In 2022, Kenneth P. Pucker, the former COO of Timberland wrote an article for the Harvard Business Review titled “The Myth of Sustainable Fashion.” In it, he explains how a combination of overproduction, the continued use of polluting polyester, and the drive to profit will always override the industry’s commitments to sustainability.

Pucker argues that the way to actually make change will start with more legislation to demand accountability from companies, including the mandatory sharing of supply chains and paying for disposal of their goods. He also suggests government legislation to tax resources like carbon, water and virgin plastic (including polyester) and fines for bigger companies that do not share supply chains, reduce carbon emissions and ensure living wages for workers. Perhaps most radically, he wants to  “retire sustainability” because “less unsustainable is not sustainable.”

Pucker is not alone in calling out the industry for driving environmental and social harms. But even with these expert opinions, sustainable fashion is a growing category. Gen-Z is now in place as a primary demographic for brands to appeal to, and sustainability is important to them—research shows that 75% of them make this a factor in their purchasing decisions. If that sounds like a positive shift—and it is, in theory—it’s also driving brands to greenwash, using terms that signpost sustainability but in actual fact have little meaning, or are certainly misleading. This, in turn, creates a facade of change that drives “guilt-free” spending without fashion companies actually making the necessary changes to move away from largely extractive and exploitative practices in their supply chains.

Though, for a long time, there was little sanction on this language, there is now some pushback. Earlier this year, the EU banned the use of terms such as “environmentally friendly,” “natural,” “biodegradable,” “climate neutral” or “eco” without evidence, while also introducing a total ban on carbon-offsetting claims. Of course, where these terms fade, others will appear. A WWF guide to greenwashing advises a pretty simple rule of thumb: look for businesses that comply with the three pillars of sustainability—environmental, social, and economic—and have the credentials to back it up. B Corp, Fair Wear, Fair Trade Cotton, and cotton body GOTS are good certifications to look out for, while in Germany the Green Button is a government-backed certification which signals clothing made in an environmentally and socially sound way. 

While we’re waiting for Pucker’s shifts to make an impact, acting with knowledge and principle is perhaps better than doing nothing at all. 

The internet is full of tips on how to buy less clothes as well as articles from well-meaning people who have stopped buying clothes altogether for an extended period of time. Tiffanie Darke, the journalist and influencer, is one dominant voice in the “buy less” space, thanks to her Rule of Five philosophy—which encourages citizens to buy just five new items of clothing a year. 

Darke says this way of thinking focuses the mind, in the same way we think of “five-a-day” for fruit and veg or “two liters” for water. She encourages people to shop their own wardrobe when hankering for something new (as we typically only wear 20% to 30% of what we own), and advises a two-week “cooling off period” between seeing a potential buy and making the purchase. A wardrobe audit—looking at what you actually own, potentially even using an app like Whering to catalog what you have—is also a tactic worth employing.

Andrea Cheong is another leader here. A former fashion influencer, she now advocates for the Mindful Monday method, which is less tangible than Darke’s but aims to help you think more intentionally about your shopping habits. She also analyzes the quality of what is available to buy by looking at the labels, and posts her finds on TikTok. Very little gets past her test—demonstrating how little is worth actually buying. 

In an online world, temptation will always be a swipe away—and any use of social media puts us in the eye of the algorithms designed to keep us on their app and encourage us to buy more. With this in mind, buying less is a radical human action. Lauren Bravo, the author of How to Break Up With Fast Fashion, advises unsubscribing to brand emails and unfollowing them on social media. Instead, she recommends slow fashion activists like Aja Barber, who use their platforms to show the ways in which the system is built on racism, sexism, colonialism, and wealth inequality. 

As Cline argues in her article for Atmos, real change in terms of sustainability in fashion comes from the industry itself: “Companies have a responsibility to society,” she writes. “And when companies endanger us or the environment, it’s their fault, not ours as shoppers.” Within this, however, our spending power can make some difference. 

As citizens, our spending power can make an impact through top line actions—avoiding fast fashion and retailers like Amazon with shady working practices—and by supporting and buying from brands that have pledged and followed through on doing better. The app and website Good On You is a great shortcut. It allows you to search for a brand, and find its rating of environmental and social impact based on the UN Sustainable Development Goal 12: “[to] ensure sustainable production and consumption patterns.” 

