Denude, reuse, upcycle

Fighting fast fashion with no fashion, slow fashion, and old fashion

What if we started by slowing down and not consuming so much stuff, just because it’s there and cheap and available. It’s amazing how that process makes sense financially, it makes sense ethically, it makes sense environmentally.”

-Andrew Morgan, filmmaker and director of The True Cost.

I hang around in spaces—both virtual ones and real-world ones—with a lot of nudists and naked people and body positive folks, and if there’s a list of three things that nudists are most eager to tell you when lauding the life-changing magic of spending time clothes-free, one of them is sure to be how great it is for the environment to wear less clothing, buy less clothing, and do less laundry. (The other two would invariably be that it feels great and that, wow, you meet so many nice people!) One might take this to mean that nudists are inherently avid environmentalists or that they generally care a little more about the planet, pollution, and climate change than the average person. Some absolutely do. But nudists are just like any other disparate community or interest group: They’re made up of all sorts of different folks with different passions, political leanings, values, and concerns. Interestingly, though, even nudists I know whom I would not describe as being particularly concerned with Earth stewardship still tout nudism’s purported green-ness all the same.

And I kind of love that these naked folks of all stripes can all at least agree that doing something supposedly good for the planet is a positive way to present themselves to the world, even if they don’t all recycle or compost or use straws that disintegrate in their drinks. Claiming environmental stewardship is not the same as actually participating in environmental stewardship, though, so I thought, hey, we’re coming up on Earth Day, I care about the environment, I’m interested in the impact of clothing manufacturing, wardrobe care, and textile waste on the environment, and I’d like to explore the ways that recent fast fashion trends have exacerbated those problems. More than that, though, I’m interested in the practical remedies that everyday people can incorporate into their lives which, sure, can include spending more time without any clothing at all, but more importantly involves making more thoughtful decisions about all the clothing we do wear.

Hanuš Schwaiger, ca. 1900

Fast fashion

The industrial manufacture of clothing has long generated environmental and health hazards. If you’d like to scratch the surface of this history, I recommend the “Chromophobia” episode of the podcast Articles of Interest, in which the host explores the ways that something as seemingly simple as dye for fabric could—and still does—wreak havoc on our water supply, our bodies, and our pocketbooks. Chasing access to colors attainable only by elite members of society who could afford expensive, difficult-to-source dyes has indeed driven innovation in how those colors can be achieved more affordably, yes, but it has also long driven consumers to, well, consume and contribute en masse to the increasing environmental pollution and occasional health risks associated with the chemical dyes, additives, and synthetic materials that make fashion faster, cheaper, and more accessible. As described in the episode, the expanded access to a wider variety of color, at the time an established symbol of wealth, arguably democratized colorful fashion, by which I mean it was suddenly within reach of all, albeit with some severe personal risks and environmental dangers. That strings-attached democratization of clothing has become a recurring theme in fashion and clothing consumption that can be traced all the way to today’s addiction to fast fashion.

The advent of fast fashion from retailers like H&M and Forever 21 to, more recently, the copyright-infringing Shein and the ethically nebulous Temu, has brought about a great disruption to the fashion industry, but it should not have come as a surprise. Cuts, fits, designs, and trends once reserved for society’s elite have become cheaply mimicked, reproduced, manufactured, and distributed to brick-and-mortar and online retailers at breakneck speeds and irresistibly low prices. Because of these speeds, trends can cycle in and out at similarly rapid rates, encouraging shoppers to keep buying, consuming, jumping onto the next trend. Because fast fashion retailers offer their goods at such low prices, consumers don't think twice about overbuying and underutilizing. Arguably, fast fashion has indeed democratized nearly all fashion, all colors, all cuts, all materials and all trends, and fast fashion defenders are quick to point out how important and impactful it is for low-income consumers to be able to participate in fashion trends and dress themselves in affordable clothing that expresses their personality and interests, especially as every other aspect of life is becoming more and more expensive—an argument that is not new or unique to the current crisis.

