Fashion. For a future.

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  • COP30 didn’t deliver on a fossil fuel phase out – Fashion still can 

    COP30 didn’t deliver on a fossil fuel phase out – Fashion still can 

    COP30 was punctuated by a heavy presence from fossil fuel lobbyists, protests led by Indigenous groups and the breakout of a fire, with heavy symbolism of what is to come, if countries and corporates continue to drag their heels on climate action. 

    Although no deal on a plan to phase out fossil fuel made it to the final draft, several themes emerged from Belem that were particularly pertinent for the fashion industry, including the just energy transition, stewarding oceans and biodiversity, as well as accelerating finance and capacity building for decarbonisation and climate adaptation.  

    With industry emissions increasing steadily, what can fashion’s stakeholders take away from COP30?  

    Removing barriers to the energy transition  

    Prior to the convention, the UNFCCC Fashion Industry Charter for Climate Action released an open letter, setting out clear priorities for a fossil fuel phase-out. It encouraged governments in key sourcing regions to remove legal and fiscal barriers hindering renewable energy procurement and electrification.  

    However, fashion campaigners Action Speak Louder, Fashion Revolution and Stand.earth wanted the Charter to go further, particularly in spurring targeted policy advocacy in manufacturing hubs and brand investment in decarbonisation and adaptation.  

    Ruth MacGilp, fashion campaign manager for Action Speaks Louder, emphasised the responsibility of the Charter. “It has a significant role to play in convening brands on adaptation because it is essential, but expensive.” 

     Indeed, the costs are high, given that by 2035, developing countries will need somewhere between $310 billion and $365 billion annually for targeted adaptation projects.  

    Scaling financing for decarbonisation 

    COP30 saw the launch of the Global Climate Finance Accountability Framework to enhance transparency and credibility for climate finance. This has the potential to set parameters for good governance for fashion’s financing too.  

    Currently, the industry is falling short on financing decarbonisation projects. Fashion Revolution’s ‘What Fuels Fashion’ report identified that a mere 6% of 200 companies disclosed how much upfront investment support had been provided to suppliers for decarbonisation.  

    Organisations such as the Apparel Impact Institute (Aii) are working to bridge the financing gap. Aii’s climate portfolio director, Pauline Op de Beeck, observed that “At COP30, we saw much wider traction around electrification within the energy transition, along with increased availability of renewable electricity.”  

    Recently, the Aii has launched the Deployment Gap Grant, co-created with Indian suppliers, focused on tackling barriers to implementation and is consulting with stakeholders on the Energy and Carbon Benchmark, intended to strengthen the business case for supplier decarbonisation and align sourcing with an accessible KPI.  

    Op de Beek made it clear that financing the transition is also about supporting optimisation and changing the way factories are heated, be that related to low-temperature dyeing or new processing machinery. “Suppliers are being asked to do a lot. We need to ensure the technical support is there and that brands co-finance it.”  

    Amplifying policy advocacy  

    Reaching fashion’s climate goals depends on system-wide infrastructure that can only be enhanced by policy changes. MacGilp explained: “Policy advocacy, particularly for those with a large export value in a given market, can demonstrate to governments that they want to continue doing business but require the availability of more renewable energy in the grid, better procurement options and better incentives for suppliers.” she commented.  

    MacGilp referenced the successful engagement of brands, including H&M Group, with the Vietnamese government to advance Power Purchase Agreements in the country for it to become a manufacturing hub for heat pump technologies. 

    “COP30 provided an opportunity for momentum for our company.” said Henrik Sundberg, climate impact lead for H&M Group. The Swedish retailer co-hosted an event with WWF Vietnam and IKEA on the role of public–private sector collaboration to implement renewable electrification in Vietnam. 

    Sundberg caveated that “None of this can be achieved by one brand alone. All of these actions will only be successful with the support of national political ambitions and legal frameworks, carried out in close dialogue with policymakers.”  

      

    Putting fashion workers at the centre  

    Incorporating worker voices, often in the most climate-vulnerable countries, became another focal point at COP30. The launch of the Belém Action Mechanism set out a plan for a just transition that does not leave workers or communities behind.  

    “Imposing a top-down energy transition without consulting the people who work in this sector is unjust” said MacGilp adding: They know what works best in their country context. This means co-creating strategies and incorporating feedback on infrastructure, technicalities and working environments.”  

    Methane – Fashion’s emissions blind spot?  

    Methane was high on the agenda as UNEP and the Climate and Clean Air Coalition released a global assessment reviewing nations’ efforts under the Global Methane Pledge to reduce methane by 30% from 2020 levels by 2030. Bloomberg Philanthropies also announced a $100 million investment to accelerate global efforts to cut methane emissions.  

    Methane remains a priority for countries aiming to reach their NDCs, given that it is one of the most potent GHGs, with a global warming potential that is 86 times greater per mass unit than carbon dioxide on a 20-year timescale.  

    At COP30, much of the focus on methane was related to waste, agriculture and food systems, but fashion’s supply chain is yet to be put to scrutiny as a contributor to the world’s rising methane emissions. Few brands publicly disclose a methane-emissions footprint accrued from animal-derived fibres as well as coal, gas or textile waste. According to Collective Fashion Justice, unabated action across the industry could result in an estimated 8.13 million tonnes of methane emitted annually.  

