Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion: Inspiration for Change 9781350160446, 9781350160439, 9781350160460, 9781350160453

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HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVES ON SUSTAINABLE FASHION

ii

HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVES ON SUSTAINABLE FASHION

INSPIRATION FOR CHANGE Second Edition

Amy Twigger Holroyd, Jennifer Farley Gordon, and Colleen Hill

BLOOMSBURY VISUAL ARTS Bloomsbury Publishing Plc 50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP, UK 1385 Broadway, New York, NY 10018, USA 29 Earlsfort Terrace, Dublin 2, Ireland BLOOMSBURY, BLOOMSBURY VISUAL ARTS and the Diana logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc First published in Great Britain 2023 Copyright © Amy Twigger Holroyd, Jennifer Farley Gordon, Colleen Hill, 2023 Amy Twigger Holroyd, Jennifer Farley Gordon, and Colleen Hill have asserted their right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Authors of this work. For legal purposes the Acknowledgments on p. xiii constitute an extension of this copyright page. Cover design by Adriana Brioso Cover image: Home Ties by G. Coles Phillips, early 1900s. (© Transcendental Graphics/Getty Images) All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. Bloomsbury Publishing Plc does not have any control over, or responsibility for, any third-party websites referred to or in this book. All internet addresses given in this book were correct at the time of going to press. The author and publisher regret any inconvenience caused if addresses have changed or sites have ceased to exist, but can accept no responsibility for any such changes. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Holroyd, Amy Twigger, author. | Farley Gordon, Jennifer, author. | Hill, Colleen, 1982- author. Title: Historical perspectives on sustainable fashion : inspiration for change / Amy Twigger Holroyd, Jennifer Farley Gordon, and Colleen Hill. Description: Second edition. | London ; New York : Bloomsbury Visual Arts, 2023. | Includes bibliographical references and index. | Summary: “Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion in Fashion reminds us that concerns about workers’ rights and chemical pollution in the fashion industry have been with us as far back as the early 19th century. By placing today’s sustainable fashion movement in its historical context, this book encourages contemporary designers to learn from past failures and build on their predecessors’ successes to move the business of fashion forward. As well as new international examples from each stage of the fashion production cycle, this revised edition includes a new opening chapter outlining the different fashion systems and their role in sustainable practice. There’s also a new chapter on how the consumer can play a role in the environmental impact of their clothing, exploring the importance of emotional significance and value, shopping and e-commerce as well as laundering and care”-- Provided by publisher. Identifiers: LCCN 2022014166 (print) | LCCN 2022014167 (ebook) | ISBN 9781350160446 (hb) | ISBN 9781350160439 (pb) | ISBN 9781350160453 (epdf) | ISBN 9781350160477 (epub) Subjects: LCSH: Fashion design. | Fashion--Environmental aspects. | Clothing trade--Environmental aspects. | Sustainable engineering. Classification: LCC TT515 .H65 2023 (print) | LCC TT515 (ebook) | DDC 746.9/2--dc23/eng/20220819 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022014166 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022014167 ISBN: HB: 978-1-3501-6044-6  PB: 978-1-3501-6043-9  ePDF: 978-1-3501-6045-3 ePub: 978-1-3501-6047-7 Typeset by Deanta Global Publishing Services, Chennai, India To find out more about our authors and books visit www​.bloomsbury​.com and sign up for our newsletters.

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion.indb 4

01-09-2022 11:43:22 AM

For our families, with love.

CONTENTS

List of Figures viii Acknowledgments xii Introduction 1 Global Challenges and Sustainability 1 What Is Sustainable Fashion? 3 Looking Back 4 Historical Examples 5 Chapter by Chapter 6 Using This Book 8 1

Materials and Processes How Did We Get Here? Inspiration for Change Thinking Critically Further Reading

11 13 26 34 35

2

Design and Manufacture How Did We Get Here? Inspiration for Change Thinking Critically Further Reading

37 38 46 57 58

3

Reuse and Recycling How Did We Get Here? Inspiration for Change Thinking Critically Further Reading

61 62 71 79 81

4

Labor Practices How Did We Get Here? Inspiration for Change Thinking Critically Further Reading

83 84 94 102 103

Contents

5

Treatment of Animals How Did We Get Here? Inspiration for Change Thinking Critically Further Reading

105 107 116 126 126

6

Fashion Systems How Did We Get Here? Inspiration for Change Thinking Critically Further Reading

129 134 140 153 155

Conclusion 157 Notes 159 Select Bibliography 188 Glossary 191 Index 193

vii

FIGURES

0.1 Planetary boundaries. Designed by Azote for Stockholm Resilience Centre, based on analysis in Persson et al. 2022 and Steffen et al. 2015 0.2 Extinction Rebellion protestor invades Louis Vuitton catwalk show, Paris Fashion Week, 2021. Photo by Christophe Archambault/AFP via Getty Images 0.3 Esprit ecollection products from Fall 1992, featuring naturally processed wool sweater handknitted by Appalachia by Design cooperative, with hand-painted buttons by Watermark Cooperative; post-consumer recycled wool scarf; and ecollection Fall 1992 brochure. Photograph: Lynda Grose 0.4 Fashions Past: Future Garment Making by Matilda Aspinall. Photography: Mark Tamer 1.1 CROP knitwear by Kate Morris. Photograph: Rebecca Lewis 1.2 Pulp-It Paper Fashion prototype. Politowicz, Goldsworthy and Granberg (2019) Fast-Forward Fashion, Mistra Future Fashion https://www​.cir​cula​rdes​ignspeeds​.com/ Photography: Jelly Luise 1.3 Detail of the zero-waste Kala Cotton Shibori Wrap, hand-woven and naturally dyed in indigo, Out of the Blue 2019. @Medium, New Delhi, 2019 1.4 Eli Whitney’s Cotton Gin. American Stock Archive/Archive Photos/Getty Images 1.5 Dress, orange rayon/cotton blend, multicolored floral cotton. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 1.6 Claire McCardell, evening dress, white printed nylon. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 1.7 Wash N’ Wear, man’s suit, grey nylon seersucker. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 1.8 Lucien Lelong, evening cape, dark blue cellophane, navy tulle. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 1.9 Installation shot from Eco-Fashion: Going Green. André Courrèges, dress, black vinyl, black chiffon, pale silk. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 1.10 Installation shot from Eco-Fashion: Going Green. Dress and pelerine, green, yellow, and red roller-printed cotton. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 1.11 Dress, purple and black striped silk taffeta. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 1.12 Sophie, dress and sweater set, black silk twill with discharge floral print, cashmere. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 1.13 Installation shot from Eco-Fashion: Going Green. Organic by John Patrick, shirt and jumper, white Japanese organic cotton mesh, light blue and white organic cotton shirting. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 1.14 Noir (Peter Ingwersen), evening dress, black Illuminati II cotton, silver-studded leather. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 1.15 Installation shot from Eco-Fashion: Going Green. Ciel (Sarah Ratty), dress, grey and silver metallic printed lyocell. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 1.16 FIN (Per Åge Sivertsen), dress, blue organic bamboo satin. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 2.1 Old Fadama Dumpsite, Accra, Ghana. Photograph: The Or Foundation 2.2 Sample swatches for “Blue Sweater” by Lynda Grose, for the series “Designing Garments with the Potential to Evolve Over Time.” Undyed cationic and non-cationic cotton, pre-dyed cotton. Photograph: Lynda Grose 2.3 Puzzleware workshop. Almaborealis / Rose & Julien Photography 2019 2.4 Transferral t-shirt. Digital design and concept by Holly McQuillan (2020)

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5 8 12 12 13 15 17 18 19 21 21 22 24 26 28 29 31 32 38 39 39 40

Figures

2.5 Denis Diderot, “Tapisserie de Basse-Lisse des Gobelins,” from L’Encyclopédie, ou Dictionnaire Raisonné des Sciences, des Arts et des Métiers. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 2.6 Robe à la Française, lavender and pink silk brocade. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 2.7 Stanley, shirtwaist blouse, white cotton. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 2.8 Evening dress, multicolor printed paper and pink ostrich feathers. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 2.9 Adrian suit, brown, grey, blue, and red wool. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 2.10 Christian Dior, evening dress, ivory silk satin with multicolor embroidery and rhinestones. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 2.11 Installation shot from Eco-Fashion: Going Green. Organic by John Patrick, ensemble, handpainted white organic cotton mesh, purple silk. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 2.12 Alabama Chanin (Natalie Chanin), ensemble: Coat and two-piece wrap dress, light blue organic cotton jersey. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 2.13 Alabama Chanin (Natalie Chanin), detail of organic cotton jersey fabric. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 2.14 Slow and Steady Wins the Race (Mary Ping), “Postal” bag, unbleached cotton canvas. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 2.15 Dress with evening bodice, pale green silk. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 2.16 Dress with added pelerine and long sleeves, pale green silk. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 2.17 YEOHLEE Fall 2009 runway presentation, model wearing a ballerina bodysuit and Zero Waste sarong. Photo by Michael Loccisano/Getty Images for IMG 2.18 Tattooed denim concept by Changxian Chu and Yifan Wang. Photograph: Yifan Wang 3.1 Shop owner Constanze Pelzer in her 1920s–50s vintage shop “Glencheck” in the Wilmersdorf area of Berlin. Odd Andersen/AFP via Getty Images 3.2 Ambrosia, Holly, and Kate mending. Image: Kate Sekules @visiblemend 3.3 Helen Kirkum x Casely Hayford, Model no: TX65, ArchiveShoot. Photographed by Rachel Dray 2018 3.4 Reticule, ivory silk with multicolor embroidery. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 3.5 Dress re-fashioned from eighteenth-century fabric, ivory silk brocade. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 3.6 Dress remade from Paisley shawl, multicolor wool, and burgundy velvet. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 3.7 Man’s patchwork dressing gown made from crazy quilt, multicolor patchwork, and black moiré. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 3.8 “Layout No. 3,” instructions for converting a man’s suit to a woman’s suit. From the book Make and Mend for Victory. Collection of the author 3.9 Grinding machine, from Great Industries of Great Britain (London, 1884). Universal History Archive/Getty Images 3.10 Betsey Johnson, maxi dress with Woolmark label, multicolor space-dyed wool knit. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 3.11 Woman’s vest re-fashioned from a man’s eighteenth-century waistcoat, ivory silk with multicolor embroidery. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 3.12 Suit remade from Paisley shawl, multicolor wool. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 3.13 Yesterday’s News (Harriet Winter), dress made from vintage fabric, multicolor printed rayon, orange rayon, black rayon. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 3.14 Installation shot from Eco-Fashion: Going Green. Maison Martin Margiela, sweaters made from socks, army green wool. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 3.15 XULY.Bët (Lamine Kouyaté), dress and jacket made from repurposed materials, multicolor sweaters, brown wool plaid, red nylon. Photograph © The Museum at FIT

41 42 45 47 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 59 62 63 64 64 66 67 69 70 71 72 73 74 76 77 78 ix

Figures

3.16 Rebecca Earley, Ever and Again shirt “upcycled” from used blouse, multicolor heat photogram-printed polyester. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 80 3.17 FIN (Per Åge Sivertsen), dress, grey/blue organic cotton and recycled polyester. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 81 4.1 Katherine Smallwood (President of the Fashion Revolution Society at Nottingham Trent University) for #WhoMadeMyClothes. Photograph: Katherine Smallwood 84 4.2 Genevieve Sweeney British Knitwear AW21 Leyden Sweater. Photograph: Genevieve Sweeney 85 4.3 ReCreate workshop. Photograph: ReCreate Clothing 86 4.4 Dress and spencer jacket, white cotton. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 87 4.5 Photograph of a ten-year-old spinner in a North Carolina cotton mill by Lewis Wickes Hine. Photography Collection, Miriam and Ira D. Wallach Division of Art, Prints and Photographs, The New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox, and Tilden Foundations 89 4.6 Two women and two men working in an early garment shop. Photographer unknown. Kheel Center, Cornell University, http://www​.ilr​.cornell​.edu​/trianglefire/ 90 4.7 Fazul (age 9) sewing in a local garment shop in Dhaka, Bangladesh. Photo by K M Asad/ LightRocket via Getty Images 92 4.8 Relatives carrying placards and photographs of factory fire victims in Karachi, 2020. Photo by Rizwan Tabassum/AFP via Getty Images 94 4.9 Demonstrators mourning for victims of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire in New York, 1911. Photo by PhotoQuest/Getty Images 95 4.10 New York Dress Institute, evening dress, printed red rayon crepe, rhinestones, seed pearls. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 98 4.11 Madeleine Vionnet, dress, ivory silk georgette. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 99 4.12 Thai homeworker, Rattana Chalermchai. Paula Bronstein/Getty Images 100 4.13 Mountain Artisans, patchwork skirt, multicolor cotton. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 101 4.14 Carlos Miele, Fuxico evening gown, brown and ivory silk. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 102 5.1 Tannery in Amazon, Brazil. Photo by Ricardo Funari/Brazil Photos/LightRocket via Getty Images 106 5.2 Andrew by Kerone Campbell Olai for Josefin Liljekvist 106 5.3 Vegan and sustainable Ananas perfecto jacket by Lo Neel. Photograph: Samuel Fabio 107 5.4 Ahimsa silk organza garment featuring spun glass and wild rubber embellishment by Naomi Bailey-Cooper. Photograph © Naomi Bailey-Cooper 108 5.5 Berthe Tally, hat, woven straw, grey (possibly gull) feathers in the shape of wings. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 109 5.6 Bird of paradise body intended for millinery trimmings. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 110 5.7 Fan, ivory, paper, metallic foil; hair comb, tortoiseshell. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 111 5.8 Handbag, alligator. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 112 5.9 Dressing gown, silk faille, fur. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 113 5.10 Felix Jungmann et Cie, Les Belles Fourrures (Paris: A. Colmer et Cie, September 1913), plate 1. Image courtesy of the Fashion Institute of Technology|SUNY, Gladys Marcus Library Department of Special Collections and College Archives 114 5.11 Installation shot from Eco-Fashion: Going Green. Left: Man’s coat, raccoon fur, wood toggles. Right: Opera coat, blue silk velvet, metallic sequins, bugle beads, raccoon fur. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 115 5.12 Sketch of a Ben Thylan coat to be rendered in mink or sable. Image courtesy of the Fashion Institute of Technology|SUNY, Gladys Marcus Library Department of Special Collections and College Archives 117 5.13 Cawston Ostrich Farm, 1905. Photo by Sepia Times/Universal Images Group via Getty Images 119

x

Figures

5.14 American actress Betty Field wearing a leopard fur coat, 1941. Photo by Archive Photos/Getty Images 121 5.15 Models from the Janice Dickinson agency join PETA’s “I’d Rather Go Naked Than Wear Fur” protest, Los Angeles, 2007. Photo by Chad Buchanan/Getty Images 122 5.16 Madame Grès, coat, brown wool faux fur. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 124 5.17 Installation shot from Eco-Fashion: Going Green. Left: Oscar de la Renta, coat and hat, green wool, faux leopard skin, Mongolian lamb fur. Right: Dolce and Gabbana, coat, tiger print faux fur. Photograph © The Museum at FIT 125 6.1 Fashion Fictions World 54 prototype by Gillian Allsopp, Kate Harper, Johnny O’Flynn and a fourth Fashion Fictions contributor; original fiction by Wendy Ward. Model: Johnny O’Flynn. Photograph: Jade Bramley 130 6.2 Earth Logic values. Katelyn Toth Fejel and Anna Fitzpatrick, courtesy of Earth Logic 131 6.3 Fall Winter and Spring Summer editions of JUMPSUIT. Photo by Lara Kastner, work by the Rational Dress Society 132 6.4 Harvest Day, Homegrown Homespun project. Photograph: Beatrice Photography 133 6.5 Fashion Fictions World 43 “Blue Fashion Commons” prototype and fiction by Amy Twigger Holroyd. Photograph: Craftspace, from “We Are Commoners: Creative Acts of Commoning” national touring exhibition 2021 134 6.6 “Harvesting acorn to feed swine”; detail of a miniature from the Queen Mary Psalter (BL Royal 2 B VII). Held and digitized by the British Library 135 6.7 Soup kitchen for victims of the Lancashire cotton famine. Universal History Archive/Universal Images Group via Getty Images 138 6.8 Barratt shoe shop advert, Picture Post (March 10, 1951). Picture Post/Hulton Archive/Getty Images 139 6.9 Illustration from 1851 showing a woman wearing “Bloomers,” a pair of full trousers under a short skirt. Photo by Library of Congress/Corbis/VCG via Getty Images 143 6.10 How to cut out the “tuta,” Thayaht (Ernesto Michahelles), drawing (tempera and ink on paper), 1920, Tessuti antichi Inventory no. 7591, Florence, Pitti Palace, Museum of Costume and Fashion (former Costume Gallery). Gabinetto Fotografico delle Gallerie degli Uffizi 144​ 6.11 First conference of nudist organisations in England, London, 1934. Photo by Imagno/Getty Images 146 6.12 “Wensley Dale knitters,” New York Public Library Digital Collections 149 6.13 Smock, object number 56/243. The Museum of English Rural Life, University of Reading 151 6.14 Fashion Fictions World 19 prototype (in progress) by Jade Lord; original fiction by Katherine Pogson. Photograph: Sanket Haribhau Nikam 154

xi

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The idea for this book began as an exhibition entitled Eco-Fashion: Going Green, curated by Jennifer and Colleen, which was on view at The Museum at FIT (MFIT) in 2010. We express our heartfelt gratitude to all of our colleagues at MFIT, especially Dr. Valerie Steele, director and chief curator, Patricia Mears, deputy director, and Fred Dennis, senior curator, for their guidance through every phase of this project. We also extend our appreciation to the Museum’s photographer, Eileen Costa, to Thomas Synnamon, for his assistance in preparing objects for photography, and to our conservators Ann Coppinger, Marjorie Jonas, and Nicole Bloomfield. Thanks also to MFIT Editor Julian Clark, whose assistance with writing text for the Eco-Fashion exhibition proved invaluable to the first edition of this publication as well. There are a number of sustainable fashion designers who provided clothing for the Eco-Fashion exhibition, and whose work is also included in this book: Natalie Chanin, Rebecca Earley, Ali Hewson, Peter Ingwersen, Carlos Miele, John Patrick, Sarah Ratty, Per Åge Sivertsen, and Yeohlee Teng. We are in awe of the talent that these designers possess, and we also have tremendous respect for their principles. Insights from Fashion Fictions, an international participatory initiative led by Amy, are incorporated into the final chapter of this book. We are grateful to all those who have contributed worlds to Fashion Fictions, those who have participated in prototyping and enactment workshops and those who have supported the facilitation and documentation of these activities, particularly the project’s Research Fellow, Dr. Matilda Aspinall, and photographers, Jade Bramley and Sanket Haribhau Nikam. Fashion Fictions is funded by an Arts and Humanities Research Council Research, Development and Engagement Fellowship (reference AH/ V01286X/1). For the generous use of historical images, we thank the Kheel Center at Cornell University; the New York Public Library; Le Gallerie degli Uffizi; Museum of English Rural Life, University of Reading; Lynda Grose; Jane Thylan, and the Fashion Institute of Technology|SUNY, Gladys Marcus Library, Department of Special Collections and College Archives. The staff of the latter—Karen Cannell, April Calahan, and Juliet Jacobson— also provided invaluable assistance with research. We are indebted to all those who have kindly supplied images of contemporary practice for the book: Justine Aldersey-Williams and Bea Davidson, Matilda Aspinall, Naomi Bailey-Cooper, Deirdre Figueiredo and Emma Daker, Kate Fletcher and Mathilda Tham, Erica Gadsby, Abigail Glaum-Lathbury and Maura Brewer, Kate Goldsworthy, Lynda Grose, Riddhi Jain Satija, Helen Kirkum, Josefin Liljeqvist, Holly McQuillan, Kate Morris, Frédérique Muller, Maija Nygren, Kate Sekules, Katherine Smallwood, Genevieve Sweeney, and Yifan Wang and Changxian Chu. We are inspired by the commitment and vigor of these sustainable fashion practitioners and thinkers. We thank Stockholm Resilience Centre for the use of the planetary boundaries diagram that is so effective in communicating ecological realities. At Bloomsbury Academic Publishers, we extend our gratitude to the commissioning editor of the first edition, Anna Wright, who helped us take the first steps toward making this book a reality, and the editor of this new edition, Georgia Kennedy, who has guided us through the process with such kindness and vision.

INTRODUCTION

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion: Inspiration for Change explores the historical dimensions of today’s sustainable fashion movement. Should history play a role in the sustainable fashion context? Some may doubt the value of looking to the past, feeling that the global challenges we are facing require fresh thinking and technological innovation. Yet to ignore history is to ignore a vital source of understanding and inspiration. As Kenneth Bartlett explains, history provides “nuance and explanation to not only what happened before we were born but more urgently to the universe we are inhabiting at this very moment.”1 Folklorist Henry Glassie, in an essay titled “The Practice and Purpose of History,” similarly argues that history has value by simultaneously “explaining the development of states of affairs,” and “artfully moving people to awareness of their options.”2 By speaking of options, Glassie draws our gaze to the future and highlights the importance of historical knowledge in helping us to navigate paths forward. With the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change calling for “rapid, far-reaching and unprecedented changes in all aspects of society”3 in order to limit climate change to 1.5°C above preindustrial levels, there is an urgent need for us to explore futures that step away from established trajectories and familiar notions of progress. History can contribute to this creative exploration: as economist Ha-Joon Chang states, “one of the utilities of studying history is to allow us to imagine other realities.”4 Driven by a conviction that a deeper understanding of the past is crucial to our grasp of the present and the development of sustainable futures, we hope that this book will provide a compendium of inspiration for today’s innovators. The book has been developed via three phases of work, stretching back over a decade. Its origins lie in an exhibition, Eco-Fashion: Going Green, that was held at The Museum at The Fashion Institute of Technology in 2010. The co-curators of the exhibition, Jennifer Farley Gordon and Colleen Hill, developed their research into Sustainable Fashion: Past, Present and Future, the first book to concentrate on the history of the relationship between the fashion industry and the environment, published in 2015. This book is a renamed and reframed second edition of that earlier title. Amy Twigger Holroyd, who has been active in the field of fashion and sustainability for close to two decades, has revised and updated the text, aligning the historical material with emergent sustainable fashion debates and adding a new final chapter focused on fashion systems. In that chapter, Amy draws on Fashion Fictions, her international participatory fashion research project that brings people together to generate, experience, and reflect on engaging fictional visions of sustainable fashion cultures and systems.