Along with fast fashion, however, has come immense environmental impact, drastically reduced quality and lifespan of goods, unsafe and unethical manufacturing and labor practices, skewed consumer expectations, and discord between those who see these things as problems and those who see them as progress. Increased access to a wider selection of affordable fashions is touted as a major improvement compared to reserving the “best” (newest, trendiest, etc.) designs for the wealthiest consumers. The impact of this trend in the marketplace, however, is taking a massive toll on the working conditions and pay of factory workers in already impoverished countries, is poisoning the planet with harmful chemicals, fibers, and micro-plastics, and is filling the world’s landfills with barely- and never-worn clothing. With these trends, the fashion industry has become the second highest polluting industry after oil, accounting for twenty percent of freshwater pollution worldwide and 2.1 billion tons of carbon emissions each year, all while 87% of materials used to produce clothing end up in landfills or incinerated (per theroundup.org). This is all in the name of democratizing fashion, and now that we’ve become accustomed to low-cost fashion, how can we ever go back?

Clothing waste on the floor of an abandoned factory in Cambodia. Photo credit: Francois Le Nguyen

No fashion

What, then, does ethical consumption of fashion look like? With this knowledge and the impetus to make change, how can we move toward a world where the fashion industry wreaks less havoc on our planet? There are some very clear recommendations being made by environmentalists and sustainable fashion experts, but before we dig into those recommendations, let’s start by revisiting the nudists and their claims of living a more sustainable, planet-friendly lifestyle. Certainly simply abstaining from the fashion industry entirely is not feasible, but for the sake of argument, varied perspectives, and novelty, let’s take a look at any practical lessons the non-nudist can extract from their nudist counterparts. The major claim nudists make is that, in general, they don’t own or buy as much clothing as the average consumer but I have no way of empirically substantiating that. Lacking any scientific studies into the subject and for the sake of establishing a level basis, I am inclined to believe that, contrary to the nudists’ claim, they probably own just as many pieces of clothing and footwear as anyone else. Just like the rest of society, nudists have to do all sorts of things in the real world like going to work or school, attending formal events, visiting attractions and museums and shopping centers, and just existing in public.

Even assuming that the average nudist’s wardrobe is roughly the same size as the average non-nudist’s wardrobe, there are behavioral differences in the ways and frequency with which those clothes are worn that would impact how long they might last, how often they might need to be washed, and how often they might need to be replaced. Those factors would realistically have some non-zero impact on an individual’s consumption of new materials as well as their household water and energy usage. Nudists don’t spend all of their time nude, but any time spent not wearing clothing is time added to the lifespan of the clothing they do own, which could add up to a significant increase in clothing longevity and a decrease in the user’s carbon footprint. According to research by UK-based WRAP (Waste and Resources Action Program), increasing the lifespan of all actively used clothing by just nine months would have the overall impact of decreasing our carbon, water, and waste footprints by 20-30%, just by reducing the amount of newly manufactured textiles needed to replace worn-out pieces. Though WRAP’s suggested method to hitting this goal is to improve the initial quality of clothing to last longer, we can easily infer that wearing all of our clothing slightly less frequently would contribute to that goal as well.

Aside from extending the life of our current wardrobe, spending a little more time nude and wearing one’s clothing slightly less frequently would also logically reduce the frequency with which the clothing needs to be washed. Here’s where the nudists’ claim that they do less laundry comes in. It’s probably not a lot less laundry, to be fair, and the nudists are likely washing their towels more frequently than the average person, but even a slight reduction in frequency of machine washing and drying one’s clothing would have its own environmental benefits. According to Polygiene, a technology company specializing in odor and germ resistant textile treatments with the aim of reducing the need to wash as frequently, each of us skipping just one in ten machine washes would save “47 million tons of CO2 and 4.5 billion… cubic meters of freshwater globally.” Even the slightest reduction in laundry contributes to a reduction in pollution and waste. In the context of energy consumption, it’s also worth lassoing temperature regulation into the conversation, notably the environmental impact of air conditioning which makes up 10% of energy consumption worldwide and 4% of the world’s greenhouse gas emissions. I’m not suggesting that nudists don’t ever use air conditioning, or that people in general shouldn’t, only that during the heat of the summer, spending time nude in one’s home can allow the body’s natural cooling system to do its job more effectively, easing the energy consumption required to aggressively cool our indoor spaces, already a skyrocketing concern as the world tries to counter rising temperatures with a solution that exacerbates the problem.