    I asked Emma Håkansson, founding director of Collective Fashion Justice, why this has been so overlooked. She puts it down to a lack of understanding related to how different GHGs function.  

     Håkansson set out what she would like to see from brands to align actions with the Global Methane Pledge. “It is critical that brands start to measure and publish data on their methane emissions in isolation, not just as part of their overall CO2e emissions calculations. 

    “We want to see brands developing and enacting serious methane mitigation strategies based on the methane hotspots in fashion.”  

    A nature-positive pathway  

    Taking place at the mouth of the Amazon rainforest, the nexus of the biodiversity crisis with the climate crisis was another pressing issue. Yet, with the binding roadmap to end deforestation dropped, alongside further delays to the EU Deforestation Regulation, brands must take action into their own hands as links to deforestation in supply chains for leather, cotton and viscose fall increasingly under scrutiny from investigators.  

    Initial progress on disclosure is taking shape. Luxury players Kering and LVMH report to the Taskforce on Nature-related Financial Disclosures (TNFD), identifying dependencies and impacts on nature as well as nature-related risks. Brands are also seeking certified regenerative sourcing approaches for cotton, wool and leather in a bid to bolster biodiversity strategies and minimise the nature-related impacts of raw material production. But despite these efforts, the World Benchmarking Alliance assessed that the industry’s action towards nature-positive transitions, soil health and water quality are still lagging.  

    The roadmap to 2030 

    Progress now depends on action outside of the COP arena. That means closing the financing gap stalling decarbonisation and ensuring money flows to climate-vulnerable manufacturing hubs bearing much of the industry’s risk.  

    Enshrining workers’ rights throughout the transition will be paramount between now and 2030.  

    “Fashion is past its data collection phase.” MacGilp asserted. “We don’t have a perfect roadmap, but suppliers are ready to decarbonise. By 2030, we want the industry to have a real proof of concept for fully renewable, electrified production across multiple geographies. I’m hopeful that brands that are motivated to reach their targets will meet them.” she concluded.   

    Amy Nguyen is a strategist, researcher and writer focusing on sustainability, climate and nature. She works as a consultant for a variety of organisations, ranging from environmental think tanks, NGOs and research advisory firms, as well as early-stage companies in the energy, tech and fashion space.  

    Her writing and research have been featured in the Times and Sunday Times, Bloomberg, Vogue, the Guardian and global news outlets.  

  • Don’t Feed the Black Friday Beast

    On Friday November 29 last year, consumers in the United States spent $11.3 million USD per minute between the hours of 10am and 2pm. With a 5% year-on-year increase, global sales reached $74.4 billion USD. As a category, versus daily average, apparel sales saw a 374% increase. 

    In every sense of the word, the Black Friday binge is unsustainable. But it didn’t happen overnight.

    So, how did we get here? Despite the phrase first being used to describe the US gold market crash of 1869, now more than a century ago, it was most recently hijacked by corporations – companies who, off the back of the United States’ holiday weekend, claimed it as the day they ‘went into the black’ and made a profit.

    Back in 2020, etailer ASOS sold a black dress every single second of Black Friday trading. Five years ago, those numbers seemed astronomical. They still should. But, half a decade down the line, festivities for the Christmas of consumerism have only escalated further. 

    We now have not only Black Friday, but what’s come – somewhat unimaginatively – to be called Black Week: an extension of the sales that span the week before and end, more or less, with Cyber Monday. For consumers, whose wallets are thinner than ever in a dire economic landscape, this feels like a boon: a reward. 

    But Black Friday isn’t an act of generosity for loyalty to your favourite brand over the past year.

    “Black Friday is just one way for brands to artificially stimulate demand for excess inventory that, in many cases, already exists,” says Elizabeth Pulos, Program Director, M.S. in Business for Social Impact & Sustainability at IE New York College and former Director of Global Sustainability at Nike-owned footwear brand Converse.

    Pulos continues: “Most retailers overproduce by 10-40% as a matter of course, and with tariffs hitting earlier this year, they stockpiled even more inventory than usual to avoid the additional costs. Demand planning is notoriously difficult, so most companies simply use previous years’ sales to project forward, adding that additional 10-40% in as an inventory buffer.”

    Black Friday, then, is built into the system: to move the kind of units that are sold, more products are manufactured than otherwise would be. And herein lies the problem: especially where apparel, footwear and accessories are concerned, extra volume doesn’t often add up to high-quality merchandise.

    The frantic, first-come-first-served nature of Black Friday, too – where the illusion of scarcity drives sales even higher – pushes consumers to make choices they’d otherwise likely spend more time on and ultimately decide against. 

    It’s no wonder that 80% of Black Friday purchases make their way to landfill after only minimal use, generating an extra 1.5 million tonnes of waste in the UK alone. 

    And then, of course, there’s the question of logistics: those products that “fly off the shelves” neither get there by magic nor appear on consumer doorsteps by some act of sorcery. Last year, 1.2 million tonnes CO2 were released from transport during Black Friday week in Europe. In the UK, deliveries from Black Friday sales created 435 London to New York flight’s worth of CO2 emissions. 

    It doesn’t have to be this way, though: supply and demand relies heavily on the latter for justification. Consumers may feel powerless, held to ransom by corporations who know budgets are stretched to the point of breaking and peddle false economy as an answer, but that isn’t entirely true. 

