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CHALLENGE
I
’m overly sensitive. Sometimes
I let my dirty dishes pile up in
the sink. I have an irrational fear
of confrontation. But recently I
discovered what might be my
greatest flaw of all: I’m a hypocrite.
I’m sitting on my bedroom floor
amid a mountain of crumpled clothes.
Under the strict instruction of Marie
Kondo, she who inspired the world
to cut clutter in the name of joy,
I’ve emptied the entire contents
of my wardrobe onto the bed. But
it doesn’t fit, so it’s spilling onto the
ground like oozing lava. There are
blazers, belts and boots, colourful slip
skirts, a slew of silk shirts, more white
linen dresses than I care to count and
a stack of jeans I’m holding on to in
the clichéd hope of fitting into them
once more. And yet I claim to care
about the environment.
Unless you’ve been living under
a, ahem, pile of clothes of late, you’re
probably well versed on the impact
our collective and relentless hunger
for fashion is having on the planet.
The garment industry is the second-
worst polluter in the world, and of the
53 million tonnes of clothing produced
each year, a whopping 87 per cent
ends up in landfill. On the human
front, a damning Oxfam report
recently revealed the systemic
exploitation of international
garment workers who make clothes
for some of Australia’s biggest brands.
So, is it possible for a fashion
addict to consume with a conscience?
While I rarely buy on a whim and avoid
cheap trend pieces likely to fall apart
faster than a Married at First Sight
relationship, I still shop more than
I should. My job as a fashion writer
doesn’t exactly encourage moderation,
and I’ve never loved re-wearing special
outfits – even back before social media
was a twinkle in Zuckerberg’s eye. For
me, fashion is a form of self-expression
and creativity, and my wardrobe is
stuffed with meaning and memories.
But as I sit submerged in leather,
lace and even some crackling polyester,
it’s clear that something’s gotta give.
Although we live in a throwaway
culture where Instagram brands
can whip up a bodycon Kardashian
knock-off overnight, the fashion
industry as a whole is moving towards
a more sustainable and ethical future.
And I feel compelled to do my bit
by embarking on a “fashion fast”.
The premise is
simple: stop buying new
clothes. Women the
world over are pledging
their commitment to the
cause under the hashtag
#nonewyear, and I
intend to join the fray
for one month. Before
you groan, I know – 30
days sans shopping is
hardly a mean feat – but
my deadline doesn’t
allow for a full fashion-
free trip around the sun.
Instead, I see the
shorter challenge as
an opportunity to reset
my habits while going
cold turkey, like the
elimination phase of
a hardcore detox.
Back on my
“KonMari” clean-out,
I set about picking up
each piece of clothing
and asking myself if
it sparks joy. A vivid
green knit from
Amsterdam? It radiates
good vibes. A pair of
sheer black culottes
that pucker and pull
around my hips? Less so.
A denim playsuit I only
purchased because the
shop assistant said she
liked my hair? No joy. I
end up with three large
IKEA bags to go, which
I’d usually drive around in the boot of
my car for eight months before
dumping beside an overflowing charity
bin. This time, I take two bags to Dress
For Success, a Sydney-based not-for-
profit that provides professional
clothing to women in need, and one
- which includes some designer
pieces – to the local consignment store.
Second-hand shopping, I discover,
is totally acceptable in the challenge,
given that these pieces already exist in
the retail cycle. I turn to Ella, marie
claire’s fashion assistant and resident
queen of vintage, for some tips. “I’d say
70 to 80 per cent of my
wardrobe is vintage,” she
tells me. “Originally it was
about the aesthetic, but as
I’ve gotten older it’s also
become about the eco
and ethical impact.”
But what about those
of us who veer towards
clean – even cautious –
colours and lines? Ella
is a white-blonde wisp
of a thing and today she’s
wearing a blue gingham
pinafore and puff-sleeved
white blouse. She looks
like an absolute dream.
If I wore that, I’d look
like I was going to a
Wizard of Oz convention.
“Start slowly with simple,
timeless pieces that you
can work in with other
items,” she advises.
“Also, you can still play
to today’s trends: right
now a lot of designers
are referencing the ’80s,
so I’m on the lookout
for original pieces
from that decade.”
Armed with those
insights, I jump onto
Vestiaire Collective,
an online emporium
specialising in high-end
vintage, and bookmark a
Cult Gaia handbag
($238.85) and sweet
Marni shift dress
($191.08). But the truth is, I’m now
halfway through my fast and am no
longer craving a quick-click purchase.
Once you remove the temptation and
stop opening those pesky weekly
newsletters, the resounding pressure
to consume is gone. It’s freeing, really.
Then comes my first realA QUARTER OF
AUSTRALIAN
WOMEN
HAVE THROWN
AWAY A N I T E MOF CLOTHING
AFTER
WEARING ITJUST ONCE
**
EVERY 10 MINUTES6 TONNES
OF CLOTHING
GOES TO AUSTRALIANLANDFILL
†