into ‘lookbooks’, complete with fashion shoots.

While the Rococo excess of a new frock a week may be unsustainable, a different fast fashion – one that relies less on overconsumption of new garments and more on the inventive reuse of existing materials – can emerg

Fashioning the Future Awards

I am proud to announce that I am one of the winners in the 2011 Fashioning the Future Awards, a fashion and sustainability design competition founded by the Centre for Sustainable Fashion, London College of Fashion.

Here is my winning entry: ThinkLifecycle, a content management system for fashion companies to integrate lifecycle strategies within their design process.

My friend Lauren kindly collected the award in London on my behalf, as I’m obviously a bit far away to scoot over and collect it in person.

Goin’ Local

Last night I gave a talk at the Stitchery as part of their Goin’ Local theme for July. As I prepared for the talk I was reminded of what drew me to study fashion and textiles ages and ages ago. It all began in 1994 when I was fifteen and began making a patchwork quilt. I used the English technique of covering paper hexagons with fabric and then piecing them together. I used my family’s old clothes – pyjamas which my sister and I had long grown out of, left overs of the fabric used in my mother’s wedding dress, my dad’s tweed coat which he bought as a 21 year old in the distant 1970s (and which he wore almost up until 1994), bits of hated school uniforms, scraps from other people’s forgotten projects.

You can see some of those scraps above – I know it just looks like a rag bag of rubbishy mass-produced poly-cottons – but to me each piece locates a particular memory. So when I was thinking about goin’ local, and how decidedly not-local the bulk of clothing and textile manufacture is in Australia…I thought of my raggedy quilt and how each scrap represents a garment which in turn represents the body that once filled it. And that alone localises and makes specific and precious otherwise banal mass produced clothing.

Learning a second language

This week was a frantic rush to get some work done after I spent the previous week reading bloodthirsty fantasy novels on my Kindle.

The difficulty is juggling the methodology business with the actual subject matter I want to research. Both require a lot of reading and a lot of thinking.

I read a paper called Witnesses to Design, which was about how a research team structured the methodology for their project. The project was to compare design practice across a wide range of disciplines. They used lessons learned in comparative religion study to develop a comparative design methodology.

That sounds simple enough, right? Too simple. My problem is when I try to sum up the complex things I am reading, I feel I inevitably lose the richness of meaning. The way they wrote it has an aura of authority, it sounds right, it sounds important. And it is very involved and nuanced.

Some of the things I read I don’t understand. I may know the words, but that doesn’t help, because the words have secret codings and weights I am not initiated in.

I have to concentrate. I have to read and reread.

Unsurprisingly, escape to the brutal medieval world inside my kindle is still the more exciting option.

The rapture of the true believers – sustainable shoppers

A week or so ago Forum for the Future released these 4 models based on predictions for 2025. They were based on a world grappling with the realities of climate change, a world with a half billion environmental refugees and skyscraper-high costs for water, food and clothes.

See the predictions for the future of fashion here.

I read all the scenarios, impressed with both the thoroughness and creativity brought to the imaginings of these futures. But by nature I am ambivalent and contrary. If the dominant ethos of the time is consumerism, or Christianity, or Marxism I will argue it. And now that the dominant ethos is sustainability, I want to argue that too.

Not because I am a scientist, or a climate sceptic. But because overarching world-views make me nervous. And this sustainability-climate change business is a meta-narrative.

I grew up in a home where the end of the world was imminent, where the Antichrist was expected, but not before we true believers would be raptured, caught up to meet the Lord in the air. What I took from this childhood was a distrust of anyone claiming to have The Capitalised Truth. Why not many truths and many stories and many futures?

Now it is quite possible the rapture could still happen. Perhaps now those who only buy sustainable fashion will be raptured as well.

I do in fact subscribe to the anthropomorphic-climate-change-world-defuturing-we-need-sustainable-design paradigm, but I think it is important that it is labelled as such – another paradigm, another meta-narrative.

Though if I am raptured, I guess it will not matter either way.

Pitter, Patter

With many babies being born to dear friends, I have developed a fail-safe gift idea. These little shoes, made from scraps of fabric and leather off-cuts, are good first walkers or slippers.

I’ve used cordoroy for the outside and a bright print for the lining.

(This post first appeared on Gussy Up Gals blog)