    The success of Black Friday is taken by the fast-consumption industries as an endorsement – licence to not only keep doing what they’re doing, but to keep escalating. But consumers aren’t voting with their wallets in favour of that system, they’re voting by default; for lack of choice, for lack of an alternative. 

    Times are hard. Deals are good. What choice is there? 

    The Black Friday model relies on participation; margins rely on volume – withdraw that, and the whole house of cards comes tumbling down. 

    “Consumers absolutely have the ability to slow over-consumption, and brands will listen,” Pulos agrees. “Prioritising quality over quantity, seeking out natural materials and handcrafted products, buying second hand, developing their own person style. While brands won’t immediately register the shift, they will eventually see the results and shift their production behaviour.”

    It’s understandable that rallying against something like Black Friday, which is really just an extension of a system entirely unfit for purpose, might feel futile. But it isn’t – and we shouldn’t let ourselves be browbeaten into believing things can’t change for the better. 

    Consumers aren’t to blame for the environmental havoc that Black Friday wreaks on our planet any more than they’re to blame for the astronomical emissions pumped out by corporations all year round just because someone accidentally left a light on or the fridge door open.

    The blame lies, as it should, with the companies who pollute and profit from practices they know to be harmful to the Earth. 

    Black Friday, though, presents a rare opportunity: a chance to stand up and stand against spiralling rates of consumption, of profligacy and of waste. A chance to opt out – to shop from local, independent, sustainable and ethical businesses who prioritise better ways of working. A chance to show brands who work with rather than against the planet that what they do matters. 

    Black Friday has become a beast. By that logic, it may seem best to simply give it what it wants and watch it slink away until next year. But feeding the beast only brings it back – earlier, more ravenous, more demanding than ever.

    Do not capitulate. Hold out. Let the monster starve.

    Karl Smith-Eloise is Features Director for Eco Age. He has worked as the EMEA Editorial Lead for HYPEBEAST and Editorial Director of FUTUREVVORLD, as a contributing editor to Highsnobiety, and for the fashion house FENDI. He now focuses exclusively on Earth-forward and ethical avenues in fashion, footwear and the broader culture.

  • The Regeneration of Recycling

    The Regeneration of Recycling

    Recycling doesn’t work. It’s doomed to fail. Fashion’s future is in what’s new, not used.  

    If you make a habit of keeping up with the fashion industry, you might have heard any of these declarations. With the closure of multiple textile-to-textile recycling outfits in the last year, you might even have been tempted to take these statements at face value – a bitter pill to swallow.  

    These attitudes however could soon be eradicated. With the EU ratifying Extended Producer Responsibility (EPR) legislation across the block, a wave of pro-recycling messaging could soon be emanating from sources previously unthinkable. From corners of the fashion industry where “responsibility” has long been a term uttered only in hushed and scornful tones.  

    But these statements aren’t neutral. They’re the party line of an industry which trades on the currency of newness and profits from quantity above all else, deliberately sidelining anything that contradicts those core tenets of mindless textile capitalism.  

    A recent study by the Technical University of Denmark, surveying over 4,000 garments – concluded that recycling is set-up to fail from the earliest point. Mainstream garment design is actively working against circularity in not only the way that products are marketed, but also – crucially – in the way that those products are made.  

    According to the study, while 20% of textiles appear recyclable at first glance – a figure already well below par if we are to make any kind of meaningful progress – that meagre number suddenly falls to an even less impressive 11% with further analysis.  

    Among other things, elements known as “disruptors” were identified as a key issue: much like the glue in footwear – which makes disassembly significantly more difficult and stymies the recycling process – things like zippers linings and trims, which are seen as essential parts of everyday garments, cannot be recycled mechanically.  

    The romantic image of garment recycling is something akin to metamorphosis; one thing simply becomes another through force of will. That’s nice, but it’s not true.  

    In reality, recycling requires that a garment be taken apart, reduced to sections and then to increasingly smaller pieces, broken down eventually to fibres. The simpler the garment, the easier the process.  

    Aptly named, these disruptive elements have to be removed by hand, holding back the advancement of the automated process and limiting widespread adoption.  

    And then, of course, there’s the DNA of the garments themselves – their material makeup. And more often than not, in 2025, that comes with a foundation of fossil-derived polyester.  

    A problem in itself given the carbon footprint of producing plastic-based materials and their widely-known toxic effects on both people and planet, it’s also, somewhat counterintuitively, a major issue that these garments are really 100% pure polyester.  

    In fact, the TUD study counted a staggering 618 fibre blends in only one season of clothing – a number that mechanical recycling systems simply aren’t equipped to deal with.  

    “As a plastic-free shoe designer, this study hits home,” Will Verona, founder of anti-plastic footwear outfit Purified, told Eco Age.  

    A leading voice in end-of-life solutions across the industry, Verona concludes: “Fashion (and footwear) is built for landfill—complex blends, plastic parts, glued construction. Recycling? Nearly impossible. Circularity starts at design. We must ditch synthetics, simplify materials, and design for disassembly.  

    “Sustainability isn’t a trend—it’s a responsibility. The end of a product’s life should never be the end of its story.” 

    The most staggering statistic, though, is that – with all of the above taken into account – when it comes to high quality fibre-to-fibre recycling, the kind needed to produce durable, second-life garments, only 1.8% of the fibres being pumped out into the world are good enough to withstand the treatment process and make their way back into circulation.  