Global Challenges and Sustainability In 2021, Earth Overshoot Day—the date on which humanity’s demand for ecological resources and services exceeds what the planet can regenerate in that year—was July 29. This means that we would need almost two Earths to sustain current modes of living.5 A “headline” figure such as this hides major disparities in the resource demands of different regions: if the entire global population

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

had the same ecological footprint as the average US citizen, for example, more than five Earths would be needed.6 These calculations are provided by Global Footprint Network, an international research organization  that  aims  to support human life within ecological limits. As the organization explains, the dramatic imbalance between what we take and what the planet can bear is made possible only by “liquidating stocks of ecological resources and accumulating waste, primarily carbon dioxide in the atmosphere.”7 Living beyond our planetary means has devastating consequences, as documented by the United Nations Environment Programme’s Global Environmental Outlook reports, published every few years. The 2019 report, which summarizes global environmental challenges including carbon dioxide emissions, climate change, biodiversity loss, ocean acidification, land degradation, and chemical pollution, highlights “a deterioration in planetary health at unprecedented rates, with increasingly serious consequences, in particular for poorer people and regions.”8 WWF’s Living Planet Report uses simpler language, stating that “our planet is flashing red warning signs.”9 With trends in environmental degradation projected to continue, the need for action could not be more urgent. As the Global Environmental Outlook report explains, “Measures . . . need to be implemented rapidly and at an unprecedented scale.”10​ The concept of sustainability was developed in the 1970s as a way of bringing together social concerns about global deprivation with concerns about the environment.11 Today, this ubiquitous term has multiple possible definitions and interpretations. The most often cited definition is that of sustainable development: “development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own

Figure 0.1  In 2009, scientists identified nine processes that regulate the earth system’s stability and resilience. They proposed quantitative planetary boundaries that create a “safe operating space” within which humanity could thrive in the future. As the diagram shows, several of the boundaries have already been breached, increasing the risk of sudden, largescale, and irreversible environmental changes.12

2

Introduction

needs.”13 People often overlook the fact that this principle includes equity within generations—addressing the huge inequalities that exist between rich and poor countries, for example—as well as between generations. Critics of the sustainable development model would say that it treats nature only as a resource and “fails to recognize that humans and other living beings depend on each other for their well-being.”14 From this “multi-species” perspective, true sustainability involves meeting the current and future needs of all species—not just humans.15 Sustainability has been a source of intense emotion and debate for half a century. As climate change becomes more apparent and natural resources diminish, even more people are becoming conscious of these issues. The fashion industry, our area of focus, has received no small measure of criticism for its environmentally destructive practices. Each stage of a garment’s life—from the cultivation of raw fibers to the disposal of an unwanted garment— has harmful impacts.16 Furthermore, the value of clothing has changed. Once a revered commodity, fashion is now all too often considered disposable. The mass quantity in which clothes are produced means that they have little value in the resale market and thus many items end up in landfills. In fact, the New Economics Foundation states that “Over-consumption in rich countries represents one of the key barriers to sustainable wellbeing worldwide.”17 It is little wonder, then, that the fashion industry—one of the world’s major industries, with a deeply embedded culture of overconsumption—is coming under increasingly intense scrutiny. Accordingly, sustainable fashion is a subject of interest to a wide range of people, including environmentalists, fashion students, and concerned citizens.​

What Is Sustainable Fashion? Just as the concept of sustainability can be interpreted in different ways, so too can the concept of sustainable fashion. The term, which is sometimes used interchangeably with other words, such as “eco,” “green,” and

Figure 0.2  The culture of overconsumption that is entwined with the mainstream globalized fashion system presents a major barrier to sustainability. In October 2021, Extinction Rebellion activists burst onto the catwalk at the Louis Vuitton fashion show in Paris to highlight the impact of the fashion industry on climate change. The protesters called for “an immediate cut in production levels in the sector, given that 42 items of clothing were sold per person in France in 2019.”18

3

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

“organic,” is often used to encompass a scope of fashion production or design methods that are environmentally and/or ethically conscious—suggesting a division of clothing into that which is sustainable, and that which is not. This division is not straightforward, because even those working within the field have differing opinions on best (or most important) practices. Another view frames sustainable fashion as a paradox: impossible to achieve, because sustainability cannot occur alongside the planned obsolescence of rapidly changing fashion styles. From this perspective, sustainability is a goal that we cannot attain but we must do our best to work toward. As Sandy Black, author of Eco-Chic: The Fashion Paradox, notes: “at all stages of design and production decision-making there are trade-offs to be made, reconciling fashion and style with available materials, costs and time constraints.”19 The two interpretations of sustainable fashion outlined earlier could be considered as what sustainable fashion leader Kate Fletcher describes as “more of the same, but more efficient.”20 Fletcher outlines alternative ways of thinking about sustainable fashion, which “frame sustainability as contingent on ‘something different’; that is something different to greater efficiency, also involving fundamental personal, social and institutional change.” In the influential publication Earth Logic Fashion Action Research Plan, published in 2019, Kate Fletcher and Mathilda Tham communicate the ambition and scale of this thinking, explaining: “We need to profoundly rethink fashion.”21 In this book we aim to identify a range of historical examples and insights that can support the profound change in mindset proposed by Fletcher and Tham.

Looking Back The roots of the sustainable fashion movement are commonly traced back to the 1960s and 1970s, in correspondence to rising concerns over the environment. Yet issues surrounding topics such as labor relations, animal rights, and the mass production of clothing have long been subjects of discourse. Designers today face problems that date at least as far back as the nineteenth century—when technological developments resulted in quickly produced but inferior textiles, for example. Problems related to fashion production escalated throughout the twentieth century. By the 1940s, a number of designers were experimenting with synthetic fibers, many of which will take hundreds of years to biodegrade. Natural fibers, especially cotton, were grown using large amounts of chemical fertilizer and pesticides, polluting both soil and water supplies. Despite ethical concerns, animal products, especially furs, became increasingly fashionable luxury commodities. Throughout the United States, garment workers’ unions were formed to promote fair wages and healthy work environments. This unionization prompted a reactionary response: outsourcing production to countries in the global South, where workers are paid very little and labor conditions are often dangerous. The need for significant change in fashion production was established by the 1960s. Often viewed as the foundation of the environmentalist movement, Rachel Carson’s book Silent Spring (1962) specifically referenced the use of pesticides in fiber farming, as well as the damage caused by fabric finishes. By the end of the decade, the “natural” look of the hippies was associated with environmentalism. Several elements of their clothing choices—earth tones, hemp fabric, and patchwork, for example—could be seen as prototypes for later sustainable fashions. Further landmarks in the development of the sustainable fashion movement include Esprit’s ecollection, launched in 1992 (see Figure 0.3), and anti-globalization protests at the World Trade Organization’s meeting in Seattle in 1999. Sasha Rabin Wallinger describes this as a “pivotal social milestone influencing sustainability in fashion,” with campaigners protesting against trade agreements that compromised the health and safety of factory workers and promoting initiatives that would safeguard human rights.22 4

Introduction

Figure 0.3  In the late 1980s Doug Tompkins, the co-founder of mainstream fashion company Esprit, became deeply concerned about the degradation of natural ecosystems. Seeking to drive change via his business, he initiated a lecture series for the company’s employees to raise awareness about ecological issues and in late 1990 placed an advertisement asking customers to buy only what they needed.23 A particularly influential initiative was the ecollection, led by designer Lynda Grose and launched in 1992.24 The collection was informed by the Elmwood Institute’s “Guide to Eco-auditing” which helped establish the environmental impacts of the line’s products.25 The fall 1992 collection shown here (along with a brochure promoting the collection) featured a naturally processed wool sweater with hand-painted buttons and recycled glass beads made by cooperatives and a scarf made from post-consumer recycled fiber.

Since the turn of the millennium, sustainable fashion has steadily grown. Activity has intensified across industry and academia and public awareness has increased. Notable developments include Well Fashioned: Eco Style in the UK, an exhibition at the Crafts Council Gallery in London curated by sustainable textile expert Rebecca Earley in 2006,26 and a crop of books published in 2008, including the much-cited Sustainable Fashion and Textiles: Design Journeys by Kate Fletcher.27 The 2013 collapse of the Rana Plaza building that housed five garment factories in Dhaka, Bangladesh was a tragic milestone that led to the founding of the international Fashion Revolution campaign. Today, the urgency of change is more widely understood than ever, and an array of campaigns, projects, and initiatives is seeking to pursue sustainability in the fashion system in different ways.

Historical Examples The first edition of this book was inspired by an exhibition that was held at The Museum at The Fashion Institute of Technology (MFIT) in 2010, curated by Jennifer and Colleen. With an increase in press and publications regarding sustainable fashion, as well as a growing number of sustainable clothing lines, it felt 5

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

like the perfect time to organize an exhibition on the subject. Eco-Fashion: Going Green featured over 100 examples of clothing, accessories, and textiles from the eighteenth century to the present. The objects were arranged chronologically in the Fashion and Textile History Gallery, a space devoted to the exhibition of materials from the museum’s permanent collections. The exhibition provided a historical context for the contemporary sustainable fashion movement by examining the past two centuries of fashion’s problematic (and occasionally positive) environmental and ethical practices. The majority of curatorial choices were already part of the MFIT collections. In fact, it would be possible to explore the topic of sustainability using nearly any collection of historical clothing: many such collections contain garments that have been altered for continued wear, for example, or that were colored using chemical dyes. Another element crucial to the exhibition was the selection of contemporary sustainable fashion. These new acquisitions were not only featured in Eco-Fashion: Going Green, but they also became part of The Museum at FIT’s permanent collection. In accordance with the museum’s mission to collect aesthetically and historically significant “directional” clothing, contemporary styles were selected for their designers’ devotion to best fashion practices, as well as to high style. Around fifty items from Eco-Fashion: Going Green are featured in the first five chapters of this book, dating from the eighteenth century to the acquisitions made for the exhibition in 2010. Each object is discussed with regards to its materials and/or methods of production, as well as its larger significance to fashion’s past. When Amy came to write Chapter 6, she needed a different means of identifying the historical examples for inclusion. Instead of drawing on a museum archive, she used the visions of alternative fashion systems submitted to the Fashion Fictions project to identify areas of interest. She then looked for historical fashion systems with relevance to the various themes and drew on expert sources to gain insights into their cultures and practices. It is important to note that this book is far from comprehensive: the historical material is largely focused on the United States (and the East Coast in particular), with some discussion of the United Kingdom in Chapter 6 and a few other exceptions. This restricted geographical scope reflects the nature of The Museum at FIT’s collection and the expertise of the authors, who are based in the United States and the United Kingdom. We recognize the importance of plurality in fashion and the value of exploring cultural perspectives beyond the locations that have long dominated both fashion culture and fashion research. Therefore we encourage readers to treat the book as a geographically limited example of how historical insights can be identified and used to inspire contemporary action in the sustainable fashion movement. Exploration beyond the scope of this book could shed light on the ways in which the mainstream globalized fashion system developed and manifested in particular places—and provide vital insight into localized fashion systems and associated ways of knowing that have consequently been displaced.

Chapter by Chapter The chapters in this book follow a consistent pattern, exploring various areas of focus within the field of sustainable fashion. In each chapter an introduction outlines the situation today, highlighting contemporary sustainability strategies via examples from around the world. The main body of each chapter is divided into two sections. The first investigates the development of the fashion industry, which tends to bring problematic issues into focus. The second considers inspiration for change, looking at the historical emergence of ethical

6

Introduction

and sustainable strategies. The conclusion to each chapter raises critical issues that must be considered when pursuing action, and a list of further reading provides suggestions of various resources relating to the chapter’s theme. Chapter 1, Materials and Processes, focuses on the choices we make about fibers, textiles, and finishes. Today, we see designers and businesses seeking to select materials with lower environmental impacts, developing alternative materials with improved sustainability credentials, and considering the best ways to color their fabrics. The chapter explores the history of the cultivation and production of a selection of fibers, considering the environmental problems that have developed as their use has grown, and the emergence of “better” alternatives. It also explores the history of dyeing textiles and the many problems that arose with the development of synthetic chemical dyes in the nineteenth century. Chapter 2, Design and Manufacture, considers the impact of the ways in which we design and make our clothes on the ways in which they are used—and often, rapidly discarded. Faster and less expensive production of fabric and clothing was a vital part of the Industrial Revolution in the nineteenth century, and the chapter outlines the role of these technological developments in the emergence of the contemporary ready-to-wear industry. Yet an abundance of design and making strategies for embedding value in clothing can be observed in the past and today, such as slow fashion, craft production, multifunctional design, and zero-waste pattern cutting. Chapter 3, Reuse and Recycling, examines the wearing of secondhand clothing, the repurposing of existing items into new garments, and the recycling of old fibers into new textiles. Today, techniques of repurposing and recycling are often viewed as especially sustainable, as they eliminate or minimize the need for new material production. Yet these practices have long histories and the chapter examines a variety of examples from the eighteenth century to the early twenty-first century. Over this period the context for reuse and recycling shifted: once widespread, the practices became marginal as mass production developed in the twentieth century, before returning to importance in recent decades. Chapter 4, Labor Practices, places attention on the exploitation of garment workers—which has long been a major ethical issue in the fashion industry. Unsafe or unfair working conditions characterized nineteenthand early twentieth-century textile mills and garment factories. Unions were formed to promote fair wages and healthy work environments in the United States, which improved conditions for some. Yet this prompted an increase in the outsourcing of production overseas, where pay is likewise low and working conditions are often dangerous. To combat this, modern strategies include transparency initiatives, cooperatives, and fair trade agreements. Chapter 5, Treatment of Animals, considers the debate over the responsible and humane use of animal products, which today involves discussion of animal welfare, traceability, by-product materials, and crueltyfree alternatives. Historical insights are provided by focusing on two categories of animal products: fur and feathers. Feathers were the more controversial animal product during the nineteenth century, but since, outrage has been directed at the wearing of fur. In both cases, we can observe arguments about the ethics of using animals for fashion products that still resonate today. Chapter 6, Fashion Systems, acknowledges the limitations of tackling sustainability problems in an isolated way and zooms out to take a holistic view. The globalized mainstream fashion system is critically examined, with a particular focus on the historical development of the capitalist economy within which the fashion industry operates. Various historical alternatives are then explored in order to understand diverse approaches to reimagining the status quo. These alternatives include both “genuine” fashion cultures and systems and unrealized utopian proposals that aimed to instigate fundamentally new ways of practicing fashion.

7

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

Using This Book This book invites you to explore the historical dimensions of various areas of concern in the field of sustainable fashion. You might want to gain an understanding of how the fashion industry that we know today has developed, or to make connections between past and present. You might want to search for inspirational stories of committed activism that brought about significant change. Along with stories of success you will encounter cautionary tales: strategies for improving the human and environmental impact of the fashion system that failed to work, and initiatives whose achievements were undone as the social and economic context shifted. You may find material here that inspires you to take immediate action; you may find yourself asking questions that warrant deeper investigation. As Henry Glassie explains, “It is history’s purpose to preserve things that prompt questions as much as to supply answers that inspire action.”28​ Some of the contemporary examples shared within the book provide indications of how historical knowledge might inform contemporary activity. In Figure 3.2 we highlight the visible mending movement, which encourages wearers to make a feature of repairs on their garments, and the trend for people to meet up to mend together in public. Such making-based social events have a striking resonance with the communal stitching sessions that have long been common in many cultures. While not directly inspired by these past practices, knowledge of historical parallels can bring another layer of meaning to this contemporary activity. In Figure 5.4 we present the doctoral research of designer Naomi Bailey-Cooper, who developed novel textile embellishments based on the historical and contemporary attraction of fur and exotic animal materials. As part of her research, Bailey-Cooper studied animal-based artifacts at the Victoria & Albert Museum archive, using the intimate understandings that she gained to inform her cruelty-free alternatives. Archival research also played a role in the development of an experimental bio-based nonwoven material, shown in Figure 1.2. Designers Kay Politowicz and Kate Goldsworthy took inspiration from disposable paper garments of the 1960s (as discussed in Chapter 2) but sought to address the waste issues associated with these items through material innovation. The JUMPSUIT project shown in Figure 6.3 provides another example of the inspiration that can be found by looking at the past. This artist-led counter-fashion initiative makes direct reference to historical dress reform movements, from the nineteenth-century Rational Dress Society to the artists of the early Soviet Union who sought a radical new approach to clothing. These are just a few examples of the endless possibilities for creative action inspired by historical understandings in the sphere of sustainable fashion; there are many more to be discovered. We hope that you will be similarly informed and inspired as you explore the diverse selection of examples gathered in the chapters of this book.

Figure 0.4  An inspirational example of design activity based on historical knowledge can be found in the doctoral research of Matilda Aspinall, which investigated refashioning skills from the mid-eighteenth century to the mid-twentieth century.29 As part of her research, Aspinall studied a princess-line dress in the archives of the Museum of London. Originally created in the late eighteenth century, the gown was unpicked and refashioned in the 1840s and again in the 1880s. (See Chapter 3 for further discussion of refashioning practices during this period.) Aspinall used the refashioning techniques evident in the historical dress to inform a contemporary women’s garment, designed for prolonged life. Embedded within the initial form of the dress she created is another preconceived design, shown here. The garment’s second form is released when the wearer follows downloadable instructions for unpicking and reconstruction which are accessed via an embroidered QR code. 8

10

C hapter 1 MATERIALS AND PROCESSES

Mention sustainable fashion, and many people will immediately think of materials: the stuff from which our garments are made. For designers, brands, manufacturers, and wearers, material choices are an obvious and important concern, because the impacts of textile production on the environment are profound. Consider, for example, the extraction of a fossil fuel—oil—for the production of synthetic fibers and the damaging microfibers that are released when these fibers are laundered; pesticide use and water scarcity linked to cotton production; and the many chemicals involved in the dyeing process that contaminate waterways through unregulated disposal. It can be difficult to understand the specific impacts of fashion and textile production, partly because there is a shortage of openly accessible and robust data and partly because tools for measuring impacts often overlook differences between different production contexts and omit impacts that cannot be easily quantified. Furthermore, misinformation is rife in the sector: as a recent report by the Transformers Foundation indicates, “Half-truths, out-of-date information and shocking statistics stripped of context are widely circulated.”1 Countless efforts to develop more sustainable materials and processes are underway, from industry-led initiatives and ground-breaking academic research projects to explorations led by individuals and microenterprises. A common approach that can be observed across the full fashion spectrum, from high street “eco” ranges to luxury brands and independent sustainable fashion labels, is the use of fibers that are considered to have lower environmental impacts. The collection by designer Kate Morris shown in Figure 1.1, for example, was underpinned by careful research into the impacts of different fibers. Some initiatives are working to develop alternative materials that reduce or eliminate the issues associated with existing fibers and fabrics. The experimental paper-textile created by Kay Politowicz, Kate Goldsworthy, and Hjalmar Granberg shown in Figure 1.2 is one such alternative material. The project aimed to create a range of wearable papers that could be easily recovered at the end of a short lifetime, either through domestic paper recycling or industrial composting. Other initiatives are exploring the potential of synthetic biology to engineer new biodegradable fibers and fabrics. In terms of dyeing, designers can choose nontoxic processes certified by various industry standards; researchers are undertaking work to innovate further in problematic areas such as wastewater treatments. Meanwhile, a wide range of initiatives, both large- and micro-scale, are guiding a return to naturally derived coloration methods, whether using traditional dyestuffs, food waste, bacterial pigments, or alternative approaches such as color-grown cotton. Medium, a fashion and home textile design studio led by Riddhi Jain Satija and based in New Delhi, uses traditional hand-woven fabrics and natural dyes for its garments, as shown in Figure 1.3—drawing on the rich history of these crafts in India. This chapter explores the history of the cultivation and production of a selection of fibers, focusing on those that are especially pertinent to the discussion of sustainable fashion: cotton, wool, rayon, nylon, polyester, and unconventional materials including PVC and cellophane. We consider the environmental problems that have developed as the use of these fibers has grown, and examine the emergence of alternatives that are considered to have lower impacts, including organic cotton, hemp, bamboo, and lyocell. The recycling of fibers, while mentioned here, is discussed further in Chapter 3. The chapter also explores the historical practices and

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

Figure 1.1 For her MA in Fashion Knitwear Design at Nottingham Trent University, Kate Morris created CROP, a collection of vegan knitwear made from plant-based fibers. She incorporated composition and care advice into the jacquard patterns in order to promote low-impact laundering. Avoiding the use of separate synthetic labels means that the entire top can be constructed from just one fiber—organic cotton—to aid eventual recycling.

Figure 1.2  This experimental bio-based nonwoven material is composed of unbleached and unrefined softwood paper pulp from sustainable forests, PLA (corn starch) staple fibers, and micro-fibrillated cellulose. Designers Kay Politowicz and Kate Goldsworthy took inspiration from disposable paper garments of the 1960s (discussed in Chapter 2) for this project—but the material that they engineered with material scientist Hjalmar Granberg has a thermoplastic quality, enabling many processes not usually possible with paper. It is intended that at the end of a short wear period, the user would return the top for industrial composting. The rate of decomposition of the material is increased due to the effects of the finishing techniques used to create performance and aesthetic quality. 12

Materials and Processes

Figure 1.3 The Out of the Blue capsule collection created by Medium, a New Delhi-based fashion studio, is dyed in natural indigo using the Japanese traditional craft of shibori. The collection is based on zero-waste pattern techniques, as discussed in Chapter 2.

problems associated with dyeing textiles, which were magnified by the advent of industrial production and the transition from primarily organic dyes to aniline dyes, or synthetic chemical dyes, during the nineteenth century. By addressing the historical evolution of fabric production and coloration and its impact on the environment, we can make connections to the corresponding problems faced by the contemporary fashion and textile industries—as well as the more sustainable solutions proposed in response.