One way to direct your money away from the relentless new purchases is to prioritize a marketplace model. That means exclusively buying secondhand on peer-to-peer apps like Vinted and Depop, and selling the things we no longer want or need (buying and selling as an individual avoids commercial retailers, interrupting the connection to the capitalism that harms the people and planet). 

A policy of buying from Indigenous brands, or those set up by designers from marginalized communities pushes against the racist status quo of capitalism, and is a way to redistribute wealth. Aurora James’ 15% Pledge encourages citizens to buy 15% of purchases from Black-owned businesses, with a directory on the website to explore. A brand like Buzigahill, meanwhile, radically shifts established systems, using the secondhand clothes sent to landfill in Uganda to make new pieces. Independent labels that focus on upcycling discarded or deadstock fabrics are also worth investing in; examples include E.L.V. Denim, Hodakova, and Jawara Alleyne. Or, there’s perhaps the most radical use of your spending power—stop spending completely and wear what you already own instead.

If we’re buying less clothing, and wearing the clothes we do have more, they will inevitably be prone to more wear and tear. 

To keep garments in good condition for longer, wash them inside out, at a lower temperature on a delicate wash cycle, and less often (spot cleaning is surprisingly effective). If you can, dry clothes outside rather than with central heating or a dryer, which can age the fabric. These tips will also reduce your environmental impact, so it’s a win-win. 

Mending and repurposing are part of this, too. This can mean getting creative with what you own—cutting too-frayed jeans into shorts, for example—or employing the services of an expert. Brands, from Patagonia to Levi’s, have launched repair services in-store. Recent years have also seen more attention paid to small business tailors, from Pedal, Makayla Wray’s mobile tailor truck in New York, to The Steam Room in London. Alternatively, the idea of visible mending will bring new life to old clothing. This means repairing clothing in a way that intentionally draws attention to what was broken. Designed to add character to your clothing, it will bring new life and charm to familiar pieces—look to names like Lily Fulop and Kate Sekules for inspiration.

Digging into the fate of no-longer-worn clothes is a sobering experience. 

Environmental organization WRAP estimates that consumers are putting almost half of all textile waste into the general rubbish bin, and recommend that consumers give them to a charity shop instead. But, even doing the “right” thing is not a complete solution. Only around 10% to 30% of clothes donated to charity end up being sold on the shop floor—and 70% end up in landfill, mostly in either informal landfills or in waterways, often in countries in the Global South, including Ghana, Kenya, Chile, and Guatemala. 

The fashion industry is complicit in upholding and reinforcing waste colonialism, the idea that those in privileged countries predominantly in the Global North are shipping their unwanted garments abroad primarily to countries in the Global South. As a result, a local economy has developed, as in Ghana, where young girls are paid a pittance to carry bales of clothes from importers to the market stalls, damaging their bodies in the process. These landfills are also often burnt, releasing harmful fumes into the local area, and impacting the water supply. Meanwhile, many of these clothes are produced in countries including India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh, in often dangerous and unjust working conditions, which shows how, in Barber’s words, “fast fashion is harming a non-white person in the Global South, both at the beginning of its cycle and in the end.”

For citizens in the Global North to avoid an “out of sight, out of mind” approach, people can think carefully about where their clothes could go. Clothes swaps with friends, or selling clothes on peer-to-peer apps, is an option. Alternatively, charity Give Your Best takes clothes that can then be “shopped” by women who are victims of domestic violence, seeking asylum or were recently homeless, or Dress For Success help financially insecure women with clothes to help them re-enter the workforce.

“Take-back” programs should be viewed with caution. With recycling bins in big brand stores exposed as greenwashing because serviceable items were not sorted, but instead “downcycled” (turned into furniture stuffing or similar). There have also been reports that show take-back schemes have sent clothes to landfill or brand warehouses for months on end. The lesson is perhaps to buy carefully and commit—even as a treasured item reaches the end of its life we can think of other uses for it, for example by turning it into household items.