    “What the fashion industry gets wrong about circularity is the constant search for a silver bullet – that one piece of the puzzle that will make everything fall in line,” offers Andres D’Alessandro, founder of circular clothing brand and closed loop systems facilitator Circlo. “But,” he continues, armed with the benefit of having previously worked at one of the world’s biggest and best-known brands, “The sheer magnitude of the problem demands system-level solutions. We produce around 160 billion garments a year, and even if everything went circular tomorrow, we’d still be facing the last 50 years of clothing already in circulation.”

    “Materials, construction, innovation, consumer engagement, and even recycling and disposal all matter – individually and as part of the whole. Circularity only works when we apply changes across the entire value chain. Most important of all, circularity has to be rewarding for both companies and consumers. As long as it means smaller margins for business and “sacrifices” for consumers, the linear model will continue to dominate.”

    Thanks to the EPR legislation now taking effect in the EU, which puts onus on brands to deal with the garments they produce right through to end of life – the days of mindless mass production may finally be numbered.  

    EPR shifts the cost of collecting, sorting and recycling clothing waste onto the brands, placing that burden on the shoulders of those responsible with the ultimate goal of forcing change.  

    Applying not only to EU-based brands, but to any brand that sells into the EU market through e-commerce, EPR – which is part of the wider Waste Framework Directive – also tackles online fast fashion retailers who have for too long considered themselves the Teflon Dons of the industry.  

    That this legislation is even required, though, is a scandal. With 92 million tons of textiles making their way to landfill every single year worldwide and 12.6 million in the EU alone, should it really be necessary to force the hands of those responsibly by legal means?  

    Legislation is a means to an end and EPR is a major leap forward. But real change will only happen when brands and producers accept not just the fines that come with noncompliance but that the whole system is flawed, environmentally disastrous. 

    It’s a big ask for an industry, valued at $1.84 trillion USD, which makes up around 1.63% of the world’s GDP. But a shift from request to requirement may well stop the fashion world from sitting on its hands.  

    The question remains, though, whether producers manufacturing on the scale that really matters will be genuinely affected by fines, no matter how large, or if it will simply hit smaller brands who – despite making far less of an impact – cannot afford to take the punishment.  

  • Mariusz Malon Links Creativity to Sustainability at MFW

    Mariusz Malon Links Creativity to Sustainability at MFW

    Following a 10-year break, Manchester Fashion Week is back. Kicking off on September 9, the new MFW isn’t just a reanimated version of its predecessor, however.  

    Instead, it’s aiming to be something much bigger – a clear voice, cutting through the noise of the fashion industry, pushing vital topics like sustainability and accessibility to the fore and genuinely engaging with the city.  

    Not just vague thematic concepts, engagement with these ideas touches every part of the returning event, from the panel talks on issues like plastic pollution to the choice of presenting designers.  

    In terms of the latter, designer Mariusz Malon – a Polish-born graduate of Manchester Fashion Institute and a proud resident of the city – stands out as a clear example of what the rebooted MFW is working to achieve and the broader precedent that it hopes to set. 

    He tells Eco Age “Having a show in my city is very exciting – especially to be one of the first designers involved. 

    “I’m not a big brand, I don’t work with factories and I don’t mass produce garments. That, in itself, is sustainable, I don’t produce much waste and I rarely throw anything away as I know I’ll need it in the future on a different project. That seems to line up with what MFW is  aiming for.” 

    Where other fashion week events have made cursory nods to sustainability, diversity and accessibility, the team behind Manchester Fashion Week has made them its tentpole priority.  

    For Malon, this ethos is vital. Having become widely known for his work with stars like Doja Cat, it’s his practice and philosophy that are more noteworthy than his collaborators: his use of upcycled materials in particular marks him out as progressively-minded in terms of the planet, as well as in terms of aesthetic creativity.  

    “Sustainability is not the core aspect of my work,” Malon notes, “But, unintentionally I’m quite sustainable when I create – I make do with what I have or find most of the time.”  

    Pushed on how a focus on this ethos compares with other fashion week events, Malon is clear-eyed and keenly aware of the facts without looking to assign blame. “Being truly sustainable has its limits in terms of what you can create and I admire people who fully dive into that world. 

    “I suppose it isn’t much of a focus in other fashion week events as – let’s be honest – a lot goes into putting on shows and that is just one less thing to worry about. Which, of course, is unfortunate.”  

    Beyond the top line topics, it’s also clear that MFW is looking to open up other conversations, too, prioritising clarity of vision and artistic integrity over trends or pandering to the established order.  

    Malon’s work in particular – which hinges on unexpected and exaggerated silhouettes with a palette of bold and powerful colours – is steadfast in its visual uniqueness, its total disregard for the trappings of gender, and for its framing as something closer to wearable art than clothing.

    “Fashion is art and subjective,” Malon offers, asked about how this tallies with his own practice. “I don’t know what to take away from my own collections, so I don’t know what I’d like people to think, that’s the joy of it.  

    “My emotions and thoughts translated into fabric on a runaway is an insight into my world. Whatever people take away from my show is how they see my vision from an outside world.”  

    With less of the rigidity found at other big fashion events, Malon has found in Manchester not just a platform to show his work, but a space to approach it in a way that feels right. Room to breathe and to let his art do the same.  

    “No one knows what this collection will look like – not even me, What comes out of me will not be complete till the day of the show and I’m as excited as everyone to see what I do. 