How Did We Get Here? First, let us examine the development of industrial textile production systems, commencing with the astounding changes propagated by the Industrial Revolution of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Fashion writer M. D. C. Crawford marveled that “within a period of no less than a century a small group of mechanics . . . had changed methods of spinning and weaving, dyeing, and fabric decoration which had a previous history of perhaps ten thousand years.”2 These dramatic shifts lay the groundwork for further technological developments during the twentieth century. The Development of Cotton Cotton is one of the most widely used and oldest known fibers. It has been cultivated continuously for at least 5,000 years,3 and its importance to the apparel industry has been a source of inspiration, innovation, and political conflict. In the period up to 1500 CE, India was the largest producer of cotton cloth in the world, with its products known and appreciated in many countries via developing trade routes.4 Since raw cotton was 13

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

not a natural resource in Europe—meaning its importation was necessary—it took hundreds of years for the fiber to become an integral part of European fashion.5 Once cotton took hold in Europe in the late seventeenth century, it was used extensively and by the early nineteenth century, Europe had become established as the main location of cotton textile production.6 Cotton was especially revered for its “chameleon-like” quality, meaning that it could be used in some ways like linen, and in other ways like lightweight wools or silks.7 Imports of fine Indian cotton, in particular, were easily cleaned and cared for, could be beautifully printed or painted, and were fine enough to be pleated and draped.8 Throughout most of the eighteenth century, much of the raw cotton used in Europe was shipped from the West Indies and the eastern Mediterranean, until the United States began to export cotton at the century’s end.9 Cotton’s popularity was enhanced by its relatively inexpensive production, largely due to the use of enslaved labor trafficked from Africa into the West Indies and the United States. In addition to providing raw fiber for the national and international market, the United States made another vital contribution to cotton production at the end of the eighteenth century: the invention of the cotton gin. Patented in 1793 by Eli Whitney, the cotton gin was said to have unlocked “the imprisoned resources of the South”10 through the mechanical separation of the sticky cotton fiber from its seeds—a task that was previously completed by hand, and in the southern regions of North America, typically performed by slaves. Whereas a skilled picker could get through one pound of cotton per day, an average of fifty pounds could be completed in the same amount of time using the cotton gin. As Whitney himself wrote of his invention, “this machine may be turned by water or with a horse, with the greatest ease, and one man and a horse will do more than fifty men with the old machines. It makes the labor fifty times less, without throwing any class of People out of business.”11 The impact of Whitney’s invention was profound: in 1791, a reported 2 million pounds of cotton were produced in the United States. By 1860, that number had leaped up to 1,650 million pounds.12 Not surprisingly, the use of cotton was greater than that of any other fiber in the mid-nineteenth century and comprised almost 70 percent of all textiles produced in the United States.13 The seemingly insatiable desire for cotton only continued to expand. In 1900, US consumers purchased around 3.4 million tons of fabric, which consisted of approximately 25 percent wool and 75 percent cotton.14​ Cotton is a natural fiber, meaning its growth is easily hindered by conditions such as pests, drought, and an overly rainy season. In an 1854 article in Harper’s New Monthly Magazine, the author mentioned just a few of the challenges faced by cotton farmers: the “rust” and “rot” of cotton plants in the wet season, which was often followed by an infestation of worms, and the devastating invasion of army-worms, which could eat an entire crop in a matter of hours. “They seem to spring out of the ground, and fall from the clouds,”15 he wrote despairingly. It was clear that ways to counteract pests were crucial to meeting (or exceeding) the high demand for cotton—and thus began the use of chemical pesticides in the twentieth century. Pesticides—a term that encompasses fungicides, herbicides, and insecticides—are used to deter pests and weeds. Heavy usage of pesticides has enabled the amount of cotton grown to triple in the past eighty years, yet the percentage of land dedicated to cotton farming has scarcely expanded. This has resulted in a variety of serious environmental crises, such as reduced soil fertility, loss of biodiversity, and life-threatening health problems for those who have been exposed repeatedly to the toxic chemicals used in pesticides.16 Awareness of the hazards surrounding the use of pesticides is not new—Rachel Carson specifically mentioned them in Silent Spring in 1962. In addition to the pesticides often deemed necessary, problems arise in relation to the volumes of water needed for cotton production. Although cotton is a drought-tolerant plant, when grown in water-stressed areas, the crop can contribute to water scarcity.17 Around half of the land under cotton cultivation requires irrigation, with the quantities of water drawn down varying according to agricultural practices and climate.18 The diversion of water away from its original source, in order to provide for cotton farming, can wreak great ecological harm. 14

Materials and Processes

Figure 1.4  The cotton gin, patented by Eli Whitney in 1793, transformed the processing of cotton fiber. This engraving depicts enslaved African people picking the cotton and using the gin, while white land-owners inspect the processed fiber.

Wool and Its Competitors Like cotton, wool has a long history: its cultivation can be traced back over 6,000 years.19 Wool is a remarkable fiber. It acts as a natural insulator, can keep the body warm or cool as necessary, and repels dirt, stains, and water. It has also proven to be extremely versatile and durable.20 Historically, wool was cotton’s greatest rival, and both fibers were suited to a variety of apparel types. While cotton reigned as the most common plantderived fiber, wool was the predominant animal-derived fiber. In eighteenth-century England, especially, wool production was a crucial component of the nation’s economy. People of all classes in England wore domestically produced wool garments in the early part of the century,21 and woolen fabrics were available in varying qualities and blends, such as wool and silk or wool and linen.22 Although imports of cotton fabric gradually challenged wool’s importance to English fashion, wool production continued to rise. From 1721 to 1774, the amount of wool cloth shipped to the United States from England increased by over 500 percent, a number that exceeded the rise of the US population.23 Over 800 new mills opened in England between 1835 and 1874, and employment in woolen mills rose from just under 53,000 to nearly 139,000 persons.24 By the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, New England had itself become established as an important hub for wool production. Although cotton was increasingly used for blankets, summer suitings, and other items that had previously relied on wool,25 American production of wool fiber continued to expand into the 1920s. As the twentieth century progressed, however, wool began to face another serious competitor: manmade fibers. By the 1950s, a US study showed that Orlon, an acrylic fiber, was used more often for winter sweaters than wool.26 Synthetic fibers were especially popular among young people and were liked for being 15

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

easier to wash and care for than natural materials.27 In an attempt to counteract the encroaching dominance of synthetics, the Woolmark campaign was launched by the International Wool Secretariat in 1964, touting natural virgin wool as a superior fiber. Woolmark ads featured the tagline “People who have everything wear wool,” and promoted the quality of woolen clothing. The campaign must have been somewhat effective, as wool production did increase over the course of the 1970s and into the 1980s, particularly in developing nations and the United States. Yet in 1985 synthetic fiber production remained, on average, over twenty times that of wool.28 Today, the wool industry represents only about 1 percent of fiber production worldwide.29 Silk and Rayon Silk, which is produced from the cocoons of the silkworm, is another fiber with a long history: its cultivation began nearly seven thousand years ago in China. Historian Mary Schoeser argues that silk shaped world history, with centuries of global trade leading to the transmission of designs, technologies, and ideologies.30 Silk has extraordinary properties: its smooth, fine filaments are extremely strong and lightweight and can measure up to 1500 yards in length. The fiber can carry vivid color, wicks moisture, and dries quickly.31 Thanks to these characteristics, silk has long been used as a symbol of luxury, with its use at times restricted to royalty and the aristocracy.32 In the usual method of production, the cocoons are steamed to kill the grub inside, as otherwise the filament would be damaged.33 An alternative method, known as tussah silk, involves the collection of cocoons after the silk moth has emerged naturally. This method produces shorter lengths of silk fiber, which is then spun in a similar way to other fibers.34 Rayon, the first commercially produced man-made fiber, was patented in 1892 by a British chemist named Charles Cross and his associates.35 The fiber, also known as viscose, was conceived and initially marketed as a substitute for silk, which was notoriously difficult and costly to produce. Several of the positive attributes of silk—including its luster, handle, and drape—can be mimicked with the rayon fiber, which also takes well to various dyes and finishes. In addition, rayon was stronger than silk and— most importantly—inexpensive. In the early 1920s, raw silk cost US$8.65 a pound, whereas rayon cost just US$2.80 per pound.36 However, the carbon disulfide required for rayon production is highly toxic. According to occupational health expert Paul David Blanc, “Throughout most of the twentieth century, viscose rayon manufacturing was inextricably linked to widespread, severe, and often lethal illness among those employed in making it.”37 Despite these problems, many inexpensive, mass-produced clothes began to be made using rayon fabrics. The Viscose Company, a New York-based manufacturer, reported that fiber production rose from 350,000 pounds in 1911 to 28,000,000 pounds in 1924.38 That was an incredible eighty-fold increase in just over a decade—and yet the company still struggled to keep up with demand. “There is hardly an end to the myriad ways in which rayon serves you,” claimed an ad for Drecoll rayon in 1928. “It is made into apparel of every kind, from dainty lingerie to formal evening gowns.”39​ By the late 1920s, the production and use of rayon had expanded beyond inexpensive clothing styles, and a number of couturiers began to work with the fiber for their designs. Elsa Schiaparelli, in particular, was known for her close association with several textile manufacturers. As curator Dilys Blum wrote in her extensive monograph on Schiaparelli’s work: “In Schiaparelli’s hands synthetic fabrics became chic, and she was credited with making rayon fashionable by using unique weaves that took on the appearance of wools, linens, or silks but still retained the distinctive draping quality that was one of the fabric’s greatest assets.”41 16

Materials and Processes

Figure 1.5  This unlabelled day dress provides an example of the basic yet stylish clothing that was most often associated with rayon in the 1920s. Sears featured similar rayon dresses in its 1928 catalog, which ranged in price from US$0.98 to $3.89.40 The dress was knit in the simple, tubular silhouette of the era, from a blend of rayon and cotton yarns dyed a vibrant shade of orange. The ruffles applied to the front of the dress, as well as the piping at the neckline and pockets, were made from printed cotton. Dress, orange rayon/cotton blend, multicolored floral cotton, c. 1926, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 80.50.2. Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Charles Easton.

Rayon is an especially interesting fiber in relation to its environmental impact. It is classified as a manmade fiber, rather than a synthetic, meaning that it is chemically produced from cellulose (a substance derived from the cell walls of plants). Easily grown trees, such as beech, allow cellulose to be generated with relatively little ecological impact. In addition, because rayon is derived from a natural material, it is biodegradable. Nevertheless, rayon production is highly energy-intensive, and far from eco-friendly. It requires that wood be ground into pulp and spun—a process that requires multiple trips around the rayon factory. The energy needed to run such large factories is vast. Furthermore, the production of rayon is exceptionally polluting to both air and water, as well as people.42

Synthetic Fibers The success of rayon led to the development of other artificial fibers in the first half of the twentieth century. “The rapid increase in materials with new and strange names appearing from season to season sometimes makes choice bewildering. New fibers, new weaves, new finishes are constantly changing the appearance and feel of fabrics,”43 lamented the author of a 1940 clothing handbook for women. Just two years before, Du Pont had introduced the first fully synthetic, “miracle” fiber, nylon. Dr. Charles Stine, one of the chemists involved with nylon’s invention, spoke of the merits of his new fiber for the New York Herald Tribune Forum in 1938: “Nylon can be fashioned into filaments as strong as steel, as fine as the spider’s web, yet more elastic than any of the common natural fibers and possessing a beautiful chemical luster.”44 17

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

The fiber’s qualities were especially well suited to women’s hosiery, which was made commercially available in 1939. Nylon hosiery was worn in place of delicate, more costly silk stockings, and it was an immediate success. Foundation garments made from nylon soon followed. With the advent of the Second World War, however, nylon became an essential material for products such as parachutes and tents.45 Therefore, the manufacture of nylon hosiery ceased during the war years but began again immediately following the war. Between 1947 and 1952, shipments of nylon fabric increased from 25.4 million to 134.1 million pounds.46 As the nylon fiber proved to be remarkably versatile—it could be made to resemble anything from silk satin to wool47—its use for clothing also expanded during that time. In 1954 a survey conducted by the US Department of Agriculture indicated that nylon was the most widely known synthetic fiber and that it was praised for its laundering qualities and durability.48​ The idea of “wash and wear” clothing was developed in the 1950s. Such garments were made from a variety of synthetic fibers, including acrylic, polyester, and nylon. Sales of wash and wear suits, as shown in Figure 1.7, rose from 1,200 in 1952 to 2,000,000 in 1958, meaning that they came to account for approximately one-third of suit sales overall in the United States.50 These suits were easy to launder (whereas suits from traditional materials required dry-cleaning), and they dried easily. Wash and wear clothing remained popular through the 1960s; according to a study in 1968, 73 percent of American women surveyed owned at least one garment made from wash and wear fabric.51

Figure 1.6  In 1950 Claire McCardell, a premier American sportswear designer, introduced this Grecian-style evening dress made from white nylon tricot, printed with a pattern of red roses. McCardell was known for using materials that were inexpensive, washable, and generally easy to care for, such as humble cotton or wool fabrics. The nylon fabric used for this dress was typically relegated to the lingerie market, but in her hands, its use resulted in “subtly sexy evening wear designs” that could “hold their own against dresses costing ten times as much.”49 Claire McCardell, evening dress, white printed nylon, 1950, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 72.61.182. 18

Materials and Processes

Figure 1.7  This man’s suit was constructed from grey seersucker nylon fabric by a company that was actually called “Wash ‘N’ Wear.” Many wash and wear fabrics were promoted for their resistance to wrinkles—although that claim was not always entirely accurate, as evidenced by the appearance of this suit. Wash N’ Wear, man’s suit, grey nylon seersucker, c. 1959, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, P88.80.1.

Nylon’s wrinkle-resistant qualities reduce the need for routine ironing, which saves a great deal of energy over a garment’s wearable life. The production of nylon fiber, however, is especially harmful to the environment. Nylon relies on petroleum oil, which is a non-renewable resource; its location and extraction are incredibly taxing on the environment. The manufacture of nylon is a highly energy-intensive process and also generates nitrous oxide, a potent greenhouse gas. Even in small amounts, nitrous oxide is a dangerous contributor to global climate change.52 Although nylon can be recycled, much of the fiber ends up in landfills, where it will take hundreds of years to decompose. Nylon production has been in decline since the late 1960s, however, when polyester came to dominate the synthetic fiber market. Today, its primary usage is for carpeting and many home fabrics, as well as some hosiery, sportswear, and sporting equipment.53 Nylon paved the way for the development of a host of other synthetic fibers, including polyester, which was patented in 1941. Polyester was used for clothing by the 1950s, but it was not immediately popular. In addition to having to compete with more established synthetic fibers—especially nylon and acrylic—there were notable issues with early versions of polyester fabric. Excessive static during processing, difficulty with dyeing, and oily soiling were just a few of the numerous problems reported.54 As the quality of polyester increased over time, however, it came to be used more frequently, and it began to displace cotton. By 1968, the production of synthetics had surpassed that of natural fibers,55 and polyester was in the greatest demand. “Polyester Emerges from the Shadow of Nylon,” proclaimed a New York Times headline that same year.56 Similar to rayon and nylon, polyester was an inexpensive fiber, and it ultimately came to be ubiquitous for both low- and high-end fashions. In recent years, polyester has been a topic of frequent discussion in the fashion industry, due in large part to the volume at which it is currently produced. While polyester has long dominated the market for man-made textiles, it accounted for more than 50 percent of total fiber production in 201957 and has been described as “the backbone of fast fashion.”58 19

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

Like nylon, polyester is made from petroleum oil and therefore carries the same devastating impacts in terms of extraction. The production process is highly energy-intensive and produces emissions with “a medium to high potential of causing environmental damage if discharged untreated.”59 In recent years awareness of the impacts of microfiber pollution—linked with synthetic fibers and especially polyester, due to its widespread use—has grown rapidly. These microscopic fibers are shed from clothing, particularly during laundering: a single wash cycle has been found to release an average of 9 million microfibers.60 There is evidence that microfibers, which are small enough for organisms to ingest and are often contaminated with harmful chemicals, are damaging ocean ecosystems. They have even been found in the placentas of unborn babies, and the consequences for human health are not yet understood.61 Despite these significant problems, some positive qualities of polyester production can be identified. The fiber is strong, easy to care for, and wrinkle resistant. Furthermore, it does not absorb moisture, reducing the need for machine drying after laundering. The polyester fiber can also be recycled— although the vast majority of recycled polyester clothing is made from PET bottles, rather than used clothes (see Chapter 3 for more information).62 Polyester is typically scored highly by industry-run indexes that rank fibers according to their environmental impacts, partly because its production process is considered to use little water in comparison with cotton.63 However, this assumption has recently been challenged by research indicating that the water footprint of polyester can, in fact, be as much as seven times that of cotton.64 Unconventional Materials Many man-made or synthetic fibers were developed to mimic or improve upon natural materials. Others were not initially intended for use in fashion, and have appealed primarily for their novelty. Cellophane, for example, was developed in the early twentieth century as a packaging product, but its light weight and shimmer proved intriguing to fashion designers and wearers alike. The material was named for the primary component from which it was made: cellulose. Woven strips of cellophane could be used in place of straw—making the material an especially popular choice for millinery—but it was also woven into other fabrics and used for clothing, especially in the 1920s and 1930s. Not surprisingly, the cellophane production process was similar to that of rayon, meaning that it was both energy-intensive and polluting.65​ Polyvinyl Chloride (PVC) was discovered by accident in 1926 when a scientist working for B. F. Goodrich was attempting to develop synthetic rubber. The material was soon applied to outerwear, such as raincoats and umbrellas.66 In the 1960s, shiny vinyl materials had a desirably “Space Age” appearance that furthered their appeal. British designer Mary Quant was among the first to experiment with PVC in her 1963 “Wet Collection,” but technical problems surrounding the application of the material for fashion took her nearly two years to resolve. As the designer recalled in her autobiography, Quant by Quant, “by that time other designers on both sides of the Channel were as bewitched as I still am with this super-shiny man-made stuff and its shrieking colors.”67 While the vinyl clothing of the 1960s was soon displaced by the more “natural” look of the hippies, the material did not disappear from fashion. PVC and other plastics remain in common use, especially for inexpensive handbags and shoes. In spite of their sleek look, however, it is now known that plastics are highly carcinogenic, and their production relies on petrochemicals. Furthermore, plastics can gradually release toxic chemicals that leak into the ecosystem while they biodegrade—a process that will take hundreds of years.​ 20

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Figure 1.8  In 1934 Lucien Lelong, a leading French couturier renowned for his exquisite taste and sense of modernity, used cellophane in designs including this elegant evening cape. The design of the cape itself was simple, allowing all focus to be on the shimmery effect of the dark blue cellophane strips, attached to a silk tulle backing fabric. Lucien Lelong, evening cape, dark blue cellophane, navy tulle, 1934, France. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 76.196.30. Gift of Fernanda Munn Kellogg.

Figure 1.9 This couture dress by André Courrèges features an interesting mix of immaculate construction techniques and materials. The “openwork” effect is created from hand-stitched pieces of pale silk and black chiffon, with cutout trim in black vinyl. Vinyl was an inexpensive, “futuristic” material, embraced for its overtly synthetic appearance. Installation shot from Eco-Fashion: Going Green (The Museum at FIT, 2010). André Courrèges, dress, black vinyl, black chiffon, pale silk, c. 1967, France. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 86.49.8. Gift of Sylvia Slifka. 21

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

The Invention of Synthetic Dyes The impacts of textile production are not limited to the fibers themselves: coloration and patterning carry their own environmental implications. While we will focus on the impacts of dyes, it is important to note that by the time dyeing occurs, a yarn or a fabric may have been through various stages of pretreatment and processing such as cleaning or bleaching, which also cause chemical impacts on the environment. Prior to the mid-nineteenth century, that is, for most of human history, dyeing was done using organic materials gathered from plants, insects, or minerals. For instance, the plant madder and the insect cochineal were common sources of the color red; indigo or woad, both plant-based, provided blue; and the safflower plant was culled to provide yellow coloring. Dyestuffs were mostly determined by local availability, and generally speaking, waste was localized and produced on a far smaller scale than production using the synthetic dyes that were to follow.​ During the mid-nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, dyes began to be synthesized from chemical sources, a revolutionary change to the clothing and textile dyeing industry. Interestingly, the first commercially successful synthetic, or aniline, fabric dye was an accidental innovation. In 1856, chemist William Henry Perkin derived mauveine dye from coal tar during an experiment, in which

Figure 1.10 The multicolor zigzag pattern on this dress was achieved through an industrial process that was new in the 1820s, roller printing. This process enables the creation of intricate, multicolored patterns much less expensively than hand block or engraved copper plate printing.68 Although the dress’s production process was modern, its dyes certainly were not: its comparatively subdued green, yellow, and red color palette was created using natural dyes. It would be another three decades before the introduction of synthetic dyes. Installation shot from Eco-Fashion: Going Green (The Museum at FIT, 2010). Dress and pelerine, green, yellow, and red roller-printed cotton, c. 1821, England. Collection of The Museum at FIT, P83.32.2. Museum purchase. 22

