When I began my training to become a textile designer, I only had an inkling of the environmental and societal impacts of fast fashion. Through my training, I learned about the multiple types of pollution generated by the garment industry—from fibre-reactive dyes and multiple rinse cycles using kilograms of water per garment to factory pollution and overflowing landfills that affect air quality. It twisted my stomach. Knowing this, I wanted to spurn the use of these clothes, and, if possible, make my own. But by the time I had completed my training, I understood why people use fast fashion garments: Making clothing takes time, skill, and funds. So, how do I acquire clothing while being conscientious about the impact of what I purchase?
First, I became more aware of how I consume clothing. Today, I purchase fewer items of clothing by asking myself about what I specifically need when acquiring new clothes. Do I need more than one shirt? How many times will I wear this garment? What do I need it for? Does it fit my needs exactly? Is it the perfect colour? If I wait for these pants to go on sale, will I want them then? Does it match with at least 80% of my wardrobe? I use a limited colour palette to develop my wardrobe—this way, all my garments can be worn together. By limiting how much clothing I buy, I can invest in quality. By investing in quality, I can have clothing that will last longer.
When I look for quality in a garment, I check for fibre content, cloth construction, and assembly. I know that cotton is good for a button-down summer blouse. Linen is good for a fancy skirt. My socks and sweaters should be knit. My pants and button-downs should be woven. How much elastane or acrylic should I expect in jeans versus socks? Tencel (a regenerated wood pulp fibre) has more drape and shine, but it also has lower abrasion resistance. (Tencel is increasingly being used to replace some or all the cotton in certain garments and the process used to manufacture Tencel lyocell/modal, uses less water than some other fabrics.) Considering the fibre type and content of cloth ensures that my new garment is purpose-oriented. Then, I check the assembly, assessing if the seams are secure. This reassures me that I won’t need to repair the garment after a few uses.
There are times when I cannot find what I am looking for, so I try to make it. My fruitless hunt for pleated wool skirts drove me to research and sew my own. I waited for the right fabric to be on sale and overcame the challenging process of making it, but the amount of time that it took me to learn and create my pleated skirt means that making my own clothes is the last option available to me. If knitting or sewing a particular piece is within my skill set and creates exactly what I want, then I will make it. Otherwise, I thrift or purchase what I need.
Once I purchase a garment, it needs to be maintained. I do this through washing, drying, and repairing my clothes. By default, I set my washing machine to cold wash and cold rinse and use a scentless soap made for cold water. Delicates and items with stringy bits are tucked into a mesh laundry bag (a pillowcase will do in a pinch) to stop them from being twisted and tugged on by other garments. After washing, I hang everything by the hems to dry, keeping clothes out of direct sunlight, or flipping them inside out to minimize UV damage to the dyes. Hanging clothes will stretch the fibres over time, so putting some consideration into how I hang my clothes also extends their lifespan. If the clothes have very little elastic/acrylic fibre (less than 5%), or if I desperately need them dry by the next day, I will dry them on low heat in the dryer.
Any damage to the garment needs to be repaired swiftly. I gently blot stains with water immediately. For oil stains, I also spot clean them with my gentlest soap before bed (Dawn dish soap, Synthrapol, or Eucalan wool wash). If a stain persists, I use soap and then vinegar to remove stains. As a last resort for my white cellulose garments, I will use bleach. If the colour is fading, then I will consider redyeing the garment.
Damage must be repaired promptly. Socks need to be darned, seams reinforced, holes patched. Regardless of what the fibre content is, when I darn my clothes, I always use wool. I look for a fuzzy, “sticky” wool yarn with fibres that will felt together as I wear the garment. Avoid superwash wool at all costs when darning because the chemical process that makes a wool “superwash” coats the scales of the wool in a substance that prevents felting, which is what we need when darning. Most of my socks are a recycled cotton/nylon mix, so the cotton wears out first. If I seek out worn spots and darn them before they turn into holes, then the socks will last for a very long time. I have six-year-old socks! The colour of the darning yarn is unimportant for the bottom of a sock, and I like to use “contrast (colour) darning” when patching casual clothes. Contrast darning (also called “visible mending”) is a good way to promote and start conversations about maintaining clothes.
Old socks, new socks. Look at the patches and the difference in the colour.
I prefer to use my clothes until they are unsuitable for any other purpose. To do this, I must change the garment’s purpose. The good jeans become garden or paint jeans. The summer blouse becomes a sleeveless blouse, an undershirt, or rags. But what about when clothes are unfit for any of those purposes? My poor old worn-out socks, for example, can be shredded and used as stuffing. In this way, I ensure that the cloth from my clothing is used until it disintegrates.
Instead of being fast, I will be slow. I will carefully pick and purchase products with a particular purpose in mind. My clothes will receive the time and attention that they need to last for years before serving me with a new and different purpose.