    “I’m going to try and push my boundaries with silhouettes and textures, but what I hope people take away from it is that it really doesn’t take much to create something from nothing.”  

    This, then, is the overall message of a renewed Manchester Fashion Week: that major infrastructure isn’t the be all and end all and that, in every sense, the status quo is only there to be shaken up as a move towards progress.  

  • Smoke and mirrors around green fashion claims

    Smoke and mirrors around green fashion claims

    The fashion industry has recorded a year-on-year increase in greenhouse gas emissions for the first time since 2019. Given that the fashion industry accounts for 8-10% of global CO₂ emissions, this 7.5% swing in the wrong direction is especially troubling.

    Considering how much more mainstream “sustainability” has become in the last few years, with next-gen materials in use at major corporations and waste-reduction initiatives now a serious consideration, it begs the question how much good has really been done. 

    While green initiatives have seemingly become commonplace, the emissions increase fits with a wider narrative – one of an industry locked in thrall to fossil-derived fibres and a system that relies on overproduction at the expense of workers and the Earth. 

    In 2023, polyester made up 57% of global fibre production – a figure which suggests the problem goes far beyond ultra-fast or even “regular” fast fashion.  

    While the problem is clear, the solution is much less obvious. 

    Eco Age reached out to leaders in the fashion and footwear industries, posing a single question intending to move the conversation forward: 

    “What one thing does the fashion industry need to do in order to curtail and reduce fashion’s rising emissions?”

    ANA KRISTIANSSON, FOUNDER OF PORTIA, DESINDER & APPAREL ENTREPRENEURSHIP

    “Brands need to reduce the collections and products they create. There’s this mentality that more products means more sales – and it’s completely insane. We know that 30% of products made don’t sell, meaning products stay sitting in warehouses, later being incinerated or ending up as waste.

    With all the tools and social media channels available, brands can now build their own communities and keep a much closer eye on what products their consumers actually want and need.”

    LAUREN BARTLEY, CHIEF SUSTAINABILITY OFFICER AT GANNI 

    “We have to start with materials — fibres and fabrics. They account for around 60% of a brand’s carbon footprint. It’s not about chasing the next perfect solution, it’s about making better choices today. That means switching to lower-impact alternatives and scaling what already works. If we’re serious about reducing emissions, materials can’t be an afterthought — they have to be central to the conversation.” 

    SOLENE ROURE, CO-FOUNDER & CREATIVE DIRECTOR AT CIRCLE SPORTSWEAR

    “The fashion industry needs to focus on quality, practical, well fitted, repairable products that real people actually need. It doesn’t have to be boring. In short: less but better.”

    ADELE GINGELL, DIRECTOR OF THE FINISTERRE FOUNDATION

    “Design for circularity. That means using lower-impact materials and building in – and promoting – durability and repairability. This is the direct action we can take while we wait for policies to drive the wider systemic change and for supporting industries to receive the investment needed to build a truly sustainable infrastructure.

    “It’s not about chasing the next perfect solution, it’s about making better choices today.”

    Lauren Bartley, Chief Sustainability Officer at GANNI

    JOSHUA KATCHER, NORTH AMERICAN HUB STRATEGIST AT CANOPY

    “Brands need to dedicate budgets and give procurement teams KPIs to shift to low carbon and circular materials that are available now. It’s a business imperative to future proof supply. The instability of a burning world creates disruptions and uncertainty that can be addressed by brands, collectively, taking action.”

    DAVID SOLK, CO-FOUNDER OF SOLK BIOCIRCULAR FOOTWEAR

    “Biocircularity. Every SOLK sneaker is designed on purpose, built to last, compost-capable, and Made to Fade. Our first model, FADE 101, shows that it can be done, and if it can, maybe it should be. Biocircularity feels like relief, like responsibility, like progress. It feels like knowing your product is beautiful in its first life and generous in its second.”

    SAI VALIMBE, RESEARCHER FOR THE SLOW FASHION MOVEMENT, BUSINESS AND SUSTAINABILITY CO-ORDINATOR AT BPP

    “The one thing that needs to change is modularity. If each product can be used more than once, by disassembly, repurposing it would reduce the emissions by a lot. This extends the life of each product, maximises material use, and drastically reduces the need for virgin production. If a single modular jacket could be taken apart and remade into three or four new styles instead of being discarded, we could cut both emissions and waste while giving consumers more value.”

    AMY TSANG, HEAD OF EUROPE AT MILLS FABRICA

    “The real impact to be made is at the supply chain level. We need to be actively engaging with the suppliers to support them in adopting and implementing scalable innovations, to help decarbonise the fashion industry. This is where systems-level change begins.”

    No single response here represents a single answer. There is no magic bullet for the fashion industry’s regressive and destructive practices. 

    Together, however, they present an idea of what change could look like and, most importantly of all, how that change might be instigated from within and without – a loose roadmap for the fashion industry’s future. A better future. 

    Karl Smith-Eloise is Features Director for Eco Age. He has worked as the EMEA Editorial Lead for HYPEBEAST and Editorial Director of FUTUREVVORLD, as a contributing editor to Highsnobiety, and for the fashion house FENDI. He now focuses exclusively on Earth-forward and ethical avenues in fashion, footwear and the broader culture.

  • Nepal: The Front Line of the Fast Fashion Crisis

    Nepal: The Front Line of the Fast Fashion Crisis

    As the Dhobi Khola river narrows through Nepal’s capital Kathmandu, its steep banks are clogged with brightly coloured shredded clothes. 