Materials and Processes

he  had sought to create a synthetic version of the natural compound quinine. Perkin instead found himself with an entirely different product, which through additional testing produced his soon-to-befamous mauve dye.69 Mauveine was unlike anything the public had seen, its brilliance unmatched by any natural dye.​ Perkin’s mauveine transformed dyeing, paving the way for an influx of synthetic dyes that produced bold, vivid colors. Perkin solved the logistics of commercial development of synthetic dye, and as he said in 1868, “to introduce a new coal-tar colour after the mauve was a comparatively simple matter.”70 As the century progressed, new dyes were developed and marketed, one after another; magentas, reds, greens, and finally blues—the possibilities seemed endless. The dyeing industry developed rapidly, with chemical “coal tar colors” displacing dyes from plant, insect, and mineral sources at textile production centers around the world. “The use of natural colors in dyeing is disappearing year by year and artificial products from coal tar are steadily and surely taking their place. Nearly every color has been found to lurk in that black and uninviting substance called pitch or tar,” reported the New York Times in 1893.71 What made the new dyes so attractive, apart from the brilliance of the colors they produced, was that they were cost-effective. One pound of the red dye synthetic alizarin, reported the New York Times in 1915, equaled “the coloring power of ninety pounds of madder.”72 Despite these dramatic changes in dyeing practices, it is important to note that uptake of chemical dyes was uneven. In some regions, traditional practices have persisted to the present day and are now protected as intangible cultural heritage. Human Impacts of Dyeing Although the march of aniline dyes, with their inexpensive and radiant colors, continued undeterred through the latter half of the nineteenth century, their potentially toxic chemical makeup became a point of concern. Scholar P. W. J. Bartrip, who studied arsenic in the Victorian environment, has written that during that era, “Any manufactured item coloured green was as likely as not to have been dyed with arsenic.”73 Dr. Alfred Swaine Taylor discussed these “arsenite of copper” pigments in an 1875 publication, confirming the widespread use of the dyes in fashion, particularly for artificial flowers and a thin cotton fabric called tarlatan, and warned of the dangers of arsenic poisoning.74 Health risks to the textile worker as well as the wearer ranged from skin irritation to poisoning from inhalation of dust or fumes, although some experts felt that the most common method of transmission for the poison from fabric was through the skin.75 “Girls employed in this manufacture, as well as dressmakers, suffer seriously from this form of poisoning,” wrote Taylor, which harmed their eyes and respiratory systems.76 While green dye was the most notorious, it should be noted that a great many other aniline dyes also contained arsenic. In 1878, a reporter from Fraser’s Magazine observed the vast quantities of arsenic at a mine that supplied the chemical to the dye industry. He wrote, “More than 2,000 tons a year are sent out from this one mine, to be used mainly in those brilliant modern dyes by which our women can dazzle the sunshine at cheap expense.” He was discomfited by the toxin’s presence, and also unable to answer the basic question: “Is it safe to wear?” Experts had reached no consensus. However, the author noted one of the reasons that arsenic was so potentially dangerous: it could pass undetected.77 Poisoning could happen slowly without the awareness of its victim, which surely should have been a red flag in its use in products so intimately connected to the body. As time went on, evidence mounted against the safety of working with or wearing clothing dyed with arsenic compounds. The Bureau of Chemistry within the US Department of Agriculture undertook a study that tried to quantify the arsenic problem. Red, black, and green dyes seemed to be the biggest offenders, 23

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

Figure 1.11  This black and bright purple silk taffeta dress, colored using the new chemical synthetic dyes developed by William Henry Perkin from coal tar, dates from c. 1860. It demonstrates the brightness of synthetic dyes, and their colorfastness: over 150 years after it was produced, the fabric still retains a marked intensity of color. Dress, purple and black striped silk taffeta, c. 1860, England. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 2006.43.1. Museum purchase.

however: “the presence of large amounts of arsenic does not seem to be confined to any particular class of goods, since those containing the largest amounts include calicos, cashmeres, outing flannels, ducks, mohairs, and flannelets.”78 In all, 11 percent of the fabrics they tested contained a significant amount of the poison.79 Yet arsenic was not alone in the dangerous chemicals employed in dyeing, and the danger was especially great for the workers in dye factories. As early as 1895 there was speculation, based on illnesses of workers in aniline dye factories, that components of chemical dyes could be carcinogenic80—a concern that has not abated in the contemporary industry. In 1868, when Perkin delivered lectures for the Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce, he made mention of one of the contemporary methods of manufacturing magenta dye, which included the use of mercury. Although “with care this process works very well, and the colouring matter produced is of good quality,” he admitted, “the use of mercury salts is most undesirable on account of their fearfully deleterious influence upon the workmen.”81 Many years later, a 1921 Labor Department publication examined the potential effects of aniline dyes on workers, determining that both fumes and skin contact could be problematic.82 As they explained, coal-tar dyes contained a number of chemical compounds, not just arsenic, which could affect the skin, nervous system, and blood.83 The harmfulness of particular dyes is sometimes recognized only in hindsight. Another type of chemical dye, azo, first hit the market about a decade after Perkin discovered mauveine.84 In 1921, Dr. Alice Hamilton, writing under the auspices of the US Department of Labor, declared, “the making of azo

24

Materials and Processes

dyes . . . the safest branch of the color industry.”85 Yet azo dyes are a serious worry for many contemporary scientists and conservationists, as under certain conditions some may have carcinogenic properties as they chemically decompose.86 As a result, their use is regulated and/or prohibited in many places,87 but they continue to appeal to producers now, as they did then, because of their efficiency and colorfastness.88 Environmental Impacts of Dyeing At the time of their development, aniline dyes were praised not just for their modernity and beautiful hues, but also because the coal tar they utilized was waste material, and by all accounts one that was nasty, foul-smelling, and difficult to dispose of. However, while repurposing waste products can be a good thing ecologically, aniline dyes still had significant drawbacks in terms of environmental impacts. The type of dye, as well as the process used, can yield vastly different mixtures and quantities, at various degrees of toxicity. As reported in a 1930s publication on textile pollution: “Textile waste liquors range from almost harmless to very toxic and putrescible mixtures.”89 Although dye waste can be a highly visible effluent in lakes, oceans, and rivers, what is unseen can be equally, if not more, harmful. As scholar Anthony S. Travis noted in his study of dye pollution in Basel, Switzerland, during the 1860s: “Compared with eyesores such as stagnant or dye-coloured streams and clouds of choking gas in industrial districts, subsurface water was certainly out of sight if not completely out of mind.”90 Drawing from Swiss archival documents, Travis explored the link between a dye plant, J. J. Müller-Pack and Company, and soil and groundwater contamination with toxins, including arsenic, from the dye-making process.91 Poisoned well water extended the risks of aniline dye production from the workers in the plant to the surrounding environment and those who called it home.92 Rachel Carson explained why groundwater pollution was so worrisome: virtually “all the running water of the earth’s surface was at one time groundwater . . . so, in a very real and frightening sense, pollution of the groundwater is pollution of water everywhere.”93 The events described in Basel played out shortly after the first aniline dyes were discovered and had begun to be industrially manufactured, providing evidence that the danger of dumping dye effluent into water sources was evident early on. In fairness, wastewater from dyes is a troublesome predicament to address and always has been. A 1930s study conducted by the Textile Foundation, Inc. in Washington, DC, noted: “The textile waste treatment problem is more complex than many other industrial waste purification problems because of the fact that no two textile wastes are alike in character, nor can any two wastes be purified by exactly the same treatment.”94 Not only that, “the waste . . . continually changes with the introduction of new processes or the change in market demands,”95 hinting at the historical precedent of a problem that has since only grown with the increased speed of the fashion cycle. In a 1969 publication on the modern factory, George M. Price reasoned as to why dye and other industrial wastes so frequently ended up in the earth’s waterways: it was the practice that caused the manufacturer the least expense.96 Although the primary target of her consternation was chemical pesticides, Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring issued a caution about how we treat our earth, its waterways, and the damage that repeated and prolonged chemical exposure can wreak on animals and humans alike. “In this now universal contamination of the environment, chemicals are the sinister and little recognized partner of radiation in changing the very nature of the world—the very nature of its life,” she wrote.98 Yet as we have seen, even prior to the pesticides that so concerned Carson, we were polluting our water with a multitude of chemicals, visible and otherwise, generated in the production of clothing and textiles.​

25

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

Figure 1.12 The patterning on this day dress, created by designer Sophie, was achieved through discharge printing: the dress was first dyed and then selectively treated with a bleaching agent to create the floral design. This process, with the dye baths and chemicals it requires, is especially environmentally harmful.97 Sophie, dress and sweater set, black silk twill with discharge floral print, cashmere, c. 1950, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 75.77.1. Gift of Mrs. Herbert Berg and Mr. Leon Berg.

Inspiration for Change Having considered the historical evolution of textile production and fabric dyeing and the environmental impacts of these processes, we can now move on to examine the emergence of strategies to address these impacts. While efforts to deal with the toxic effects of chemical dyes can be traced back well over a century, the development of broader initiatives to select “better” materials in response to environmental concerns is much more recent.

Organic Cotton The grave concerns about the environmental impacts of cotton production led to the development of one of sustainable fashion’s most recognized fibers: organic cotton. The fiber was first grown in the United States and Turkey in the late 1980s, followed by Egypt, Uganda, India, and Peru.99 It began to be marketed in the following decade, in correspondence to other “eco-friendly” fashion trends, such as recycled clothing. Organic cotton was not an immediate success—due in large part to its relatively high cost—but it has now become a popular choice of material for sustainable fashion. For some companies, offering clothing with an organic 26

Materials and Processes

label is a relatively easy way to assert themselves as “eco-friendly” (a concept that is sometimes referred to as greenwashing). For others, the selection of sustainable fabric is just one of a number of conscientious designs and business practices. Various characteristics of organic cotton have placed it at the forefront of sustainable fabrics. First and foremost, organic cotton is highly saleable: physical differences between organically grown and traditionally grown cotton are scarcely perceived, meaning that organic cotton has found easy acceptance among designers and wearers. Furthermore, its impact on the environment is much less than that of traditional cotton, as organic cotton farming prohibits the use of chemical pesticides and fertilizers. Natural enemies are introduced to crops to rid them of unwanted pests instead. To counteract the depletion of soil nutrients, organic farmers rely on crop rotation, which helps to enrich the soil.100 Farmers who grow organic cotton also receive higher incomes—reportedly as much as 50 percent more than that of their peers who farm nonorganically.101 In spite of the many positive attributes of organic cotton, it is not a “perfect” fiber choice. Although the production of cotton requires relatively little energy, all cotton—whether conventionally grown or organic—requires cleaning. The cleaning process involves desizing, scouring, and bleaching, using chemicals that are usually toxic. The fiber is limited in quantity, due in part to the way in which it is grown—yields of organic cotton tend to be 20–50 percent lower than those of their pesticide-enhanced counterparts102, and the fiber made up less than 1 percent of the overall amount of cotton grown in 2019.103 While organic cotton is often lauded as an ideal sustainable choice, its current output simply cannot meet demand. In addition, the fiber’s designation as organic often ends at harvest, without accounting for further stages of its life cycle—many of which are not sustainable.104 Nevertheless, organic cotton production is in many ways being viewed as a model—or perhaps more aptly, an experiment— of a “regenerative” approach to fiber production, which can improve the health of the agricultural ecosystem.105 Organic cotton has been a well-known commodity in the apparel market for a number of years: huge companies such as Nike, Wal-Mart, and Woolworths have all become known for their usage of fiber. In addition, a number of high-fashion designers have helped to popularize the use of organic cotton by including it in their collections. John Patrick—who had years of experience working in the conventional fashion industry—began making his name as a sustainable fashion designer in 2003, when a friend writing for Organic Style Magazine asked him to make something to feature in one of her articles. The resulting design was an apron made from organic cotton canvas, and it received an outpouring of interest. It was at that point that the designer realized he could “incorporate a lot of things that didn’t fit into fashion and design, make them, tell a story, and do the right thing.”106 Although Patrick takes an ethical approach to design overall (also working with collectives, for example), the selection of sustainable materials is especially crucial to his work. His interest in organic cotton, in particular, led him to Peru, where he learned firsthand how the fiber was planted and grown.107​ Alongside organic cotton, there are other types of cotton to be considered that each has both positive and negative attributes. Naturally colored cotton, for example, is cultivated to eliminate the need for bleaching and dyeing the fiber and can be grown in shades of brown, green, and red. Color-grown cotton was commonly grown prior to the industrial era; its rediscovery in recent decades has been led by farmer Sally Fox.108 Over the past two decades, genetically modified cotton has been developed with the aim of reducing the need for pesticides and has been in use in large cotton-producing countries including Australia, China, and the United States. The Fairtrade standard for seed cotton, which assures that workers at the very beginning of the production chain are paid fairly for their labor, was established in 2004.110 In 2018–19, 65 percent of all Fairtrade cotton was also certified as organic.111 27

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

Figure 1.13  This Organic by John Patrick dress was fashioned from organic cotton shirting fabric in pale blue and white stripes. Patrick worked with the Peruvian textiles company Creditex, which is dedicated to ethical practices, for a year to have the fabric manufactured to his specifications.109 The fabric used for the white blouse is manufactured by Avanti, a Japanese company that began working with organic cotton in 1990. Installation shot from Eco-Fashion: Going Green (The Museum at FIT, 2010). Organic by John Patrick, shirt and jumper, white Japanese organic cotton mesh, light blue and white organic cotton shirting, Spring 2009, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 2010.43.1. Gift of John Patrick.

The Resurgence of Wool In correspondence to the rise of the sustainable fashion movement, wool is being reevaluated for its potential viability as an eco-friendly fiber. Wool is naturally occurring, renewable, and taken from an animal that can thrive on land unsuited to farming—thus leaving arable soil elsewhere for vegetable, fruit, and grain crops. In addition, it is reported that sheep help to fertilize the soil they graze upon.112 More specifically, studies by the Australian-based Wool Carbon Alliance have found that “wool fiber production systems, based on renewable grass and natural vegetation, complement current demands to reduce carbon emissions.”113 Wool is also fully biodegradable.114 Much like cotton production, pesticides came to be used for wool over the course of the twentieth century— albeit in significantly smaller quantities. The sheep can be dipped in pesticide baths, or they may be injected with pesticides to deter parasites. These pesticides can be hazardous to farmers’ health and can also pollute water supplies.115 The practice of “mulesing”—the removal of wool-bearing skin from the tail and breech area of some breeds of sheep—is a contentious ethical issue. Although mulesing is carried out to prevent flystrike infection by blowfly larvae, which is fatal if untreated, it is a painful procedure that affects the animals’ welfare. Campaigners have called for mulesing to be banned and for farmers to focus on breeding flystrike-resistant sheep.116 28

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Figure 1.14  Danish luxury label Noir, founded in 2005 by Peter Ingwersen, was notable for its use of organic materials. From 2009 its fabrics were produced by a sister organic and fair trade cotton brand, Illuminati II, based in Uganda. This evening dress exemplifies the label’s goal to fuse sexy, cutting-edge design with sustainable materials and corporate social responsibility. Noir (Peter Ingwersen), evening dress, black Illuminati II cotton, silver-studded leather, Fall 2010, Denmark. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 2010.11.1. Gift of NOIR.

Another environmental issue associated with wool production is the need for raw wool to be scoured, a task that removes dirt and the natural grease that the sheep deposit in their wool. While the grease by-product is often refined and used as lanolin for cosmetics and soaps, it frequently contains residual pesticides.117 Finally, the total life cycle of wool must be considered—it is typically a material that cannot be easily laundered, and garments are thus often labeled as dry-clean-only, a process with its own environmental repercussions.118 The introduction of organic wool, which does not use pesticides or mulesing, has provided a new sustainable fiber option in recent years. Its production is carefully monitored for nontoxic and compassionate cultivation.119 Stella McCartney has used organic wool, including some from sheep raised at her own farm in the Cotswolds, England, to create her designs.120 The use of organic wool by this high-profile designer has helped the fiber to gain recognition, but production of organic wool is still extremely limited. In 2019, less than 1 percent of the wool produced globally was organic.121 Other wool certification initiatives, such as the Responsible Wool Standard, focus on animal welfare and the protection of grazing land.122 Hemp and Flax The use of hemp fiber dates back at least 6,000 years. Alongside flax, hemp prevailed over fiber production in Asia, Europe, and North America during the eighteenth century.123 As cotton eventually proved cheaper and easier to harvest, however, hemp slowly began to lose its dominance. The fiber’s decline was aggravated by 29

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

its prohibition in the United States and Western Europe (excluding France) around the Second World War, for its association with marijuana.124 Hemp’s lack of popularity has been due in large part to that association, despite the fact that the industrial hemp plant is grown solely for its fiber. It contains only a trace amount of the psychoactive constituent tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) and therefore has no narcotic properties. Even today, the differences between the types of the hemp plants are often unclear to consumers. Hemp offers a multitude of ecological advantages. It grows extremely quickly and is naturally resistant to harmful insects and weeds, thus eliminating the need for pesticides.125 The hemp crop is therefore an ideal choice for land that is in transition to certified organic status (a process that requires three years of plant growth without pesticides).126 Hemp plants are also carbon-negative, removing five times more carbon dioxide from the atmosphere than trees.127 Throughout much of its history, the typically coarse hemp fiber was best suited for use in industrial textile products, such as ropes and sail fabric. In the 1980s, however, the development of a new processing technique allowed for finer yarns,128 and hemp became better suited for use in apparel fabric. The cloth has a silky texture that is more porous than cotton, takes well to dyes, and is durable. Flax (used to make linen fabric) was one of the first crops to be domesticated and has been used for textiles for thousands of years.129 Its long, straight, smooth fibers produce fabrics with many positive characteristics: linen is absorbent, quick-drying, and takes up color easily. As mentioned earlier, flax was widely produced during the eighteenth century. It was used for clothing and various other purposes, including household textiles, sails, and sewing thread. Ireland was the leading producer of flax in Europe until the late nineteenth century, while the crop spread to North America via European immigrants. Commercial production in North America grew steadily but the expansion of cotton production led to its decline, and by the Second World War production had virtually ceased in the United States.130 Today, about 80 percent of flax used for fibers is grown in Europe.131 There has recently been a resurgence of interest in flax production in the United States and the United Kingdom, driven by an appreciation of the fiber’s environmental credentials. Although conventional production uses agricultural chemicals, flax can be grown without fertilizers and does not require extensive irrigation.132 Furthermore, both flax and hemp are reported to improve the structure of the soil in which they are grown, and can thrive on land that has been polluted with heavy metals.133 Processing does present some problems: the harvesting of both fibers requires costly and time-consuming hand labor, while the customary method of extracting the fiber from the stalks (known as retting) pollutes the water supply. Alternative methods avoid this problem, including a recently developed enzyme-based process, CRAiLAR, which produces linen and hemp fabrics with a softer handle that are intended to compete with cotton.134 Despite the great potential of hemp and linen, they remain niche options, jointly accounting for less than 1 percent of global fiber production.135

Lyocell and Bamboo Lyocell (also known by its brand name, Tencel) has made a significant impact on the traditional rayon fibers market in recent years. Courtaulds Fibres, the creator of Tencel, began developing the fiber as part of its “Genesis” research project, an initiative aimed at creating a product that could compete with both the cost and physical characteristics of rayon, but that was also ecologically sustainable.136 Lyocell was first made commercially available in the late 1980s; by 1993, it was already being used for clothing by Calvin Klein, Girbaud, and Esprit, among other labels.137 The fiber is soft to the touch, more absorbent than cotton, and can be easily blended with other materials for even higher performance characteristics.138 It is also fully compostable and biodegradable.139 30

Materials and Processes

Like rayon, lyocell is a regenerated cellulosic fiber; it is derived from easily grown woods such as eucalyptus and beech.140 Unlike other cellulose-based fibers, however, lyocell utilizes a closed-loop manufacturing process, meaning that more than 99 percent of the nontoxic chemical solvent used for the fiber’s production is reclaimed and used again.141 The fiber is not without negative impacts: Susanne Sweet, research manager for the Sweden-based Mistra Future Fashion program, highlights the energy used in the production process.142 Lyocell manufacturer Lenzing claims that it has “constantly refined the lyocell production process over the years, and steadily reduced energy consumption on the basis of continuous optimization.”143​ In recent years, textiles made from a “new” natural fiber, bamboo, have entered the marketplace. Upon its introduction, bamboo was touted as a valuable fiber within the sustainable fashion market because the bamboo plant grows quickly—much more quickly than cotton—and reaches its full height in just three months.144 It requires little or no irrigation, pesticides, or fertilizers, and its roots can protect against erosion.145 Yet the use of bamboo fabric has become a point of contention within the sustainable fashion community. As Todd Copeland, strategic environmental materials developer at Patagonia, has pointed out, “Most bamboo fabric has a smooth hand that feels like rayon—because that’s essentially what it is.”146 Although the fiber itself is a natural, quickly regenerated material, its method of production is, indeed, commonly adapted from that used for rayon, which is especially polluting, chemical-laden, and energyintensive.

Figure 1.15  Sarah Ratty’s elegant Grecian Drape Nymph dress, created for the designer’s UK-based sustainable fashion label, Ciel, is made from lyocell jersey in dove grey and metallic silver. The fabric drapes beautifully, and it is cool and silky to the touch. Ratty was a pioneer of the sustainable fashion industry (she started her first label, Conscious Earthwear, in the early 1990s), and she has based much of her work on the selection of high-quality fabrics with positive sustainability credentials. Installation shot from EcoFashion: Going Green (The Museum at FIT, 2010). Ciel (Sarah Ratty), dress, grey and silver metallic printed lyocell, 2010, England. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 2010.47.1. Gift of Ciel. 31

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

Figure 1.16  This printed mini dress by FIN, made from bamboo satin, demonstrates the aesthetic qualities that have rendered the bamboo fiber a fashionable choice. Bamboo’s capacity for drape is highlighted in the fitted, knee-length skirt, constructed from soft, irregular folds of fabric. However, while bamboo is commonly marketed as a sustainable fiber, its production is similar to that of rayon: polluting, chemical-laden, and energy-intensive. FIN (Per Åge Sivertsen), dress, blue organic bamboo satin, Fall 2010, Norway. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 2010.3.2. Gift of Per Sivertsen of FIN.