However, just as it is more sustainable to remove a few layers of clothing than it is to run the air conditioning nonstop to cool ourselves in warmer temperatures, it is also more sustainable to put back on a few layers than it is to run the heating nonstop to warm ourselves in cooler temperatures. There’s no escaping the fact that almost all of us still need to own and wear and wash and rewear clothing, for social reasons but also for simple protection and warmth, so let’s move on to the ways that all of us—nudists included—can buy, wear, and maintain that clothing in a more sustainable, planet-friendly way.

“Luncheon on the Grass” by Edouard Manet, 1862

Slow fashion

As much as there is to learn from how nudists approach clothing, a handful of nudists wearing less (or even nothing) alone won’t solve the world’s overconsumption of energy and water or undo the consumer waste created by our addiction to low-quality, high-churn, fast fashion. In all practicality, we still need to buy and wear clothing throughout much of our lives. Our collective consumption of clothing is bound to have an environmental impact at the global level but that impact can be reduced by making smarter choices and by slowing down our consumption with longer lasting alternatives. Yes, wearing clothing slightly less often is a step toward making them last longer, but I assume that most people won’t take that advice seriously, so pressuring manufacturers to produce higher quality clothing and encouraging consumers to opt for higher quality alternatives is a practical approach that anyone can adopt, even if only occasionally.

To slow down our consumption and reduce the environmental impact of each individual piece of clothing bought, choosing more durable clothing made with sustainable materials, using responsible manufacturing processes and ethical labor practices is a habit that anyone can incorporate into their buying decisions. As they struggle to compete with fast fashion retailers that offer their wares at deeply discounted prices, not all clothing retailers are on board with curating a higher quality assortment, given the increased cost of sourcing materials and manufacturing such goods. Some clothiers—especially small-scale, local, and specialty ones—have made it their mission to reduce the impact of their offerings on our environment and resources like Good On You have sprung up to help consumers find the best options in the marketplace and also to see how their favorite retailers stack up, increasing awareness and helping shoppers make more informed decisions. The key to an environmentally friendly purchase, according to these resources, is the use of natural, sustainable fibers like cotton and linen instead of synthetic, largely petroleum-based fibers like polyester, ethical treatment of animals, reduced water and energy waste in production, minimal use of harsh chemicals and additives, and sustainable, ethical factories.

Unfortunately, the most painful cost of higher quality clothing is, well, the upfront cost to the consumer. As we’ve become more and more accustomed to inexpensive, replaceable, trendy fashion, and as we have increasingly enmeshed our own self-expression and individuality with the ability to dress ourselves cheaply, the idea of spending significantly more money to acquire significantly fewer pieces of clothing is a hard pill to swallow. Opting for quality over quantity, however, doesn’t have to be an all-or-nothing approach to make a positive environmental impact. Even just occasionally opting for a higher quality piece of clothing can contribute to less overall consumption and support the factory workers, designers, and clothiers who prioritize quality. Making this a longterm, occasional habit means slowly building a collection of special pieces that may last you years or decades instead of months or seasons, even if you’re filling in the rest of your wardrobe with fast fashion pieces. Options made with higher quality, natural materials will naturally withstand repeat wears and washes for longer and may also encourage you to be more careful with how you treat them. It may even prompt you to consider more sustainable care and cleaning practices, such as ditching dryer sheets and fabric softeners which are harmful to clothing and the planet. Plus, higher quality clothing is more likely to retain its value if you ever do decide to get rid of it, meaning you might end up with some money back in your pocket at the end of its life instead of allowing it to end up in a landfill, which leads us to the old fashion segment of this piece.

Photo credit: SOCIAL.CUT

Old fashion

While some of us are certainly already great at shopping secondhand, many of us don’t even consider it as an option when we have a hole to fill in our wardrobe. According to a report by online secondhand retailer ThredUp, if each shopper opted for one secondhand purchase over a new purchase this year, it would save over 2 billion pounds of CO2 emissions, 23 billion gallons of water, and 4 billion kilowatt-hours of energy. Putting pre-loved clothing pieces back into use not only saves them from the landfills, it also saves a new piece of clothing from needing to be produced to fill consumer demand, which is where that energy and water use are coming from in the first place. Secondhand clothing markets have existed for quite some time and have even flourished over the past couple of decades thanks to a rise in hipster and vintage fashion trends and an interest in more sustainable clothing options. Along with this rise in demand for used clothing, however, have come other issues such as higher prices, vintage store scalpers, and diminished availability of quality options. Exacerbating this problem, as it tends to do, is fast fashion clogging up secondhand stores with cheaply made, out-of-trend styles that often end up in the landfill regardless. It should not be a surprise that the clothing people are on the hunt to find from secondhand stores and charity shops is the higher quality, slow fashion that people are hardly buying firsthand anymore.