    Printed patterns can be seen twisted around denim jeans as pink and yellow tendrils of fabric snag on branches and dangle in the river. Torn purple t-shirts lie next to ripped up boxer shorts and a sneaker with a swoosh logo floats downstream.

    This is evidence that Nepal is on the front line of the fast fashion crisis, a small country flooded with cheap clothes by its two gigantic neighbours.

    Despite their sacred status in Hinduism, rivers once so pure they were safely drinkable from are now used as a dump.

    Nepal is situated between India and China, two economic powerhouses who are giants of modern clothing manufacture. According to the World Bank, China and India export 89 per cent of all clothes and textiles sold in Nepal, accounting for 48 per cent and 41 per cent respectively. 

    Nepal is being swamped with new clothes and footwear, not all of which are legally imported and because they are so cheap are worn a few times before being thrown away.

    “Ready-made garments are coming into Nepal – with the biggest portion coming from China, the second biggest portion is coming from India” says Bhim Kumari Giri, General Secretary of the Garment Association.

    Dr. Posh Raj Pandey, Chair Emeritus of the South Asia Watch on Trade, Economics and Environment explained: “We simply can’t compete with China, where low-cost, mass-produced clothing floods the market,” 

    “The reality is, Nepal remains heavily dependent on imports – not just for readymade clothes, but for most other goods as well.”

    While Nepal produces a meagre 0.027 per cent of global greenhouse gasses it is ranked as the fourth most vulnerable country in the world to the impacts of the climate crisis. Refusing to become a dump for the world’s old clothes, Nepal has banned the import of worn clothing. 

    Yet despite the ban, it has become normal to find piles of clothing, small and large, dotted along riverbanks and left in patches of wasteland around the city. These are discarded new clothes – cheap imports bought in markets and shops. As well as ending up in rivers, fast fashion is also devastating Nepal’s beautiful landscapes and traditional communities.

    “Fashion has been literally dominated in Nepal by things that have been imported. They are cheap, available in bulk, and are easy to find… But what is often missing is an awareness of how the clothes are made and at what cost.” – Alpaja Rajbhandari

    Alpaja Rajbhandari, founder of Nepali slow fashion label Ekadesma laments: “Nepal is just so very small and the market is totally dominated by China and India, From politics to fashion, we are really affected by them.”

    This sandwiching effect is having a devastating impact on Nepal’s ecosystems. From the vast Himalayan mountains to the lowland plains of Tarai, Nepal is a country of 6,000 rivers. The Dhobi Khola is a tributary of the sacred Bagmati River believed to have originated from a great lake that filled the Kathmandu Valley a million years ago. 

    “It really feels sad to see clothes thrown in the river,” Rajbhandari continues. “I was heartbroken when I saw it after the last floods when all the remaining trees and banks of the river were covered in textile waste and plastics. It was horrible.

    “Fashion has been literally dominated in Nepal by things that have been imported. They are cheap, available in bulk, they copy trendy designs, and are easy to find, so people naturally go for it. But what is often missing is an awareness of how the clothes are made and at what cost.”

    Waste Mountains

    Think of mountains in Nepal and Sagarmatha (Mount Everest), probably comes to mind. But there are other mountain stories in Nepal, including that of the Banchare Danda landfill site and the mountains of waste being poured into it each day.

    Twenty seven kilometres from Kathmandu, a cavalcade of open topped garbage trucks winds its way along hill roads – sometimes delayed on their journey by roadblocks manned by angry and worried local residents. 

    The waste being offloaded is part of a staggering 2.3 billion tonnes of municipal solid waste produced worldwide each year.  92 million tonnes of this is global textile waste – to comprehend just how much this is, picture a rubbish truck full of clothes arriving at a landfill site every second.

    Due to a chemically intensive manufacturing process that uses an estimated 15,000 chemicals, textile waste is highly toxic. Once in landfill, clothes made of fossil fuels cause plastic waste, while ‘natural fibre’ clothing produces methane gas during decomposition.

    “Sometimes, people wear such t-shirts for only a week or so before throwing them away. Many feel too lazy to take them to tailors for stitching or repair so it feels easier just to dump them.” – Sanu Maiya Maharjan

    While Nepal’s environmental laws prevent hazardous waste from crossing into Nepal, the law does not specifically mention clothes, meaning that the textiles coming into Nepal are both disposable and dangerous.

    The transformation of pristine farmland into landfill in Nepal has had terrible consequences for the community. The previous site that Banchare Danda replaced had been blamed for crop failures, sick animals, plagues of flies, terrible smells, respiratory conditions and skin diseases. 

    A cycle driven in part by the global fast fashion industry.

    Alarmingly, for both the clothes that are imported, worn – and then buried – Nepal currently has no legislation regulating chemicals in new clothing imports.

    While wary of tariffs, the Government has also indicated that it wants to curb imports through anti-dumping legislation and creating the kind of mandatory chemical limits for textile and clothing imports seen in the EU.

    Sanu Maiya Maharjan works for the Kathmandu Metropolitan City Office, from her office in the centre of Kathmandu she tells Eco Age that she wants to see the sale of cheap clothes discouraged: “They are not durable and are discarded quickly,” she says. “Sometimes, people wear such t-shirts for only a week or so before throwing them away. Many feel too lazy to take them to tailors for stitching or repair so it feels easier just to dump them.”