Furthermore, although bamboo grows well and quickly on its own, there is evidence that some farmers still choose to use chemical pesticides to further enhance its growth. This is especially true in China, where bamboo is grown on a commercial scale—and where there is a lack of environmental regulation overall. Increased demand for bamboo has also led to deforestation in China, in order to provide more land for bamboo plants.147​ Lower Impact Dyes During the environmentalist boom of the 1970s,148 the United States Environmental Protection Agency recognized the severity of the problem of textile dye wastes ending up in the earth’s waterways, and in the proceeding decades collaborated with the industry to establish standards for waste disposal.149 Many other countries have also enacted regulatory measures and built filtration systems that limit chemicals and other materials in the effluent they release. Yet much of our clothing is now sewn, processed, and dyed in countries where regulations may be insufficient and enforcement lax. Ensuring proper filtration and disposal can be an added expense for textile producers, meaning the cheap and easy solution is still prevalent in many countries. Thus, as the environmental group Greenpeace points out, waterways remain “a convenient dumping ground for all types of wastes.”150 As with transferring production to new locations for lower labor 32

Materials and Processes

costs, there is the temptation for unethical manufacturers to target those areas where “environmental control is less stringent.”151 The quest for lower impact, more sustainable dyeing processes has generated enormous creativity and experimentation. Sustainable production in the context of textile dyeing today means striving to minimize pollution, waste, and water use over the course of the dye production, application, and finishing processes. It can mean critiquing how we produce, diligently monitoring effluent, and finding better alternatives—an idea that has attracted scientists, designers, and environmentalists alike. Greenpeace, for example, advocates what they call the “the principle of substitution” where “hazardous chemicals are progressively replaced with safer alternatives.”152 Better oversight and management of the dyeing process is one method of limiting dye waste materials. J. R. Easton, of DyStar, believes that mistakes in production can be costly not just for the environment, but also for a company’s bottom line.153 The single “most effective pollution prevention practice for textile wet processing is ‘right-first-time’ dyeing,” comments Easton.154 As opposed to dealing with the end-stage waste, it is far better to prevent it outright.155 Filtering after the fact is “complicated, uneconomical, and time consuming,” agrees J. N. Chakraborty.156 Pollution “is a sign of inefficiency in industrial production.”157 Recovery and reuse of waste (sending it back into the production cycle, as opposed to out of an effluent pipe) is prized and promoted, and most agree that it should be done whenever possible. “Closing the loop,” as modern terminology would dub it, was the advice of scientists in the late 1930s, who concluded that, “in many instances waste liquors from one operation might be used to make up the bath in another.”158 The same recommendations are found in scholarly texts and practical guidelines today.159 Kate Fletcher has observed that certain circumstances make this more probable: “The likelihood of dye liquor reuse is increased especially when dyeing is limited to a few shades . . . where given the right conditions a dye liquor could be used up to ten times before the level of impurities limits further use.”160 Many dyes are used to apply printed patterns to fabrics, rather than create a solid color. Discharge printing can be particularly harmful; as textiles scholar Keith Slater has noted, this process “combines the worst aspects of printing and dyeing.”161 Heat-transfer printing, a technique that has existed since the end of the 1920s, presents an interesting alternative for creating attractive patterns on garments.162 It does not require the preparation of dye baths, and instead, as the name explains, transfers dye via heat to the fabric. This method, using disperse dyes, removes one of the primary effluent concerns, water. Yet the technique’s ecological benefits and impact are debated. While it requires little water, heat transfer can generate waste in the form of a transfer medium, paper. Furthermore, many garments that are dyed or printed in this manner are made of polyester, as it is the fiber most receptive to heat-transfer printing163—but polyester, as discussed earlier in the chapter, is surrounded by its own ecological debate. Natural Dyes Chemical dyes largely displaced the use of natural dyes, which in many parts of the world had an age-old history, and in doing so, also disrupted the industries and livelihoods of the people who grew dye-producing plants. There are advocates of natural dyes, who support the embracing of tradition and the resurgence of dyes and methods that predate the Industrial Revolution. These advocates make an argument that is, in fact, anything but new. Anti-industrialist and leader of the Arts & Crafts movement, William Morris, asserted the same view and put the idea into practice not long after synthetic dyes first rose to prominence in the late nineteenth century.164 Similarly, clothing and textile designer Mariano Fortuny was disinclined to follow trends of mass production. To create the beautiful hues of his clothing and textiles, he preferred to source his own natural dyestuffs, rather than use aniline dyes.165 Less well-known figures have also given thought 33

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

to natural dyes in the past. In 1917 the New York Times praised New York woman Edith O’Neil MacDonald for her ingenuity in developing a natural dye using the leaves fallen from hard-wood trees around her home in the Adirondacks, an idea inspired by the imprints of leaves left on sidewalks. Wartime had affected the supply of German-made synthetic dyes, making her discovery timely, but MacDonald thought about the bigger picture.166 Her patent for the dye emphasized its ecological benefits—as a resource it was renewable and the nontoxic by-products could be recycled into fertilizer.167 Although these examples provide important historical context for modern solutions, we should be wary of viewing natural dyes as a panacea. Natural dyeing, like that practiced by Morris and many others before him, has the capacity to pollute, and adversely affect our planet, just like any other dyeing process, especially when done industrially. Those attracted to natural dyeing often overlook the need for mordants to affix the dyes to fabric, which can be dangerous to work with. India Flint commented that Morris, despite his good intentions with natural dyes, “did not consider the environmental consequences of large-scale dyeing and the effects on local waterways.”168

Thinking Critically Without knowledge of how different fabrics are produced—or how they will decompose—it is easy to assume that fabrics made from natural fibers are “good,” while those made from synthetic materials are “bad.” In reality, weighing up the attributes of different fibers is much more complex. The proliferation of accreditation and labeling schemes in recent years provides some guidance, but the distinctions between them can be difficult to navigate. While indexes promise an objective scientific assessment of the impacts of various fibers, their methodologies and findings have been challenged for a lack of transparency and for considering only the impacts of production, rather than the whole lifecycle.169 As Kate Fletcher notes, “we have to be aware about the impacts of our fibre choices on the ecological, economic, and social systems of which these materials are a part—and more tangibly on whole interrelated product lifecycles, which include cultivation, production, manufacturing, distribution, consumer laundering, reuse, and final disposal.”170 It is exciting to see the development of diverse innovations in the production of textile fibers that aim to address long-standing environmental challenges. Yet some problems persist: for example, there is, unfortunately, no one-size-fits-all solution to the problems presented by the dyeing of textiles and clothing and any given choice may present a trade-off environmentally. While some feel that natural dyeing traditions offer a way to move forward, there are real obstacles in the broad implementation of these processes, which may also carry their own impacts in terms of energy and water use. Furthermore, although progress toward more sustainable materials is to be welcomed, we must be wary of overly simplistic solutions and unintended consequences. For example, Fibershed—an organization that supports the development of regional fiber systems—has raised concerns about newly developed “biosynthetic” fibers in terms of the sustainability of the feedstocks required, waste generated through production, and the ability of these novel materials to decompose.171 Taking a step back, it is important to acknowledge that a focus on materials alone will never be sufficient to render fashion sustainable. Some companies perceive the use of “better” materials as a “quick fix”172—a relatively simple way to appear more eco-friendly, without necessarily incorporating more sustainable or ethical practices into their business operations as a whole. This concept can be traced back to at least the 1980s when a number of fashion labels adopted what was referred to as the “ecology look,” a style that expressed its concern for the environment through eco-centric graphics and prints, as well as through fabrics that had the appearance of being “natural” or “unprocessed.” While such clothing made a statement—particularly 34

Materials and Processes

as a reaction against heightened consumerism—it did little to solve the long-term environmental problems brought on by the fashion industry.173 The same token gestures can be observed in brands’ actions today. As former Esprit ecollection designer Lynda Grose explains, “sustainability is not about ‘organic,’ it’s not about ‘recycled’ and it’s not about ‘low impact’ . . . . All of these are just tools for unfreezing cultural and social norms. And if that unfreezing isn’t happening, then we are using the wrong tools or we are on the wrong track.”174 A focus on materials alone is short-sighted because it does not address the rising volumes of garments being produced. In a 2007 editorial, Textile Outlook International reported that “Between 1900 and 1950 total fibre production grew almost three times as fast as the world population. And between 1950 and 2006 it grew almost four times as fast.”175 A 2020 report by Textile Exchange reveals that fiber production has doubled in the past twenty years and is forecast to grow by another 30 percent in the next decade.176 Incremental improvements in terms of environmental impacts—lessening the water consumed in the production of a particular fiber, say, or reducing the amounts of toxic effluent generated by a dyeing process—are swallowed up by these increases in volume. While the impact per garment reduces, the impact of the overall system increases. We must address the issue of overconsumption, which is driven by the industry’s ethos of growth, if we are to transition to a more sustainable fashion system.

Further Reading For a deeper dive into the history of specific fibers, look for books such as Fake Silk: The Lethal History of Viscose Rayon by Paul David Blanc (Yale University Press, 2016). World Textiles: A Concise History by Mary Schoeser (Thames & Hudson, 2003) offers a global view and extends the historical scope from prehistory to the end of the twentieth century. Another approach is to go straight to the original historical sources referenced in this chapter, such as William Henry Perkin’s 1869 lecture “The Aniline or Coal Tar Colours,” which is available online.177 For information on the sustainability—or otherwise—of materials and processes today, Kate Fletcher’s Sustainable Fashion and Textiles: Design Journeys (2nd edition, Routledge, 2014) provides an excellent overview. Sources focusing on the bigger picture of specific fibers, such as Local, Slow and Sustainable Fashion: Wool as a Fabric for Change edited by Ingun Grimstad Klepp and Tone Skårdal Tobiasson (Palgrave Macmillan, 2022), offer further insights. Cotton: A Case Study in Misinformation by Transformers Foundation (2021) not only examines the impacts of cotton in detail but also highlights the many dubious statistics that circulate in the sustainable fashion field: https://www​.tra​nsfo​rmer​sfou​ndation​.org​/cotton​-report​-2021.

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C hapter 2 DESIGN AND MANUFACTURE

While material choices are undoubtedly important, sustainability in fashion involves numerous other considerations—including how we design and make our clothes. Much contemporary clothing, and particularly fast fashion, is designed for a short life, with styles intended to go out of fashion quickly and garments not made to last. It is certainly the case that clothes are sold and discarded at an increasingly fast pace across the world, especially in rich countries and emerging economies. The average consumer bought 60 percent more clothing in 2014 than in 2000 but kept each item for only half as long.1 Sustainable design strategies focusing on design and manufacture aim to tackle the waste generated by this system, shaping both the garments themselves and the ways in which we value and use our clothes.​ A common approach to sustainability, which addresses the short period of time for which many garments are used, is slow fashion. Modeled after Carol Petrini’s concept of slow food, the slow fashion model focuses on transparent production models with “less intermediation between producer and consumer,” the use of local resources and economies, and the production of goods with greater value and longer lives.2 Slow fashion design strategies might focus on material factors, such as the quality and durability of fabric and construction, as well as the many intangible factors that affect “emotional durability.”3 One focus for designers is how a garment will age over time. The knitted textiles created by Lynda Grose shown in Figure 2.2 explore this concern. Grose investigates the idea that garments can be designed to trigger a sense of delight in the wearer multiple times over a product’s life span as an alternative way of satisfying the desire for newness. Further strategies for longevity are outlined in Clothing Durability Dozen, published by Tim Cooper and colleagues in 2019.4 There are many alternative design strategies that aim to maximize the use of clothing items. Some designers create transformable or multifunctional items that can be worn in multiple ways. The Puzzleware range by Maija Nygren, shown in Figure 2.3, demonstrates a playful approach to transformable garments, targeted at children. The DIY kits contain woolen panels that a child can stitch together to create unique garments; the panels can be separated and endlessly reconfigured. Design and making strategies can also be employed to target particular aspects of production or disposal, such as zero-waste pattern cutting and design for disassembly. Such methods often require the designer to challenge conventions of garment construction and think inventively about alternatives, as represented by the ground-breaking work of Holly McQuillan shown in Figure 2.4. This chapter examines changes in the ways that textiles and clothing have been designed, made, and valued from the eighteenth century to the present. The first section focuses on the rapid developments in the manufacture of clothing that unfolded from the late eighteenth century onward and enabled the emergence of the ready-to-wear industry. Shifts in the value of clothing during this process are noted, with a notable landmark being the fad for disposable paper clothing in the 1960s. The second section considers historical strategies that have sought to embed value in clothing, whether via quality of manufacture, artisanal slow fashion techniques, or ingenious design strategies that maximize an item’s usefulness and minimize waste.

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

Figure 2.1  Overproduction in the global North is reflected in the huge volumes of clothes processed at Kantamanto Market, the largest used clothing market in Ghana. Bales of used and unsold new clothing, shipped mostly from America and Europe, are unpacked and sold by a complex ecosystem of independent traders. Shockingly, the massive amounts of clothing sent to Kantamanto and the poor condition of many items mean that 40 percent of the garments arriving there, at least 1 million pounds of clothing every week, are taken to landfills and informal dumpsites surrounding the city.5 This dumpsite in Old Fadama is over 30 feet tall and is thought to be around 60 percent clothing waste.6 The Or Foundation argues that “the Global North is relying on Ghana (and other nations) to take part in a waste management strategy necessitated by relentless overproduction and overconsumption” and highlights the colonial power dynamic that is reinforced by this trade.

How Did We Get Here? The fashion industry has undergone a metamorphosis over the past 300 years—and it continues to evolve rapidly. The fast-fashion phenomenon, which is often blamed for today’s overabundance of cheap, seemingly valueless clothing, truly took off in the late twentieth century, but its roots go back much further. Many historians believe that the Industrial Revolution was, in fact, principally generated by the demand for more textiles.

Clothing Production before Mechanization When we consider how fabrics and clothing were produced prior to mechanization, it becomes apparent that drastic changes in the fashion industry have actually occurred quite rapidly. Before the nineteenth century, every process necessary to the manufacture of clothing—from spinning yarn, to weaving fabric, to sewing elaborate gowns—was done by hand. Many processes involved the skills of multiple, specialized workers. The tremendous amount of time and labor required to produce clothing accounted for its high cost: in most 38

Design and Manufacture

Figure 2.2  These swatches by designer Lynda Grose use a variety of techniques to embed invisible structures into knitted fabric, to be revealed when the fabrics are over-dyed. A garment made using these fabrics could be worn for a period of time and then dyed, as a form of planned renewal: the patterns that emerge through the over-dyeing distract the eye in a completely different way. To create the swatches Grose used undyed cationic and non-cationic Cleaner Cotton™ yarns and one dyed cotton yarn for the visually dominant pattern. Cationic cotton is chemically modified to possess a positive charge, making it more receptive to dyes.

Figure 2.3  Maija Nygren’s Puzzleware is a range of modular DIY kits that enable children to sew their own clothes. Each kit contains woolen panels knitted in a variety of shapes with integrated stitching holes, a blunt wooden needle, and yarn. Punched cards to teach children basic stitches are also included. The Puzzleware system is not only playful but also repairable and extendable. If a child outgrows their item or becomes bored with it, they can remove the stitching and create a new design.

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Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

Figure 2.4  Designer and researcher Holly McQuillan has been influential in the development of zero-waste fashion design for over fifteen years. Her PhD explored zero-waste systems thinking through the design and production of innovative textile forms. The research presented a range of hybrid analog-digital experiments which explored the possibilities for multimorphic textile design using whole garment weaving. These digital images were created using CLO, a piece of software that enables the virtual visualization of garment designs. By working in this way, McQuillan is able to explore interactions between layers of soft material that start as flat rectangular shapes and gradually morph into threedimensional forms.

eighteenth-century households, expenditure on clothing was second only to food.7 As a result, the average person owned far fewer clothes than most of us today. Clothing and textiles were cared for, reused, and used up, rather than simply discarded. As we will discuss in Chapter 3, garments were often altered to maintain their value over a long period of time. A few period sources provide intriguing glimpses into the workings of the eighteenth-century fashion and textile industries. For instance, a set of plates that was originally part of L’Encyclopédie, ou Dictionnaire Raisonné des Sciences, des Arts et des Métiers,8 written from approximately 1750 to 1771, illustrates several day-to-day operations related to weaving, dyeing, and the sale of clothing during the eighteenth century. The Encyclopédie was designed to give readers a summary of world knowledge. It focused especially on the operations necessary to all types of manufacturing processes in eighteenth-century France, from the construction of bridges to silk weaving. Some of the most illustrative plates from the series are those that show weaving in progress, such as that shown in Figure 2.5.​ Many eighteenth-century textiles are still admired for their beauty and longevity. Yet research has shown that in England, at least, fabrics became lighter and less durable over the course of the century, requiring them 40

Design and Manufacture

Figure 2.5  Although this plate entitled “Tapisserie de Haute-Lisse des Gobelins”9 features a loom used in the Gobelins tapestry manufactory, the process for weaving dress silks was similar. All looms were operated manually, and they required great skill to master. At least two people were needed to work at each loom and, as the plate shows, several more people were often employed. The spinners, weavers, and “draw boys” (the persons needed to manually operate the looms) in this plate show just a few of the numerous tasks involved in the creation of a length of fabric. Draw looms could not really be considered machines, therefore, but rather served as devices for weaving.10 Denis Diderot, “Tapisserie de Basse-Lisse des Gobelins,” from L’Encyclopédie, ou Dictionnaire Raisonné des Sciences, des Arts et des Métiers, 1769. Collection of The Museum at FIT, P84.15.2c. Museum purchase.

to be replaced more often.11 At any quality level or price point, however, the manufacture of textiles remained a manual process. Draw looms had reached their technical capacity by the late eighteenth century,12 and the sheer difficulty of producing fabric impeded the growth of the textile industry. With fabrics in high demand and short supply, change was imminent. Advancements in Spinning and Weaving Although the nineteenth century is usually considered to be the most critical era to the development of the modern fashion system, the groundwork for technological advancement was laid in the previous century. In 1770, for example, English inventor James Hargreaves patented the spinning jenny—a machine that mechanized the spinning of yarns for weaving. In mid-eighteenth-century England, it was purported that Weavers were unemployed a great part of every day, the time being spent in wandering over the country seeking weft amongst the spinners; whilst the latter, though there was a considerable increase in their numbers, owing to the comparatively large sums they were enabled to earn, scarcely cared to work more than half their time. It was in this state of the trade that Hargreaves’ invention appeared, promising relief from the most pressing difficulty of the trade.13 41

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

Figure 2.6 Silk brocades were particularly difficult and expensive to produce in the eighteenth century, ranking as luxury materials alongside lace, velvet, embroidered fabrics, and gilded textiles.14 This robe à la française15 was made from violet and pink silk brocade with a meandering floral pattern. The gown survives intact and is in excellent condition, yet close examination reveals that it was carefully altered, probably to update its silhouette. This is not surprising, as the pattern of the silk dates to approximately fifteen years earlier than the style of the gown. As discussed in Chapter 3, fabrics and garments were frequently remade or repurposed in the eighteenth century. Robe à la Française, lavender and pink silk brocade, c. 1760, Denmark. Collection of The Museum at FIT, P84.8.1. Museum purchase.

The spinning jenny required just one person to operate, and its actions mimicked those that were performed by hand.16 When those actions were mechanized, they allowed for much faster production of weft yarn, but the spinning jenny was not ideally suited to making warp yarns.17 This created a need for further technological development, such as the spinning mule of the later 1770s. An improvement on the spinning jenny, the spinning mule was itself improved upon in subsequent years, becoming automated and producing stronger yarns. In other words, the wheels of textile invention were fully in motion. As mechanization was clearly vital to the expansion of fabric manufacturing, the textile industry was the first to make the complete transition from hand labor to machine operation. The introduction of the Jacquard loom, which mechanized silk production, was one of the most significant (and controversial) technological developments of the nineteenth century. Joseph Marie Jacquard patented the loom in 1804, and it was widely regarded as the most complicated machine in the world at that time.18 In fact, some historians regard the Jacquard loom as the first “computer.” The operation of the loom is somewhat complex, but its basic operation can be briefly summarized. An automated punched card system continuously feeds information about the next line of weaving to the loom. The resulting patterns range from basic to complex, depending on the number of cards used. A greater number of cards gives more information to the loom, resulting in more 42

Design and Manufacture

intricate weave structures. The patterns woven on Jacquard looms were often as visually compelling as their hand-woven counterparts—and sometimes even more so. Intricately woven fabrics could be produced over twenty-four times faster on the Jacquard loom than on handlooms. A single weaver could operate an entire loom, eliminating the need for assistants. Whereas manual looms could make up to one inch of fabric per day, Jacquard looms could produce an astonishing 2 feet of fabric in the same amount of time.19 In addition to the efficiency of time and labor offered by the Jacquard weaving process, the looms themselves were economical. They were built in such a way that the patterns woven on them could be easily changed, without necessitating that the entire loom be rebuilt.20 In spite of its efficiency, however, the Jacquard loom was not an immediate success. It was, in fact, met with “violent opposition” by weavers who did not understand its workings, and some machines were publicly disassembled by the Conseil des Prudhommes (the Labor Court).21 Eventually, the loom was accepted—and even lauded—as an important French invention. Although the French government attempted to keep all Jacquard looms within France, the looms were gaining popularity in England by the early 1830s, where they were further enhanced by steam power.22 The quickening speed of fabric production was well underway. The Sewing Machine and Ready-made Clothing While the mechanization of fabric production was developing, another vital innovation to the manufacture of clothing was forthcoming: the sewing machine, which forever changed the way clothing was made. Designed by an American named Elias Howe, the first sewing machine was patented in 1846. Early examples were prohibitively expensive, costing nearly US$3,00023—and large factories required up to forty machines to operate.24 Nevertheless, the benefits of the sewing machine were too great to ignore, and sales increased slowly. The rate of machine stitching was approximately seven times faster than that done by hand, and it was also neater and stronger.25 Prices dropped considerably over the next twenty years, as the sewing machine gained prominence. By 1866, the average cost of a machine was US$60, and there were purportedly 750,000 sewing machines in the United States alone.26 The introduction of the sewing machine (and its subsequent variations by other entrepreneurs, such as Isaac Singer) offered a substantial boost to the American economy. The sewing machine also helped to cement the role of the United States as an industrial nation.27 Ideas to improve upon the original invention were enacted almost immediately after its introduction. A booklet published in 1867, entitled History of the Sewing Machine, mentioned that “by means of the various improvements and attachments, the sewing machine now performs nearly all the needle ever did. It seams, hems, tucks, binds, stitches, quilts, gathers, fells, braids, embroiders, and makes buttonholes. It is used in the manufacture of every garment worn by man, woman, or child.”28 While “every garment” was surely an overstatement, the sewing machine did enable enormous change to take place in the ready-made garment industry. In 1860, for instance, a shirt manufacturer based in New Haven, Connecticut reported that his factory made 800 shirts per week, using 400 sewing machines and operators. The work produced was the equivalent of that done by 2,000 hand sewers. As a result, labor costs were reduced from US$6,000 per week to $1,600 per week.29 This data clearly shows that the large-scale production of clothing at a drastically reduced price point was becoming increasingly feasible. In relation to sustainability, the rise of ready-made fashion is considered a key progenitor of problems within the industry—including excessive waste, pollution, and poor labor conditions. Numerous scholarly studies have outlined the history of ready-to-wear, and it is largely discussed as a mid-nineteenth-century phenomenon. While it is true that ready-to-wear became more prevalent at that time, the advent of readymade clothing in parts of Europe actually took place much earlier. London’s East India Company, for example, offered mass-produced garments by the late seventeenth century, and tailoring and dressmaking shops also sold a selection of ready-made clothes (although these were typically of a simple nature).30 In the United 43