Regardless, re-loving, re-purposing, or upcyclingan already existing piece of clothing—any piece of clothing, even a piece of fast fashion—is a more sustainable option than buying new. Just like the earlier advice around slow fashion, however, that should not be understood to mean that the only sustainable option is to buy all of your clothing secondhand, just that it’s an option we should consider when we have a need to fill. Despite those scalpers and the increased demand for vintage and secondhand clothing, it’s also still typically a far more affordable option than buying new. And yet, as the eco-living mantra goes, “the most sustainable option is the one you already own,” whether we’re talking about homes, cars, appliances, or clothing. Purely because manufacturing new goods will always require more energy and produce more waste, making the items we already own last as long as possible is the most Earth-friendly solution.

Most of us are so far removed from the days of sewing one’s own clothing or mending the clothing we own that not only do we not even consider these as options, we have not honed the skills required to effectively create or mend clothing ourselves. As this Earth.org article suggests, fast fashion has undeniably made this worse: As we transitioned away from higher quality, more expensive clothing, it became so much more convenient to toss a shirt with a ripped seam and buy a new one than to mend it or take it to a tailor. And how many of us even know where to find a tailor? Some social media influencers on TikTok and other platforms have taken this as an opportunity to educate their audiences on basic sewing and mending techniques to rescue old clothes and make them last, an inspiring trend with potential to impact consumer habits and encourage everyday people to prolong the life and utility of the clothing they own already or that they find on the secondhand market.

When you do eventually need to discard your old clothing, nowadays there are more eco-friendly solutions than simply sending them to the landfill. Try recycling your old clothing, an option that breaks down and repurposes the materials from unwanted clothing to create something new. Some of your favorite clothing retailers even have take-back programs built into their business model, though it’s wise to be skeptical of where they end up.

Photo credit: Gervyn Louis

Wrapping up

For my nudist reader wondering what a naked person could possibly care of all this fashion talk, hear me out. Yes, what a naked person sees when they look at another person is not the clothes they wear but the person wearing them. But in truly valuing one another as people, it is difficult to gloss over the human inequities upon which overconsumption and fast fashion are delicately perched or to dismiss their very real impact on our planet and the natural environment. And, fashion is human: From its conception and design to its production and distribution, it’s humans behind every step. Fast fashion’s demand that we diminish the value of a piece of clothing to a temporary, disposable expression of individuality also diminishes the role of the human beings who worked to create and distribute it. Nudists may offer the option to wear no clothes at all—which is novel and admittedly somewhat helpful in reducing our footprint—but we can all also value the craftsmanship, creativity, and labor of those who bring clothing and fashion into our lives. Moreover, even the nudist has a wardrobe and can contribute to making their planet a better place beyond churning a little more slowly through that wardrobe.

Most of what I laid out above is just common sense and, frankly, is advice already circulating in public discourse. Aside from letting ourselves be naked more often, I didn’t suggest anything new that sustainability experts aren’t already recommending as remedies to overconsumption, manufacturing pollution, textile waste, and unethical labor practices. Honestly, it’s advice I need to take as well! I can’t claim to be perfect, but given my affiliation with this bizarre and affable community of clothing-shirkers who tout the environmental benefits of their habits, the above advice, the research it’s based on, and the larger context of Earth-friendly clothing decisions felt particularly appropriate, even if seemingly contradictory at a surface level.

This Earth Day—and every day—I hope we can put some thought into these decisions and consider the ways that we can reduce our impact on this place we call home and on our fellow humans. The way we dress ourselves, especially for nudists, is perhaps the easiest place to start. 🪐

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Check out Timothy’s personal blog, Almostwild, for more thoughtful meditations on social nudism and nakedness, inclusivity, social progress, and environmentalism.