    The worry, however, is that import restrictions on fast fashion will exacerbate a large black market trade. In 2024, a Nepali Government trade report called the 1,700-kilometre-long open border between Nepal and India ‘a hotspot for organised smuggling activities’. 

    Large border warehouses are used as hubs for the smuggling of bootleg shoes which end up in shops, costing the Nepali government US$45 million in unpaid taxes each year.

    Recycling and Rituals

    Environmental group Cleanup Nepal organises groups to clean rivers in Kathmandu. “We found even good quality clothes had been swept away,” says Rabindra Lamichhane, Executive Director of Cleanup Nepal. “Compared to before, we now see maximum textile waste. Outside of urban areas  household clothes are thrown away and end up in rivers. When floods occur, clothes get buried in sand and we have to pull them out.”

    Speaking from Seattle, Alpaja Rajbhandari says a textile recycling system in Nepal would match traditional Nepali culture. “At home, we recycle and reuse, we don’t throw food away as easily as in Western countries. 

    “My Mum still has some of my childhood clothes to try and pass them on. The Kawadiwala(scrap merchant) comes round on his bicycle and swaps plastic for a few rupees. Sustainability is in our livelihoods in Nepal.”

    While hand-me-downs from relatives or friends is a custom, the wearing of second-hand clothing from strangers is still stigmatised – especially regarding the clothes of the dead which it is believed should be thrown away. “If you go to the Ghats, (the steps down to the river where final cremation and ritual processes are completed), you’ll find that as a ritualistic practice, family members throw the clothes of deceased loved ones directly into rivers,” says Sanu Maiya Maharjan.

    She adds: “Not only their clothes, but other textile items such as bedsheets, blankets, and towels,” Maharjan continues. “Public awareness is needed – these clothes could have been given to the poor and needy, whose numbers are significant in Kathmandu.”

    There are moves amongst younger generations to end the stigma of second hand clothes. On a busy street, the two storey   Affordable Thrift Store has rails of locally donated clothing in the windows. Between 2,500-3000 items are listed each month with sellers receiving 55 per cent of the sale price. If the clothes do not sell, they can be donated to emerging upcycling projects.

    “We’ve observed a shift in public perception,” says Operations Manager, Shaswat Jha. “People are beginning to see that they can earn money by selling used clothes, and they can also buy trendy, fashionable items at affordable prices. But there is still some stigma, so our main customers tend to be young people.”

    Blocked at every turn

    Traditional thrifty solutions are also being replaced. Shredded textile waste is known as Kalo Rooi in Nepal and has traditionally been used to stuff quilts, mattresses, pillows and cushions. However, even this local industry is under threat as China is now exporting shredded rags into Nepal, and at such cheap prices that it undercuts local production.

    For now, Nepal’s shops and markets remain full of cheap clothes that have been imported or smuggled in from Nepal’s neighbours.


    “In fast fashion, there is convenience and easiness, but in that convenience and easiness there’s loss of traditions, cultural connections, human connections – all of which have a really bad impact on the local circular economy,” Alpaja Rajbhandari concludes. “There’s a lot of hidden truth behind that particular word, convenience.”

  • Fashion is rejecting Trumpist opulence.

    Fashion is rejecting Trumpist opulence.

    • Gucci, Margiela and Versace all move away from gaudy styles.
    • ‘No-nonsense craft’, ‘rough-edged tailoring’ and ‘handmade imperfection’ all back in.
    • ‘Dressing like you vacation at Mar-a-Lago doesn’t feel aspirational anymore,’ says trend analyst J’Nae Phillips 

    Late last week it was announced that Donald Trump had accepted a gift from the Emir of Qatar. A small token of the petrostate’s affection, the 47th president received not a classic tie pin or an object of Qatari cultural value, but a brand new private jet reportedly worth $400 million dollars.

    Decked out in such lavish still that it could take years to be retrofitted for official use, the plane is an apt symbol for not just Trump’s own garish style but for the gaudy world his influence has helped to create: an aesthetic exceptionalism that has permeated fashion and design, moving the overton window on what’s considered stylistically acceptable. 

    That world, though, may be about to change. In fashion, the pendulum is swinging once again. And it’s swinging hard. 

    Like any art form, fashion is a product of the times – a response to the conditions we’re living in at any given moment. That response can sometimes be positive, but it can just as often go the other way. Over the last year or so we have seen a slew of articles heralding the return of a gaudier, sleazier, and more opulent way of dressing. 

    This shift has been connected to Trump’s rise. A reflection of the president’s penchant for unabashed excess: gold everything, more is more as a prevailing philosophy. Aesthetically, the result has been a trend for something we might call “greed as garb.” Wealth unashamedly worn on one’s sleeve – sometimes very literally. 

    Luxury Letting Go of Vulgarity 

    But, just as there is backlash to Trumpian politics, there is also a noticeable kick against the sartorial tendencies which ride in tandem. 

    Demna has replaced Sabato De Sarno at the helm of Gucci, continuing the brand’s turn from the flamboyant maximalism of Alessandro Michele to a darker, more worldly outlook. John Galliano and his theatrics have departed Margiela, replaced by Glen Martens’ sardonic sense of humour and deconstructionist approach to design. Even Donatella Versace has abdicated her gilded throne, appointing Dario Vitale – better known for his work at chicer, younger Miu Miu – and seeing the company sold to ever-elegant Prada. 