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

States, ready-made clothing was first available for men. While its growth was generated at least in part by the need for Civil War uniforms, it appears that demand for standardized work wear instigated the production of men’s ready-to-wear prior to the 1860s.31 Ready-made clothing for women became more widespread as the nineteenth century progressed, but the selection of garments was generally more limited than that which was available for men. This was due in part to the precise fit necessary for many items of women’s clothing, in addition to the fact that dressmakers were both prevalent and relatively inexpensive. If a woman could not afford a dressmaker, she typically sewed her own clothing at home—perhaps purchasing ready-made garments only for the men in her family.32 Furthermore, as a general rule, factory-made clothing was believed to be poorly constructed and quick to deteriorate.33 But the convenience of ready-made clothing could not be ignored. Its “democratic” nature allowed many people of lesser means to more easily keep up with fashion for the first time, even if their garments were not especially well made. The sewing machine also played a role in boosting the popularity of certain ready-made items for women, such as wraps, cloaks, and crinolines. For example, the cage crinoline—an essential undergarment during the 1860s—was much easier to sew by machine than by hand, and machine production also helped to substantially lower its price.34 At the end of the nineteenth century, the shirtwaist blouse became the first widely mass-produced garment for women. The shirtwaist was considered a “separate,” meaning it could be easily mixed and matched with other items in a woman’s wardrobe. The simplest styles were worn with tailored suits or paired with skirts for at-home wear or sportswear. Dressier options—those made from better fabrics and trimmed with lace, for example—were acceptable for more formal afternoon occasions and eveningwear.35 The relative simplicity and ease of fit of shirtwaists meant that they were simple, and therefore inexpensive, to manufacture—although, as we will discuss in Chapter 4, the low price of these items was also enabled by abuses of workers’ rights. An advertisement for Macy’s department store in New York included an extensive listing of available shirtwaist styles in “all the 1899 styles in the fabrics that wear and wash best . . . Don’t let the little prices scare you. Every garment looks and launders beautifully.”36 Stanley shirtwaists were specifically mentioned and ranged in price from US$0.59 (for a shirtwaist in striped percale) to $1.89 (for a style made from dressier crepe fabric).37​ While many ready-made clothes in Europe still carried an aura of cheapness, American factory production was coming into its own, providing increasingly fashionable, low-priced alternatives to custom-made clothing.38 This allowed Americans to become “the best dressed average people in the world”39 by the turn of the twentieth century. For certain consumers, such as young, unmarried women, there was a certain gratification in purchasing something brand-new and fashionable for themselves.40 It could be argued that this attitude still exists to some extent, particularly as many fast-fashion chains target a youthful clientele. Yet also like today, inexpensive clothing prices were primarily made possible by two main factors: mechanization and poorly paid employees. The end of the nineteenth century also saw the development of several other machines that aided in the production of ready-made clothing. These included the button sewer (1875), a steam-powered cutting machine (developed in the 1870s), and the electric-powered rotary knife (invented in the 1890s). The latter two innovations allowed more than twenty layers of fabric to be cut at a single time.41 It must be noted, however, that most machines used in fashion production—both past and present—still require some degree of human operation. While technology has increased the speed and efficiency of production, therefore, it has not eliminated the need for labor. Choice and Disposability The ready-to-wear clothing industry prospered during the early twentieth century. By 1910, every item in a woman’s wardrobe was available ready-made.42 New and inexpensive man-made fibers, such as rayon (as discussed in Chapter 1), came to be a logical choice for mass-produced fashion. This helped to decrease 44

Design and Manufacture

Figure 2.7  This shirtwaist was made by the New York-based company Stanley. Made of simple cotton, the blouse buttons down the center front, and is tightly pleated under the collar and at the waist to create fullness over the bust. The sleeves are very full and gathered into plain, wide cuffs at the wrist. Stanley, shirtwaist blouse, white cotton, c. 1894, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, P91.33.1. Museum purchase.

clothing prices, while simultaneously increasing the speed of the fashion cycle. By the 1920s ready-to-wear styles were sold in greater quantity than ever before, in part because the simple, tubular silhouette that dominated the era allowed garments to be easily manufactured.43 As a 1924 handbook entitled Principles of Clothing Selection observed, “at present our standard of dress is based upon fashion. Quality and beauty are not important, because fashion changes so rapidly that garments are discarded long before they are worn out.”44 It is therefore evident that concerns over the “disposability” of fashion have existed for decades. Moreover, especially in reaction to a decline in clothing sales during the Great Depression, the concept of separates became more important. Items such as individual skirts, sweaters, and blouses were much less expensive to replace than entire suits or dresses and could be worn in multiple ways to different effects. It was through the purchase of ready-made separates that the average consumer’s wardrobe began to expand.45 Concerns over the abundance of ready-to-wear fashion, particularly in America, were outlined in Vance Packard’s 1960 book The Waste Makers. Packard, a journalist, frequently questioned practices aimed at increasing consumerism, and The Waste Makers focused primarily on planned obsolescence in American manufacturing and marketing. The book covered a range of products, from telephones to automobiles, and specifically mentioned the fashion system. Packard wrote: For centuries women have craved a new dress, and so have become co-conspirators with the dress marketers. When a woman already has a closetful of good-as-new dresses, the best excuse she can offer her husband (who usually considers himself financially hard-pressed) for further splurging is that every dress she owns is out of style. In recent years the dressmakers have stepped up to the pace of style obsolescence, so that by 1960 fashion ran through a full cycle every seven to ten years.46 45

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

Although Packard’s writing may seem somewhat sensationalized (not to mention misogynistic), his observations on the fashion industry summarized the desire for “disposable” fashion that further developed over the course of the 1960s. Often considered the decade that revolutionized the fashion industry, the 1960s fostered a seemingly endless array of new ideas, from teenaged design entrepreneurs to battery-powered, light-up dresses. Rapid change also meant that inexpensive, ready-made clothing became even more important. Whereas 1950s couture garments were defined by their elegance, 1960s clothing had a different focus. “Clothes are just not that important,” asserted Rudi Gernreich in a 1967 interview for Time magazine. “They’re not status symbols any longer. They’re for fun.”47 Gernreich was a top ready-to-wear designer of the era, whose bold styles—including a topless bathing suit—placed him at the forefront of experimental fashion. The most obvious example of the movement toward “fun,” disposable clothing in the 1960s was the trend for so-called paper clothes—items typically made from a variety of nonwoven fibers (rather than actual paper) that were, quite literally, intended to be thrown away after being worn one or two times. The fad began somewhat inadvertently. In 1966, Scott Paper Company offered paper dresses in two different prints— promotional items that were designed to match a new line of disposable tableware. The dresses could be ordered with a mail-in coupon for just US$1.25. Over a period of just a few months, Scott had sold 500,000 copies of the dresses.48 Paper clothing in a variety of styles was a wildly popular—albeit short-lived—phenomenon in the late 1960s, but paper garments were not a new idea. They were, in fact, quite prevalent during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. As few of these items exist today, however, it seems that they have been largely forgotten in the history of fashion. In a master’s thesis on the early history of paper clothing, Jennifer Feingold Kibel found that such items were in production as early as 1718, and that paper was used not because it was inexpensive, but because it was novel.49 It was not until the nineteenth century that items such as bonnets, collars, cuffs, and shirtfronts were made from paper for reasons of economy. Although paper had not dropped in price at that time, traditional cloth goods had become more expensive, making paper a comparatively affordable alternative.50​ In a 1967 article on the paper dress fad, William Guggenheim III, the proprietor of a New York City boutique called Dispensable Disposables, proclaimed, “I believe implicitly that disposables are here to stay.”51 While Guggenheim surely meant that he felt that the fad for paper clothing would last (it did not), traditional clothing was, indeed, increasingly viewed as something of little value. In 1975, the style handbook Cheap Chic lamented: We’ve become spoiled in America. Surrounded by mass manufacturing and mass marketing, we stuff our closets with masses of mistakes. Fashion seduces us from Sears to Sak’s in a dizzying array of styles, prices, fabrics, and colors. We end up with far too many clothes, without stopping to consciously work out our own personal style and gather together the basic elements we need to get it going.52 These comments sound eerily similar to some of the concerns expressed in twenty-first-century publications that examine the overconsumption of fashion. Inspiration for Change Having explored the development of the fashion industry from the Industrial Revolution to the twentieth century and the emergence of the concept of disposable clothing, we will now examine a range of historical examples that have—for a variety of reasons—sought to improve or sustain garment value, quality, and usefulness. 46

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Figure 2.8  While most paper dresses of the 1960s were simply designed, this example proves that, in some cases, ideas of what was considered disposable were quite extraordinary. The dress was made from paper in a swirling “psychedelic” design in shades of yellow, orange, green, and pink. Its very construction marks it as unusual: while most paper dresses were made in a simple shift style, with perhaps some darts over the bust, the full skirt of this example was carefully gathered at the bust and stitched onto a separate bodice. The bodice fastens with a center-back zipper. Likewise, while the hems of most paper dresses were cut straight across, this dress has a “fishtail” hem, beginning at the knee in front and extending almost to the ankle in back. Most notable, however, is the large collar of bright pink ostrich plumes. Once considered as valuable as diamonds (as discussed in Chapter 5), ostrich feathers had come to be used as decoration on a garment intended for quick disposal. Evening dress, multicolor printed paper and pink ostrich feathers, c. 1966, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 91.128.4. Gift of CITICORP.

Wartime Restrictions and Quality The Second World War had a dramatic effect on the production of clothing, with restrictions imposed to conserve material and free up manufacturing capacity for war production. In the UK in 1941 a Clothes Rationing Order was introduced, which aimed to restrict consumption to two-thirds of prewar levels and ensure fair distribution of clothing.53 Oliver Lyttleton, who ran the Board of Trade and devised the rationing system, had noted that supplies of clothing were running short. He argued that unless restrictions were introduced, “some part of the population will have to go short on clothing in the autumn and winter; there will be panic buying and shop queues; prices will rise and the shops will be cleared by the better-to-do, leaving yet smaller supplies for the poor classes. I need not dwell on the social consequences of such a condition of affairs.”54 The rationing scheme used a points-based system, with each type of clothing allocated a number of points according to the amount of material and labor required for its manufacture. Citizens were issued with coupons representing a limited number of points each year and, when shopping, were required to hand 47

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over coupons to the appropriate points value—along with money to pay for the item.55 With supplies of new clothing restricted, people were motivated to make the most of what they had through practices of mending and remaking, and were later explicitly encouraged to do so by the “Make Do and Mend” government campaign (discussed further in Chapter 3). A second major initiative, the Utility clothing scheme, was introduced in Britain in 1942. The scheme sought to manage the clothing trade via minimum standards for fabric quality and requirements for garment design. These requirements limited, for example, the number of pleats in a skirt, the number of buttons on a coat, and even the length of men’s socks.56 Products conforming to the utility regulations were labeled with a “CC41” logo and top couturiers were recruited to produce designs for the mass-produced styles. A similar scheme in the United States, Regulation L-85, likewise restricted fabric usage in clothing, limited color choices, and forbade dramatic changes in style that would drive shifts in fashion.57 Historian Julie Summers argues that the British scheme was effective in driving up standards: “Utility had the effect of replacing poor-quality cloth with better, durable material that was quality-controlled for the first time in its history.”58 She goes on to explain that as a consequence of rationing and the Utility scheme, shoppers “tended to trade up in terms of quality,” seeking the best value per coupon.59 While Paris—long the leader of the fashion industry—was under German occupation, it became especially critical for designers and apparel manufacturers in the United States to assert themselves as an integral part of their nation’s industry. Although popularly priced ready-to-wear had become standard attire for many Americans by the 1940s,60 there was also a market for higher-end fashion, provided by a number of prominent American designers. Hollywood costumier-turned-fashion designer Gilbert Adrian was one of the most famous tastemakers of the Second World War era. Adrian’s fashion label, founded in 1941, was an immediate success. Offering both custom-made and high-end ready-to-wear clothing, he became especially known for his elegant, ingeniously designed suits. The “clothes hanger” shape that Adrian had devised for Joan Crawford, with its padded shoulders, narrow waistline, and slim skirt, had been fashionable for women’s suits in the 1930s— but the style’s austere silhouette and ease of wear also proved ideal for women’s practical wartime fashions. Adrian’s clothing was in great demand and frequently sold out at New York department stores, but his designs were not inexpensive. The lowest priced Adrian Original suit cost about US$50—just slightly above the average price of a wool suit in the 1940s61—but most sold for nearer to $125.62 This underscores that, even in wartime America, some consumers were willing to pay a premium for clothing—and especially for garments lauded for their quality and longevity. As fashion historian Claudia Kidwell stated in a 1978 article on Adrian, “[The suits] were special, which is why so many women bought them to get married in. They were practical yet beautiful.”63 In the same article, a woman recalled that she had purchased an Adrian suit in 1944—and she continued to wear the style thirty-four years later.​ Postwar Couture In spite of the growing market for mass-produced fashion in the mid-twentieth century (or more likely in reaction to it), the years 1947–57 are often viewed as “The Golden Age of Couture.” In order to re-assert its influence following the Second World War, the Parisian couture industry promoted the elegance and luxuriousness of its clothing more than ever before. Although there were numerous prominent couturiers, including Cristobal Balenciaga and Pierre Balmain, it was Christian Dior who dominated. While it is easy to imagine that women cherished their beautiful couture dresses over a long period of time, the 1950s, in particular, was a decade rife with consumerism and change. A meticulously crafted couture dress was made to last, but not all couture clients were content to wear the same dress for years. Dior himself continued to introduce new ideas season after season, and his latest designs were quickly distilled into simpler 48

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Figure 2.9  This ready-to-wear suit by Gilbert Adrian exemplifies the designer’s clever methods of construction. The jacket was made from engineered wool fabric that, at first glance, appears to be several different textiles pieced together. Wide bands of dark grey pinstripes were interspersed with bands of brown and grey houndstooth, as well as thinner stripes in bright blue and red. This striped portion of the fabric was also used to create one of Adrian’s most recognizable design elements: decorative flaps. In this instance, the flaps were placed vertically at the left front waist and on the right sleeve. It is possible that the use of these small scraps of fabric related to wartime clothing restrictions that were instated in the United States just after Adrian started his clothing label. Although this is only speculated, Adrian’s feelings on fabric rationing were documented. Upon presenting his fall/winter 1942 collection, he stated: “We feel privileged at this vital time in world history to present a collection of clothes carefully attuned to Government Order L-85.”64 Adrian, suit, brown, grey, blue, and red wool, c. 1942, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 71.206.1. Gift of Maybell Machris.

versions for the ready-to-wear market. It could also be said that Dior created a “need” for women to replace or drastically update their wardrobes immediately following the Second World War. In 1947, he presented what became known as the “New Look”—characterized by an hourglass silhouette, long, full skirts, and an overall sense of luxurious femininity that is exemplified by the evening dress in Figure 2.10. In other words, the New Look was a direct reaction to the austere styles that women had worn during the war years. A 1948 survey by the Women’s Home Companion questioned its readers on their wardrobes after “the change” (referring to the introduction of Dior’s New Look). Just ten months after the new silhouette was presented, the women surveyed had already purchased an average of three dresses in the latest style, and half had also bought a new suit and coat. Yet the same survey showed that women continued to be resourceful with their clothing as well: nine out of ten readers had altered existing garments in an attempt to make them conform to the fashionable New Look, and most of the alterations were performed by the wearer herself, rather than a dressmaker.65 The major changes to the fashion system in the 1960s resulted in the decline of the couture industry, which had long been the driving force in fashion. Perhaps not surprisingly, the introduction of revered couturiers in the mid-nineteenth century—most notably Charles Frederick Worth—corresponded to the rise of mass49

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

Figure 2.10  This 1951 Dior evening dress provides insight into the perfection of the couture technique. The heavy ivory silk was densely embellished with polychrome ribbon, silk flowers, and bright blue rhinestones. The ornamentation was applied entirely by hand, and the dress itself was almost entirely hand-stitched (a hallmark of couture craftsmanship). The interior of the dress was also immaculately constructed, featuring a fully boned bodice and a separate crinoline petticoat made from layers of stiff netting. Christian Dior, evening dress, ivory silk satin with multicolor embroidery and rhinestones, 1951, France. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 75.86.5. Gift of Despina Messinesi.

produced clothing. Garments that were made to order from a fashion authority had a cachet of stylishness and quality, setting them apart from clothing made by the average dressmaker—and most certainly ranking them above ready-to-wear garments. “The signature of a designer served the same purpose as the signature of an artist on a painting,”66 wrote Karl Aspelund in his study of haute couture. Today, however, most fashion trends revolve around clothing styles produced by high-end, ready-to-wear labels, rather than couturiers. The allure of the brand name is sometimes all that is needed to attract customers, and high prices do not necessarily translate to quality of craftsmanship or fine materials. “Luxury used to have a shelf life,”67 recalled Ilse Metchek, executive director of the California Fashion Association, but today’s so-called “luxury” goods often hold little more lasting value than their fast-fashion counterparts. Artisanal Techniques and Slow Fashion A potential antidote to the questionable quality and inherent sameness of mass-produced goods may lie in the fusion of ready-made production principles and artisanal techniques. Designers working in the sustainable fashion industry in the early twenty-first century began to perceive elements of high craftsmanship and individuality as key to creating garments with lasting value.​ 50

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John Patrick, whose work was discussed in Chapter 1, ensures that his production practices are transparent, and he maintains strong personal and business relationships with craftspeople around the globe. Such business models are, unfortunately, a rarity within the fashion world. Many workers in countries such as India and Malaysia are taxed with the production of hand-embroidered garments, but few of them are paid fairly for their skills. Many work from their homes in abysmal conditions. As Lucy Siegle concluded in To Die For, “in luxury [goods], the handworker is celebrated; in Big Fashion she is an inconvenient truth.”68 It becomes apparent, therefore, that simply purchasing clothing with unique, handcrafted elements is not enough—conscientious consumers must also research the conditions under which such embellishments were produced. The issue of working conditions is discussed further in Chapter 4. John Patrick’s one-of-a-kind ensemble holds even greater significance than the beauty and ethics of its craftsmanship. It was made for the 2008 Council of the Fashion Designers of America/Vogue Fashion Fund Award,69 for which Patrick was nominated. The selection of John Patrick’s label for such a prestigious award was a major coup for the sustainable fashion industry at the time—which had been often critiqued for its focus on “earthy” designs that were decidedly out of the realm of high fashion. The origins of the sustainable fashion movement are often traced back to the 1970s—the time period

Figure 2.11 John Patrick, who founded his label, Organic, in 2007, takes multiple approaches to the concept of sustainability, but his focus on artisanship is prime among them. In a 2008 ensemble, Patrick hand-painted a blouse and skirt in shades of purple. The skirt’s colorful border was hand-embroidered in Peru. Patrick has consistently worked with Peruvian artisans and organic farmers since launching his label. Installation shot from Eco-Fashion: Going Green (The Museum at FIT, 2010). Organic by John Patrick, ensemble, hand-painted white organic cotton mesh, purple silk, 2008, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 2010.43.2. Gift of John Patrick. 51

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in which hippies used hand-made and secondhand clothing to express their anti-fashion ideals, as well as their concern for the environment. As the sustainable fashion movement has evolved, it has been somewhat of a struggle for designers to shed the associations with hippie culture in favor of a more high-fashion appearance. Alabama Chanin, a label founded in 2006 by designer Natalie Chanin, has become especially recognized for the integrity of its designs, in addition to its business practices. Chanin’s company epitomizes the slow fashion movement. Alabama Chanin’s clothing is made from “organic, custom-dyed cotton jersey that is cut, painted, sewn, and embellished by hand in America by skilled artisans.”70 The label was started after the brand with which Chanin was previously involved, Project Alabama, moved its manufacturing to India.71 The designer works from her small hometown of Florence, Alabama, where she focuses on entirely local production—from the growth of the organic cotton used in her garments to the skilled craftspeople she employs to make them.​ Alabama Chanin’s clothing is never trend-driven, and it is designed to be versatile, comfortable, and flattering to many different body types.72 These qualities are essential, as the impeccable craftsmanship of the clothing comes at a high price. For those who can purchase the garments, they are intended to be “investment” pieces that can be worn for many years. In an industry dominated by US$5 T-shirts, however, the label has been criticized as “elitist” and “inaccessible.” It is for that very reason that Chanin has published several lavishly illustrated books on her work, giving step-by-step instructions on how to make Alabama Chanin clothing at

Figure 2.12  This three-piece Alabama Chanin ensemble consists of a wrap-style top, a skirt, and a jacket. It was entirely hand-stitched from the label’s signature knit cotton fabric, dyed a shade of light blue. Alabama Chanin (Natalie Chanin), ensemble: coat and two-piece wrap dress, light blue organic cotton jersey, Spring 2010, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 2010.19.1. Museum purchase. 52

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Figure 2.13  This is a close-up of the Alabama Chanin ensemble shown in Figure 2.12. While the silhouette of the ensemble is basic, the embellished fabric is decidedly elaborate. Each garment was constructed from two layers of fabric. In some areas, leaf shapes were cut out from the top layer of fabric, the edges of which were painted and topstitched. The leaves were then filled in with small silver beads. On other parts of the cloth, smaller organic shapes were sketched, painted, and outlined with the same white topstitching. The final result took months to complete. Alabama Chanin (Natalie Chanin), detail of organic cotton jersey fabric, Spring 2010, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 2010.19.1. Museum purchase.

home. In freely revealing her company’s production practices, Chanin hoped to “shed light on not only how we can preserve and protect precious natural resources but also how we can preserve and protect techniques that were once understood as essential survival skills.”73 New York-based designer Mary Ping began her conceptual clothing label, Slow and Steady Wins the Race, in 2002. The name of the brand underscores its ideology: to create a line of clothing and accessories in a slowed-down production cycle, specifically through its dedication to nonseasonal designs that are “timely and timeless.”74 Clothing and accessories from the label’s earliest collections are still available two decades later—creating what Ping refers to as a “living archive,”75 and underscoring the lasting relevance of the designs. Just shortly after launching her label, Ping introduced a line of handbags. The collection was produced at the height of the “It bag” craze—a time in which demand for the latest designer bags resulted in exorbitant prices, even if the bags were quickly replaced by the next trendy style. “People sort of hit the saturation point with the status handbags .  .  . Increasingly, I couldn’t see where the design lay within the status it-bag,”76 remembered the designer. Ping’s bag designs were modeled after recognizable styles from several prominent fashion houses, exemplified by her version of the ubiquitous “Postal” bag by 53

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

Figure 2.14  This bag was made by designer Mary Ping’s conceptual clothing label, Slow and Steady Wins the Race. It was modeled on the “Postal” bag by Balenciaga but constructed in unbleached cotton canvas. Ping’s handbag line was inspired by forgeries of designer bags available on New York City’s Canal Street for next-to-nothing prices, meaning that Ping’s bags were like “knock-offs of knock-offs.”84 The designer’s work was thought-provoking: while the owner of a real Balenciaga may not have carried it more than a few seasons (for fear it would look outdated), Ping’s unique version transcended trends. Slow and Steady Wins the Race (Mary Ping), “Postal” bag, unbleached cotton canvas, Fall 2002, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 2005.63.1. Gift of Mary Ping.

Balenciaga (Figure 2.14). Rather than using traditional handbag materials, however, Ping’s versions were crafted from inexpensive cotton canvas, relying solely on their silhouettes and minimal hardware to convey their design origins. The designer explained her concept as a “logical dissection of fashion, an investigation into the basic elements of what we wear, and a considered response to the hyper-consumerist pace of fashion.”77 Stripped of their luxury skins and extraneous design elements, the bags took on an unassuming appearance. Ping continues to produce pared-down versions of iconic designer handbags, which are made to order. Design Features As a final area of inspiration for change in the sphere of design and manufacture, we can turn to designfocused strategies—and take a step back in time to the nineteenth century. Many women’s clothes at this time were thoughtfully and efficiently made, and dresses were often designed for maximum wear. Fabric remained a significant expenditure, even after the mechanization of its production. Since skirts necessitated the greatest quantity of fabric in a dress, the same skirt would often be worn with different bodices—usually one for the day and another for the evening. Some items had features that in today’s fashion lexicon would be described as transformable or multifunctional—designed “with more than one use or configuration.”78 The nineteenth-century evening dress shown in Figure 2.15, for example, could be transformed into a style suitable for daytime by adjusting the neckline and adding long sleeves, as shown in Figure 2.16. 54

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Figure 2.15  This dress in pale green silk took a notably economical approach to fabric conservation. It had just one bodice, with a low-cut neckline and short sleeves that were appropriate for eveningwear. As shown here, a matching pelerine could also be worn over the bodice, disguising the low neckline and transforming the dress into a style appropriate for daywear. A pair of long sleeves has also been added to the dress, further allowing the wearer to convert its appearance. Dress with evening bodice, pale green silk, c. 1840, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, P87.20.48. Museum purchase.

A rather different example of a design feature that we would consider sustainable today is the modular overcoat designed by Russian Constructivist Vladimir Tatlin in 1924. As art historian Radu Stern explains, Tatlin gave consideration to the fact that the parts of an overcoat wear out at different rates and therefore “conceived the design in three modules, which could be replaced one after another as needed.”79 This strategy extended the life of the garment. Stern notes that “Tatlin’s innovation was greatly appreciated at a time when cloth was so scarce that even the tiniest piece was considered a small treasure.”80 Sustainable fashion today is concerned not only with how clothing is made but also with how it is cared for after it is purchased and worn. Washing our clothing is a simple, automated process today, and we rarely consider the environmental impact of laundering (such as the release of harmful microfibers and the amount of energy and freshwater used, which can be four times as harmful as the manufacture of the garment itself81). In the nineteenth century, however, laundering clothing was an enormously labor-intensive task. A study of laundry practices in the United States at that time found that some clothing was likely constructed with hand stitching, rather than machine stitching so that it could be taken apart and cleaned with greater ease.82 Other nineteenth-century dressmaking techniques underscored the value of the fabric in different ways. For instance, a handbook from 1874 entitled How to Dress on £15 a Year offered tips on how to save fabric when cutting and making a dress at home. “By careful attention to all these little things a reduction of two or three yards can frequently be gained. An inch or two here or there soon mounts up 55

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

Figure 2.16  Here we can see the dress featured in Figure 2.15 without the matching pelerine and sleeves. The aesthetic effect is quite different; in this mode, the dress would be worn as eveningwear. Dress, pale green silk, c. 1840, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, P87.20.48. Museum purchase.

to yards in cutting out a costume,”83 it advised. As dresses of the period frequently required thirteen or fourteen yards of fabric,84 such tips could have spared a dressmaker nearly 20 percent of the total amount of cloth needed. Such an idea is akin to the current concept of zero-waste pattern cutting. In fact, the zero-waste concept has deep historical roots that can be traced back far beyond the nineteenth century. In her book Cut My Cote, textile and dress historian Dorothy Burnham explored ancient practices of making clothing, observing that “weaving far outstripped the techniques of cutting and sewing, with the result that garments were made with the cut edges as straight as possible and with selvages cleverly utilized to save the sewing of hems and to give strength where needed.”85 In Zero Waste Fashion Design, Timo Rissanen and Holly McQuillan explain that “Burnham was perhaps the first to place the efficiency of cut at the forefront of her research uncovering the link between the loom type used for weaving by a particular culture at a particular time, the resulting fabric width, and most significantly, the relationship between fabric width, garment cut, and the resulting waste.”86 The economy of materials continued to be an important component for hundreds of years. In eighteenth-century France, for instance, a garment was considered to be successfully designed when it produced no more scrap fabric than could fit in one hand.87 Rissanen and McQuillan identify a variety of historical garment forms that are constructed with little or no waste, including Japanese kimonos, geometric trousers from China and a “square-cut” shirt that has been common in many cultures.88 Even in the late twentieth century—when cloth was easily available and frequently wasted—traditional notions of dressmaking and appreciation for fabrics were not entirely lost. Designer Yeohlee Teng (known professionally as Yeohlee) began crafting garments that centered on minimal fabric wastage in the 1980s, including a one-piece coat crafted from three yards of material. In some of her other designs, any leftover fabric was used to create elements such as ties and pockets.89 Yeohlee created her entire fall 2009 collection “on the principle of economy in design, fabric and execution,”90 and many of the garments presented utilized every inch of fabric.​ Such thoughtfulness in regard to fabric usage is a rarity in today’s fashion industry. On average, about 15 percent of the cloth used to make an adult-sized garment is wasted—and that scrap fabric is usually sent straight to landfills.91 Although Yeohlee does not consider herself a sustainable fashion designer, she incorporates 56

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Figure 2.17  This outfit from Yeohlee’s fall 2009 collection featured a floor-length sarong, made from four layers of uncut black organza that were simply folded and stitched. When tied on the body, the sarong’s elegant silhouette belied its zerowaste construction. For the runway presentation, however, Yeohlee chose to highlight how her garments were designed. Over the course of the show, several models removed their zero-waste outer garments (they wore basic black body suits underneath), and arranged the clothing over outlines of the pattern pieces used to construct them, which had been taped out on the runway floor. It was astounding to observe how such seemingly simple geometric patterns could result in fashions that looked so complex when worn.

numerous principles of sustainability into her practices. In addition to her consideration for the economy of cloth, Yeohlee concentrates on functionality and adaptability in her work, offering clothing that can be layered or mixed-and-matched for maximum wear. The aforementioned body suits, for example, are wardrobe staples that can be paired with a variety of different garments. Yeohlee’s work is at once contemporary and timeless: it can be worn for decades without looking dated. It could even be said that it exemplifies a new type of luxury dressing, which emphasizes high-quality materials and immaculate, long-lasting construction over ostentation or “branding.” Thinking Critically Changes in fashion production practices over the past 250 years have meant that clothes can be produced far more easily than previously. The framework for today’s methods of clothing manufacture can be traced back to the establishment of the ready-to-wear industry during the mid-nineteenth century, although such clothing made up only a small part of most women’s wardrobes until the twentieth century. Readymade clothing was usually worn to supplement more complex garments that were made by a couturier, a 57

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dressmaker, or at home. When garments were custom-made for their wearers, only the “right amount” of clothing was produced—eliminating the potential for excess supply of mass-produced fashion. The changes discussed in this chapter have transformed clothing from a valued commodity to something that can, in many contexts, be treated as disposable. The culture of overconsumption in the mainstream globalized fashion system causes many problems such as waste, pollution, and appalling labor conditions, and— as outlined in the introduction to the book—is directly connected with global challenges including the climate crisis. Strategies to address the rapid disposal of clothing encompass measures to improve the physical durability of garments. It is hoped that by improving fabric quality and ensuring good standards of manufacture, items will stay in use for longer. Yet it is important to recognize the variety of reasons why garments are discarded, which relate to intangible and emotional factors as well as material factors. There is a danger that if we tackle only issues of physical durability, we will simply see better quality clothing lying dormant and unworn in our overloaded closets—or, even worse, being sent to landfills. Designers are increasingly interested in exploring thoughtful design strategies that address emotional aspects of durability and find inventive ways to maximize the usefulness of each item. However, we must acknowledge that a designer cannot control the way in which a garment is worn, as clothes are used in often unpredictable and idiosyncratic ways.92 This means that mass-produced, supposedly “throwaway” clothes might be valued and worn for many years, while “slow fashion” items could be disposed of quickly, with little care. Design initiatives that seek to work with this unpredictability and support the reuse of items hold great promise and require designers to shift their attention from the design of products to the design of services and systems—as in the example shown in Figure 2.18. Calls are often heard for consumers to buy fewer items and to give careful consideration to which clothes will have some degree of longevity in their wardrobes. It is undoubtedly the case that our collective clothing habits will need to change if we are to lessen the negative impacts of the fashion industry on the environment. Yet there are limitations to a “green consumerist” mentality: a focus on shopping as the locus of sustainability action arguably supports, rather than challenges, the underpinning ethos of consumer capitalism. Furthermore, responsibility for change is placed on the individual; this allows businesses to avoid addressing the impacts of their activity by arguing that they are simply following consumer demand. Ultimately, we need to recognize that choices about the design and manufacture of garments, like the material choices discussed in Chapter 1, sit within a broader fashion system that is driven by expectations of constant change and economic growth. A more ambitious approach to sustainability in fashion would direct attention to the redesign and remaking of this wider system, as we will discuss in Chapter 6.

Further Reading To gain a deeper understanding of the historical development of the European and US clothing industry, try “Developing Consumerism and the Ready-made Clothing Trade in Britain, 1750–1800,” by Beverly Lemire, in Fashion: Critical and Primary Sources, edited by Peter McNeil (Berg, 2009), or “The Manufacture of the Fashion System,” by Ellen Leopold, in Chic Thrills: A Fashion Reader, edited by Juliet Ash and Elizabeth Wilson (University of California Press, 1993). Great inspiration for contemporary designs can be drawn from ingenious traditional garment forms; an array of examples is included in Costume Patterns and Designs: A Survey of Costume Patterns and Designs of All Periods and Nations from Antiquity to Modern Times, a beautifully illustrated book by German costume designer Max Tilke (A. Zwemmer, 1956). 58

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Figure 2.18  Changxian Chu and Yifan Wang devised a “tattooed denim” concept, using laser etching and stitched ornamentation to extend the useful life of discarded jeans while studying fashion design at California College of the Arts. They developed the concept into an idea for a service-based “fashion tattoo parlor” business, where customers return for additional laser etched ornamentation on their garments. This demonstrates the potential for design strategies to extend far beyond the form of garments to encompass the design of services and systems.

Inspiration for contemporary sustainable design strategies can be found in books such as A Practical Guide to Sustainable Fashion by Alison Gwilt (2nd edition, Bloomsbury, 2020). Insights into concepts of durability from diverse cultural perspectives are offered by the Decentring Durability project: https:// katefletcher​.com​/projects​/decentring​-durability/. To learn from on-the-ground accounts of the devastating impacts of the waste generated by the mainstream fashion system, check out Dead White Man’s Clothes, a multimedia research project exploring the secondhand clothing trade in Ghana coordinated by The Or Foundation: https://dea​dwhi​tema​nsclothes​.org.

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C hapter 3 REUSE AND RECYCLING

Reuse and recycling are accessible, familiar, and widespread ways of pursuing sustainability in relation to our clothes. Whether performed by individual wearers, by small-scale enterprises, by community initiatives, or by international corporations, reuse and recycling practices provide opportunities to extend the useful lifetimes of individual garments, to transform damaged clothes into new items, and to reclaim fibers for use in new materials. They are, therefore, powerful strategies for reducing textile waste and minimizing the need for a new production—and thus have the potential to address the problems of overconsumption and premature disposal that can undermine other approaches to sustainability. At its most simple, reuse can mean passing on a garment to a new wearer. This “passing on” can take place in many ways: informally, as when children’s clothes are handed down within a family; within a community setting, such as an organized clothes swap or via a virtual equivalent such as Nuw;1 through donation to charities, which may sell items on or pass them directly to people who need them; by secondhand clothing dealers; via online wearer-towearer sales platforms such as Depop;2 and through brand-managed resale ventures such as Eileen Fisher’s Renew scheme.3 While secondhand clothing has long been stigmatized, the growth of this sector in recent years reflects increased social acceptability. Research in the United States for resale site ThredUp in 2019 found that 70 percent of women were prepared to buy secondhand clothes, compared with 45 percent in 2015.4​ The reuse of garments often goes hand in hand with repair. As clothes are frequently discarded due to minor problems such as a lost button, moth hole, or dropped hem, even a simple mend can extend the useful lifetime of an item. Repair might be undertaken by wearers within the home; by a specialist commercial service, whether an independent business or a fashion brand’s in-house repair team; or as part of the process of preparing used clothes for resale. Like used clothing, repair has traditionally carried a sense of stigma, but a new mending movement is reshaping its cultural meanings.5 Professional textile practitioners and amateur makers alike are exploring the potential of “visible mending,” highlighting their repairs as a celebration of anti-consumerism.6​ Another approach is to repurpose an item of used clothing, substantially altering its original form. Alternatively, the fabric from unwanted garments can be remade into new items. Both can be described as “upcycling.” This term was first popularized by William McDonough and Michael Braungart in their influential book Cradle to Cradle: Remaking the Way we Make Things.7 It is defined by sustainable fashion expert Sandy Black as “design using reprocessed or waste materials to make a product of equal or higher, not lower quality.”8 Upcycled garments function as a distinctive alternative to mass-produced fashions; like vintage clothing, their uniqueness is valued by many wearers. Each pair of the reworked sneakers created by Helen Kirkum, as shown in Figure 3.3, “[weaves] together the memories of the components that make it, allowing the owner to own something inherently personal and one-of-a-kind.”9 Textile recycling involves materials being turned back into fiber, which can then be used to produce new textiles. These materials include pre-consumer waste, which is generated in the processing of fiber, yarn, and fabric, as well as the manufacture of clothing itself, and post-consumer waste, or discarded used clothing. The recycling of this waste into new materials has become vital to the preservation of valuable natural resources and is often discussed in terms of the “circular economy.” The benefits of recycling textiles are numerous: in addition to reducing landfill waste, textile recycling is a relatively low-impact process. Many recycled fibers are not re-dyed (or use less dye than new fibers), and thus chemical and water waste are lessened. The process can also use less energy than

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

Figure 3.1  The popularity of vintage fashion has been building steadily in the twenty-first century. The uniqueness of a one-off vintage item is important to contemporary wearers who place particular emphasis on individuality through their dress. While digital platforms have enabled dealers to reach new markets, physical stores, and vintage fairs retain their appeal to enthusiasts. This vintage boutique in Berlin, Glencheck, is highly specialized, selling clothing and accessories from the 1920s to the 1950s.

the production of new fibers.10 Yet the process can present significant challenges. When cotton is mechanically recycled, for example, the staple fiber length is shortened, lowering its quality. The mixing of fiber types within a single textile—such as cotton blended with polyester—creates major problems. Furthermore, the fibers, dyes, and finishes used on post-consumer waste are often unknown, adding another layer of difficulty to the process.11 Various initiatives, such as Worn Again Technologies12 and Renewcell,13 are working to address such challenges through innovative approaches to fiber recycling. This chapter explores historical perspectives on the wearing of secondhand clothing, the repurposing or remaking of garments, and the recycling of existing fabrics into new textiles, with examples drawn from the Western apparel market from the eighteenth century to the early twenty-first century. In comparison with the other chapters, there are many more positive examples to share. The first section considers historical reuse practices up to 1945 and fiber recycling from the early 1800s to its near extinction in the 1960s. The second section examines reuse from the years after the Second World War through to the early 2000s. During this period the increased availability of affordable clothing meant that repurposing and repair were increasingly marginal as an essential part of the household economy. Yet inventive practices of reuse appeared in new contexts, driven by their aesthetic appeal, inherent individuality, and environmental benefits. The section concludes with a look at the return of fiber recycling in recent decades. How Did We Get Here? As we will see in this section, reuse and recycling practices have a long history. In the past, secondhand and repurposed cloth goods were typically utilized for reasons such as thrift, economic necessity, and appreciation for well-made materials. Prior to the industrialization of textile production in the nineteenth century, fabrics and clothing were costly, cherished commodities that were quite literally used to shreds. Over time, as readymade clothes became more and more accessible, reused and recycled items became increasingly stigmatized. 62

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Figure 3.2  Kate Sekules, pictured on the right of this image, is one of the leaders of the visible mending movement, which encourages wearers to make a feature of repairs on their garments. Another kind of visibility is the increasing tendency for people to turn mending into a social event, with integral opportunities for peer support and skillsharing. Such meet-ups are reminiscent of the communal stitching sessions that have long been common in many cultures. Here, Kate is enjoying a group mending session with friends Ambrosia Parsley and Holly Miranda.

Repurposing Practices Practices of reusing, repurposing, and repairing clothing and textiles have existed for centuries. Research on the “rag trade” has proven that the sale of secondhand clothing was widespread. Well into the nineteenth century, used garments made up a substantial portion of nearly every person’s wardrobe in Europe and North America—with the exception of only the very wealthy.14 Tailors frequently sold used goods, and also allowed such objects to be exchanged in partial payment for the making of new clothes, meaning that, as historian Beverley Lemire explains, secondhand clothing could act as an “alternate form of currency.”15 The value of a garment lay in its quality, condition, and functional attributes—though, given the vagaries of fashion, dealers had to find the right market for any particular item in order to maximize its value.16 Many other specialized vendors, such as breech makers, milliners, and shoemakers, sold used fashions alongside new offerings. In fact, some fashion historians consider such garments to be the first “ready-made” items, meaning that consumers were familiar with pre-made clothing long before it was mass-produced.17 Like the purchase of secondhand clothing, the practice of updating and altering existing garments was prevalent at nearly all class levels. As Elizabeth Sanderson wrote in her essay on the secondhand clothing trade in eighteenth-century Edinburgh, “people made their clothes last as long as possible; we find their clothes being turned, dyed, scoured, eked, cut down, let out, or simply ‘helped.’”18 Even unfashionable clothing and accessories held value in the secondhand market during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries; garments were priced according to how fashionable they were, but also by the quality of their materials. An item such as a stunningly embroidered, finely woven silk waistcoat, as was used to construct the bag shown in Figure 3.4, would have retained significant worth. 63

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Figure 3.3  Artist and designer Helen Kirkum creates reworked sneakers from recycled and deadstock materials, resulting in a striking deconstructed aesthetic. Since graduating from the Royal College of Art in 2016, Kirkum has won international acclaim for her inventive artisanal approach to sustainable footwear. Her studio offers a made-to-order service; customers can send in up to six worn pairs of sneakers to be transformed into a highly personal and unique design. Kirkum also collaborates with brands to create one-off projects such as this pair, created for the AW17 Casely Hayford catwalk presentation.