    This is a vibe shift. Not a sudden one, admittedly, but a slow creep across uncertain ground. 

    “It’s a quiet rebellion against the garish, overblown aesthetics that have dominated the past decade, often tied culturally and visually to excess.” – J’Nae Phillips

    Fendi/Versace, “FENDACE” (2022)

    Goodbye to Quiet Luxury

    Back in the early 2020s, as the ripples of the first Trump presidency began to peter out, we saw the rise of Quiet Luxury. An understated aesthetic based on quality, subtlety, and minimalist proclivities, the trend was exemplified by brands like The Row, Lori Piana, and Jil Sander. 

    By 2023 it was the dominant aesthetic. But, by the end of ‘24, the epoch was over and the Boom Boom era was already declared by bellwether outlets such as SSENSE and The Cut to already be in full swing. A new gilded age, carried in on the hot and unsteady air of political turbulence, which led journalist Dora Boras to conclude, “In an atmosphere of uncertainty, style takes a plunge towards paradox. When markets are uncertain, glamour is definite.”

    Already, though, the climate is cooling. 

    “I’ve been watching the trend pendulum alternate between ever-evolving variations of minimalism and maximalism for decades, but this moment of flux feels particularly confused,” says Steve Salter, editor-at-large for LN-CC and former fashion features editor at style bible i-D, in conversation with Eco Age. 

    This isn’t just about the fashion industry’s internal dynamics, however. It’s part of a larger picture of outside influence. “With creative director job security at its lowest and financial results struggling against a backdrop of socio-political woes, there’s a widespread indecisiveness of vision and growing sense of brand introspection,” Salter, who also founded the grassroots-level fashion zine This Is Ours, continues.

    Amongst this uncertainty, Salter suggests, “One of the most persuasive responses has been a retreat into, and celebration, of no-nonsense craft.”

    Sacai

    Opulence at Saturation Point

    It’s a clear through-line; a shift from palatial detachment to a more tactile, hands-on way of creating and wearing clothing. 

    “There’s a perceptible shift brewing,” journalist, trend analyst and cultural researcher J’Nae Philliips tells Eco Age. “It’s a quiet rebellion against the garish, overblown aesthetics that have dominated the past decade, often tied culturally and visually to excess. What once read as camp, ironic, or anarchic now risks feeling complicit in the very systems it once critiqued. The saturation of opulence — logomania, gold-plated everything, “rich bitch” irony, and designer nihilism — has reached a kind of cultural fatigue point. The visual overstimulation that once felt liberating now comes off as tone-deaf, even grotesque, in an age of escalating crises.”

    This lurch toward lo-fi isn’t confined to the big leagues, however. It can be seen at labels in fashion’s upper echelons and in the scrappier work of true upstarts. 

    “Among smaller, more emergent labels, there’s a visible pivot toward anti-gaudiness — not necessarily minimalism, but something quieter, humbler, more emotionally resonant,” Phillips confirms, “Think rough-edged tailoring, handmade imperfection, or garments that reference workwear and domesticity over nightlife and spectacle. There’s a sort of lo-fi sincerity seeping back into the seams — designs that feel more about living than performing.” 

    Speaking with Eco Age, an industry insider who has worked for brands as revered as Gucci and labels as well-worn as Gap, offered an anonymous opinion that backs up Phillips’ thinking. “Stitched together, lo-fi, is very popular these days – brands such as [the conscious-focused and craft-oriented] Marfa Stance. And, of course, [Japanese cult favourite] Sacai has been doing that for a long time now.” 

    Having now moved out of fashion and into the wellness sector, this source offers a final thought – less about the present trend itself than about the state of the industry as a whole. “I’ve become somewhat cynical,” they say, “I’ve been in it too long and observing it for too long… I think it’s very much devoid of any meaning these days.”

    Marfa Stance

    It’s a bleak assessment, certainly, but it isn’t anywhere near as obtuse as it might seem. In fact, this sombre summary encapsulates exactly where we’re at right now. Post-Boom Boom, fashion houses are responding to a need for something real – a demand for fashion that reflects not just listless uncertainty, but reality. An aesthetic that recoils against shameless greed and wanton disregard, embracing hard truths. 

    “This isn’t nostalgia for normcore or an ascetic redux of ‘90s minimalism, it’s more of an aesthetic revulsion,” Phillips concludes, “Not just against “sleaze” but against the performative irony that enabled it. The pendulum is swinging, not toward purity, but toward authenticity — however fractured, however stitched together. If maximalism was the visual language of denial, maybe this new anti-gaudiness is its antidote: a way of dressing that acknowledges vulnerability, exhaustion, and the need to find meaning in the ruins.”

    The age of Boom Boom Exceptionalism is over. “Dressing like you vacation at Mar-a-Lago doesn’t feel aspirational anymore,” says Phillips, “It feels out of step, even for those who voted for him in the first place.” 

    This is the epoch of Realaesthetik. 

    Karl Smith-Eloise is a freelance writer for Eco Age. He has worked as the EMEA Editorial Lead for HYPEBEAST and Editorial Director of FUTUREVVORLD, as a contributing editor to Highsnobiety, and for the fashion house FENDI. He now focuses exclusively on Earth-forward and ethical avenues in fashion, footwear and the broader culture.