Figure 3.4  This woman’s reticule19 bag provides a fascinating example of a repurposed object. The bag is made from ivory silk that is artfully embellished with multicolor embroidery, silk fringe, and tassels. When dress styles were too simple and lightweight to easily accommodate pockets during the early nineteenth century,20 this type of bag was essential to a woman’s wardrobe. Intriguingly, this object was constructed to highlight a decorative pocket that was originally part of the eighteenth-century waistcoat from which the bag was repurposed. The bag’s silhouette is carefully contoured to correspond to the shape of the original embroidery of the waistcoat. Reticule, ivory silk with multicolor embroidery, c. 1800, France. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 93.132.2. Gift of Thomas Oechsler. 64

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Women’s dresses from the eighteenth century offered a great opportunity for repurposing, as they were frequently fashioned from long, uncut lengths of fabric. Textiles were significantly more costly than the labor it took to alter them, and as a result, most garments were modified numerous times to keep up with changes in fashion.21 “Even the wealthy saved fabrics, remodeled clothes, and sold unwanted items in the secondhand market,” observes fashion scholar Linda Welters. “Sustainability was a way of life.”22 Indeed, although change is inherent to fashion, the remodeling of the existing clothing, rather than buying new, was a widespread practice. It is rare, in fact, to find an eighteenth-century dress that does not show some sign of alteration. The cost of having a gown made, or remade, was only about half the cost of the textile itself 23 and could be significantly less, depending on the type of fabric. In addition to updated dress silhouettes, accessories and trimmings played an important role in refreshing old clothing styles. For example, the addition of a row of lace on a bodice was an economical alternative to the full replacement of a gown.12 Many eighteenth-century dresses, particularly those from the first half of the century, were constructed with relatively crude stitches, indicating that the effortless deconstruction of the original gown was a consideration.24 Because fabrics retained value even when they were not in fashion, hand-woven silks, cherished for their quality and beauty, were sometimes passed down through generations. It is believed that the styles of many mid- to late-eighteenth-century gowns derived from a dress style that was prevalent early in the century, usually referred to as a mantua. Essentially a loose gown with large pleats at the shoulders to fit it slightly to the body, the mantua’s simple shape showcased intricate silk patterns to their full advantage.13 Wide pleats also meant that significant widths of the gown’s fabric remained uncut. As dress silhouettes evolved, many mantuas were picked apart, and their material was reused to fashion more up-to-date gowns. The heavy silks of these garments were not suited to the simple, slender dress silhouettes of the early nineteenth century, but such silks were again appropriate for women’s garments from approximately 1835 to 1845. It is during this time period, in particular, that a number of dresses in museum collections prove to have been remade from eighteenth-century silks. Despite innovations in the production of textiles and clothing over the course of the nineteenth century (as discussed in Chapters 1 and 2), high-quality clothing continued to be a significant expense for all but the wealthiest consumers. The successful transformation of an old fabric or gown into a new, fashionable garment would have attested to the cleverness of its wearer—or perhaps her dressmaker.​ Shawls and Scraps Repurposing practices continued as the nineteenth century progressed. Household and etiquette manuals from the latter part of the century frequently encouraged women to be as resourceful as possible with their clothing and textiles. While advice for reconfiguring men’s and women’s garments into children’s wear was prevalent,25 large, uncut lengths of cloth, such as shawls, would have offered even greater possibilities for repurposing. Kashmir shawls had become fashionable luxury items for women by the 1790s and were imported from the Kashmir region to both Europe and the United States. Made from goat hair, the shawls were soft and warm, and they became ideal accompaniments to the slender, lightweight dresses of the early nineteenth century. Prices of imported shawls ranged considerably, but by 1860, some of the longest and most luxurious examples cost over US$2,000.26 Imitations of the Kashmir shawl were produced in the West, notably in Paisley in Scotland. The production of shawls in the town became so intensive that the shawls soon came to be known as Paisley shawls. By the 1870s, shawls were falling out of fashion, due primarily to changes in dress silhouette. Although the shawls themselves were no longer worn, they retained value as luxurious cloth, ripe for remaking—as shown in Figure 3.6. 65

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Figure 3.5 This dress, which dates from c. 1840, was remade from eighteenth-century fabric. The silk brocade was originally made in Spitalfields, a renowned silk weaving center located just outside of London. Anna Maria Garthwaite, a prominent English textile designer, may have created the fabric’s floral pattern, which dates to c. 1760. While the silhouette and construction of the dress corresponded to the fashions of the early 1840s, closer inspection reveals that the original bodice of the dress was turned back-to-front, and a fashionably pointed waistline and ruched neckline were added. Although the original gown’s sleeve ruffles were removed during its reconfiguration, they were preserved. Dress refashioned from eighteenth-century fabric, ivory silk brocade, c. 1840, England. Collection of The Museum at FIT, P87.20.7. Museum purchase.

While uncut lengths of cloth were highly sought after, scraps of fabric also held some value. As a case study of the use of such scraps, we can consider the American handicraft of crazy quilts: quilts assembled from fabric scraps of irregular shape and size, lending them a haphazard appearance. In spite of its name, the crazy quilt was not a traditional quilt. There was no batting inserted between the two layers, and scraps of fabric were simply attached to a backing material. Purely decorative embroidery was applied instead of typical quilting stitches. Crazy quilts were neither warm nor sturdily constructed and were therefore used ornamentally, draped over furniture, for example, rather than as functional bed coverings. Crazy quilts emerged in the 1870s, and the trend reached its peak in the late nineteenth century. It is thought that they were inspired by the Japanese decorative arts on view at the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia— specifically Japanese silk screens, marquetry boxes, and “crazed-glaze” pottery,27 for which the quilt style was likely named. The scraps of fabric that were used for crazy quilts were initially just that: scraps that were taken from unwearable or discarded articles of clothing. Pieces of material with sentimental value (e.g., a bit from grandmother’s wedding dress) further added to the appeal of the crazy quilt fad. An 1883 article in The Decorator and Furnisher magazine advised readers that scraps of fabric “need not be thrown away or sold to the ragman or sacrificed to the insatiable flames,” but they could instead be transformed into a stylish quilt.28 Yet by the 1880s, crazy quilting had become so popular that kits were available for purchase, eliminating the need to hunt for scraps. This marketing strategy coincided with an increase in silk production in the United States.29 66

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Figure 3.6  This dress and matching handbag were remade from a Paisley shawl. The construction of the dress underscores the expanse of cloth that it required, as its back (including a short train) was cut and tailored from a single length of fabric. Although the shawl fabric is thick, the dress was fully lined in several different prints and colors of silk—indicating that the lining was perhaps made from repurposed or scrap fabrics as well. The corresponding handbag has a wide border that was made from the same material as the dress, but the body of the bag appears to have been fashioned from an entirely different shawl and its raw-edged handle was braided from leftover strips of fabric. Dress remade from Paisley shawl, multicolor wool, and burgundy velvet, c. 1889, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 89.154.12. Gift of Maria Burgaleta-Larson.

The Great Depression and the Second World War As discussed in Chapter 2, ready-to-wear garments had become widely available for both men and women by the early twentieth century. Yet the market for cast-off clothing did not diminish. Records indicate that many consumers continued to enhance their wardrobes by purchasing secondhand goods. But to buy secondhand was increasingly stigmatized, and such transactions often remained as covert as possible. For example, in the essay “Smart Clothes at Low Prices: Alliances and Negotiations in the British Interwar Secondhand Clothing Trade,” author Celia Marshik outlines the discretion necessary for the sale and purchase of secondhand garments among upper- and middle-class women. Such sales were often prudently managed by a middlewoman. Women of the upper classes were not necessarily wealthy, but it was important for them to remain well-dressed. Many such women needed to make a profit from the sale of old clothing in order to purchase new garments—which in turn benefited less affluent consumers. “Many women only came into contact with clothing designed by Chanel and Poiret—as well as with less august names—after other women had worn the garments and decided to sell them,”30 Marshik writes. Yet even clothing from the most fashionable labels had to be carefully considered and redistributed, as outdated styles would have immediately signaled a woman’s inability to purchase the latest designs—and, more specifically, may have directly indicated that she was buying secondhand.

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Reuse practices returned to the fore during the Great Depression in the 1930s. Although Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar continued to enthusiastically present the latest fashions throughout the decade, even they could not entirely ignore the effects of the Depression on the fashion industry. In 1933, for instance, Vogue referenced the need to economize by mentioning “the growing practice of making one costume do duty as several by changing accessories.”31 Yet even a cursory study of other sources from the Depression-era indicates that maintaining a wardrobe was often a greater challenge than simply changing one’s accessories. A guidebook entitled Dyeing, Remodeling, Budgets, published by The Woman’s Institute of Domestic Arts and Sciences in 1931, outlined several ways in which women could maintain their families’ wardrobes in a spendthrift manner. “Among the factors that aid her to increase the producing value of the dollar are the dye pot, the ability to remodel clothes, an intelligent treatment of clothing, and the observation of a clothes budget,” it stated. The guide even went so far as to assert, “extravagance in dress conveys to thinking persons a feeling of doubt as to a woman’s intelligence. Thrift, intelligent application of knowledge, and skill with the hands are worth-while factors in life and are recognized by such persons qualified to judge.”32 Although this manual pre-dates the “Make Do and Mend” booklets released during the Second World War, which will be discussed shortly, their ethos is quite similar. For many people, extravagance in dress was not even an option in the 1930s. In Studs Terkel’s seminal oral history of the Great Depression, Hard Times, a number of the interview subjects, particularly women, mention clothing in their recollections of the time period. Mary Owsley, who lived in Oklahoma from 1929 to 1936, spoke of dust storms that ruined the clothing that she had hung outside to dry: “They was never fit to use, actually. I had to use ‘em, understand, but they wasn’t very presentable.”33 Jane Yoder, who was a child living in Illinois at the time, recalled being laughed at for wearing an “Indian blanket coat” one winter. Nevertheless, it was the only warm outer garment she owned, and she wore it gratefully.34 The dressing gown shown in Figure 3.7—which was remade from an antique crazy quilt, as discussed earlier in the chapter—was created during this period. By the 1930s, many crazy quilts were dilapidated, but they continued to be passed on as family heirlooms. The dressing gown would have been strictly for at-home use, and its fashionableness (or lack thereof) was likely of little concern to its wearer. During the Second World War, when new clothing was in limited supply, it was essential that existing garments be cared for or repurposed as thoughtfully as possible—and the “Make Do and Mend” ethos was born. The campaign to make do with existing clothing was met with impressive innovation—and even with enthusiasm in the United States, where many women seemed to view the conservation of fabric as their patriotic duty.35 In addition to fastidiously maintaining clothes that were already in their closets, some women relied on the purchase of secondhand goods that could be altered or remade into new fashions.36 Numerous publications and articles were written on the topic of making do, all of which provided clever ideas for maintaining, mending, or repurposing existing clothing and textiles. In a 1943 booklet released by the Board of Trade in the United Kingdom (where “Make Do and Mend” was a governmental campaign), women were given tips on how to help clothes last longer, make repairs to material, wash and iron garments, renovate existing clothes, and unpick knit garments so that the yarn could be reused. “No material must lie idle,” readers were instructed, “so be a magician and turn old clothes into new.”37​ Other sources show the Make Do and Mend philosophy in practice. In 1943, the New York Times reported on a runway show that featured garments inspired by the “rag bag.” Designed by students at the Traphagen School of Fashion, the materials used for the clothing included “new versions of dad’s cast-off shirts, the upholstery that was meant for the family automobile, the bedspread that brother burned a hole in and the checkered tablecloth that was ‘too shabby to use,’” in addition to a bathing suit made from a shower curtain. Although the show also featured clothing that had simply been altered from past styles, the fully repurposed goods purportedly received the most attention.38 A video by Britain’s Board of Trade, entitled How to Make-Do-and-Mend, features footage from a special exhibition held at upscale London department store Harrod’s. The exhibition was devoted to “showing the housewife how to turn old things into something quite different and as good as new,” and also 68

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Figure 3.7  This man’s dressing gown was made from a crazy quilt, an American handicraft that was at its peak in the late nineteenth century. While the origin of the crazy quilt used to construct this dressing gown is unknown, it seems to have been made with affection. New embroidery motifs were added to the left sleeve, including the name Phil (presumably the name of the wearer), and 1935 (the year the robe was made). Through careful examination, it is also evident that the quilt was substantially mended, probably by the maker of the robe. For example, patches cut from more contemporary fabrics were overlaid onto some of the original silk patches, in order to disguise material that was damaged. Man’s patchwork dressing gown made from crazy quilt, multicolor patchwork and black moiré, 1935, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 90.111.4. Gift of Jack Peterkin.

included a fashion show featuring repurposed garments. One of the highlighted ensembles featured a woman’s dressing gown made from an old quilt (similar to the man’s dressing gown shown in Figure 3.7), worn with pajamas made with “material found in the attic—presumably grandmama’s bed valance.”39 Although Make Do and Mend is a common historical reference point for sustainable fashion today, fashion researcher Bethan Bide argued (at a 2022 conference exploring histories of resourcefulness, reuse, and creative ingenuity in twentieth-century fashion) that the British government scheme actually had a limited impact.40 She proposed that rationing and the Utility clothing scheme (discussed in Chapter 2) were far more effective in reducing demand for clothing and highlighted the dangers of focusing on a single strategy without consideration for the wider historical context. Shoddy Recycling Turning now to fiber recycling, we must start by noting that textile recycling is one of the oldest forms of material reprocessing in the world.41 With the exception of a few recent advancements, the production processes and uses of recycled textiles have changed little over their long history. Textile recycling is primarily a mechanical process: the cloth is first pulled apart by cylinders with projecting teeth. (If garments are being recycled, all labels, tags, and linings are removed prior to the pulling process.) The fibers are then collected into funnels for storage until the next processing stage, called garnetting, which both pulls and combs the fibers to prepare them for spinning.42 Recycled fabrics have been used for “low-grade” (nonclothing) purposes for centuries. When shredded, the material can be made into paper, used as insulation or stuffing, or quite literally used as rags (called wipers) for wiping or polishing. Leftover materials made from natural fibers can be composted.43 69

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Figure 3.8  The Spool Cotton Company released a booklet entitled Make and Mend for Victory in the USA in 1942. This publication focused on alterations and mending and also included a special layout devoted to crafting unique accessories from existing materials. A section called “You Have the Goods on Him,” shown here, detailed four different ways to refashion a woman’s suit from a man’s. Another page with the heading “There’s Life in the Old Girl Yet” showed that companies such as Butterick and Simplicity sold special sewing patterns that demonstrated how women could convert their old clothes into a variety of new styles.

Historically, the first and primary fabric to be recycled was wool. Beginning around 1815, the demand for wool exceeded supply, prompting its reuse. The strength and quality of wool fiber were such that it was especially well suited to recycling.44 When the recycling process was established and refined, however, it was extended to every fiber, excluding silk.45 Fabrics made from post-consumer textile waste are known as “shoddy.”46 By the middle of the nineteenth century, shoddy clothes were purportedly “sold in all markets, consumed in all countries, and served to adorn the royalty and to clothe the crouching slave.”47 Most significantly, the use of shoddy cloth was integral to the burgeoning ready-made clothing industry,48 fulfilling its purpose “to produce cheap, useful, tasteful, and economical cloths for wearing apparel, and other uses.”49 Beyond the worth of the cloth itself, the shoddy manufacturing process was a model of efficiency. Rag dust was used as crop fertilizer, for instance, while other refuse was utilized for bed stuffing or made into chemical agents for fabric dyeing.50​ Despite the merits of shoddy wool, it was viewed with some prejudice even early in its history.51 Although the quality of the fabric varied (depending on the strength of the original fiber), shoddy cloth became associated 70

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Figure 3.9  The recycling of wool fiber developed in the early nineteenth century when the demand for wool exceeded the supply. Sorted woolen rags were placed into this grinding machine, popularly known as a “devil,” and shredded into fiber.52 The reclaimed wool was mixed in varying proportions with new wool and made into a fabric known as shoddy. A similar cloth made from what we would now term pre-consumer waste—tailors’ offcuts—was known as mungo.

only with the cheapest of clothing and shoddy is now a general term that is used to describe products of inferior quality. While an aversion to shoddy wool had been developing for decades, the material nearly vanished from the market in the mid-1960s. This corresponded to the development of the Woolmark label in 1964, as discussed in Chapter 1. While the brand primarily sought to promote high-quality wool over an influx of new, increasingly popular synthetic fabrics, the emphasis on virgin fiber further disadvantaged the wool recycling industry. As we will see in the next section, textile recycling returned to prominence in the late twentieth century with the development of recycled polyester, but it is only in recent years, in the context of a more eco-conscious consumer, that recycled wool has developed a new cachet.​ Inspiration for Change The previous section of this chapter has already provided inspiration for contemporary sustainable fashion practices, in terms of historical examples of reuse dating from before 1945. In this section, we will turn to repurposing and remaking activities that have arisen in the past seventy years, from elite remaking projects in the postwar period to the deconstructed fashion of the 1990s and the rise of sustainable fashion research focusing on upcycling in the early 2000s. We will also consider the return and reframing of fiber recycling as a sustainable approach to textile production. Postwar Repurposing The years following the Second World War are often associated with increased consumerism. Particularly after adherence to fabric rationing and the “Make Do and Mend” ethos of the war years, many women were eager to update their wardrobes with newly feminine and comparatively extravagant styles. Although there continued to be an active market for secondhand garments in the postwar economy,53 wearing secondhand clothing remained somewhat stigmatized and covert. Yet the repurposing of items did not die away completely, as two rather upmarket examples will demonstrate. 71

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Figure 3.10  This maxi-length sweater dress by Betsey Johnson is made from space-dyed wool yarn in shades of blue, green, red, and yellow. Its fashionably casual appearance is underscored by a “natural” motif of birds. The dress included a Woolmark label, meaning that it was made from virgin, non-reprocessed wool—promoted as being of much greater quality than its recycled counterpart. Such labels were commonly seen in high-end woolen clothing, particularly in the 1970s. Betsey Johnson, maxi dress with Woolmark label, multicolor space-dyed wool knit, 1971, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 93.27.1. Gift of Betsey Johnson.

The woman’s vest shown in Figure 3.11, refashioned from an eighteenth-century man’s waistcoat in the 1950s, was part of a 1989 donation to The Museum at FIT from Sylvia Slifka. The donation also included haute couture clothing by Cristobal Balenciaga, Christian Dior, Yves Saint Laurent, Lucien Lelong, and Emanuel Ungaro. The vest was, therefore, notably different from the other objects worn by Mrs. Slifka. Although it is unknown how or when the donor wore this vest, its construction indicates that it was worn as a fashionable garment, rather than as a costume. A pronounced hourglass shape was the predominant silhouette of the 1950s, and the precise re-tailoring of this vest assured that it adhered to the fashionable norm, in spite of its unusual origins. While the waistcoat used to make this vest would have been considered more “antique” than merely secondhand by the 1950s, it was nevertheless an atypical choice for a woman who was otherwise buying couture clothing. As in earlier eras, the appeal of the original waistcoat seems best explained by its exceptional quality and rarity. The hand-woven silk and intricate embroidery used to make the eighteenth-century garment would likely have surpassed even the finest 1950s couture garments in craftsmanship. Nevertheless, Mrs. Slifka’s appreciation of antique dress is noteworthy, as it foreshadowed the wider embrace of secondhand clothing as a fashion statement by nearly twenty years. Methods of repurposing shawls into clothing—as discussed in the previous section—continued well into the twentieth century, but more recent examples appear to have valued aesthetics over necessity or resourcefulness. While the suit shown in Figure 3.12 was made from a Paisley shawl, the fabric’s appearance is 72

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Figure 3.11  This refashioned waistcoat, dating from the mid-twentieth century, provides insight into the enduring value of eighteenth-century embroidered silks. A good deal of the original waistcoat remains intact, particularly at the bottom edge, which preserves the integrity of the embroidery. The armholes and neckline, however, were entirely adjusted. The original standing collar of the waistcoat was removed, cut into pieces, and reattached at the front of the armholes, creating decorative flaps that were not part of the original design. The shape of the waistcoat was also considerably altered through the addition of long darts over the waist, resulting in a more fitted silhouette. The original back fabric of the waistcoat was replaced with black silk. Woman’s vest refashioned from a man’s eighteenth-century waistcoat, ivory silk with multicolor embroidery, c. 1950, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 89.54.2. Gift of Sylvia Slifka.

quite different from that of nineteenth-century garments made from the same starting point. This is because the fabric of the shawl was “turned,” meaning the wrong side of the fabric faces outward. Historically, the method of turning fabric was meant to extend the life of a garment. Clothing made from fabrics that were reversible—including woolens, plain silks, and damasks—could be taken apart, turned, and re-stitched if the material became stained, faded, or otherwise dilapidated. Turning was not an uncommon practice, particularly in the eighteenth century. For example, historian Linda Baumgarten found documentation that George Washington had some of his garments turned.54 The antique Paisley shawl from which this suit was made may have been damaged in some way, and thus the face of the fabric could not be shown. It is even more likely, however, that its owner requested that the fabric be turned for aesthetic reasons. The shawl’s colors are equally vibrant on its reverse, but the exposed threads offer more texture and visual interest. In either case, it is almost certain that the decision to reuse the shawl fabric was not made out of necessity, as the suit was commissioned by a successful entrepreneur and meticulously made to order by a premier Roman tailor. This reuse of a vintage shawl for a contemporary on-trend suit in 1960 was decidedly ahead of its time. In 1971—amid a new trend for wearing and remodeling vintage clothing—the New York Times specifically mentioned the remaking of shawls in an article entitled “For One-of-a-Kind Fashions.” Its author profiled 73

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Figure 3.12  This man’s suit was custom-made for Mr. Valerian Stux-Rybar, a renowned interior designer, from a Paisley shawl by the high-end Italian tailoring firm, Cifonelli, in 1960. Rybar was referred to as “the world’s most expensive decorator,”55 and he designed rooms for an exceptionally high-profile clientele. He was known for his meticulous selection of fabrics56—a sensibility that must have also extended to his wardrobe choices. In addition to the jacket and trousers pictured, the suit has an additional pair of trousers—emphasizing that a single shawl could provide an enormous amount of fabric. Suit remade from Paisley shawl, multicolor wool, 1960, Italy. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 90.149.32. Gift of Mr. Jean François Daigre.

a New York City shop called Juicy Miss Lucy’s, in which the proprietors, Carene Beatty and Lisa Price, sold “old embroidered shawls . . . transformed into puff-sleeved jackets.” The jackets sold for a costly US$100,57 but Beatty would also “turn a customer’s own shawl into a jacket or blouse for $50,”58 proving that the antique shawls were worth as much as the labor required for a custom design. The Rise of Vintage In the latter half of the twentieth century, wearing secondhand clothing as a fashion statement (rather than as an economic necessity) developed as an important component of subcultural style. Hippies and punks, for example, were known to scour thrift stores and flea markets for inexpensive clothing, as a way to express their rejection of mainstream consumerist values. However, another market for secondhand clothing was developing simultaneously. In the mid-to late 1960s, the wearing of select secondhand, or “vintage,” clothing began to develop into a veritable trend among the young and fashionable. By the end of the 1960s, the term “vintage” came to be used to distinguish a specific segment of the secondhand apparel market. The choice of the word vintage—one that was traditionally used to describe wines—indicates the elite status of certain garments within the hierarchy of secondhand clothing. The term can be used to signify a garment that has a designer label, for example, or a style that fits within a trend in contemporary fashion. In other words, vintage clothing is imbued with a monetary or aesthetic value that sets it apart from an abundance of other used garments. Buying vintage clothing often has little to do with thrift. Many consumers are willing to pay extra for vintage fashion since it is perceived as more individual and exclusive than contemporary clothing.59 74

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By 1970, vintage clothes were such a fashion statement that they were prominently featured in upscale department stores, such as New York’s B. Altman. There, an in-store boutique aptly named Yesterday’s News offered carefully chosen secondhand clothes. “One thing that’s been missing in department stores is the thrift shop,” wrote the New York Times. “That breach has been filled by Altman’s with a cozy, lamp-lighted room on the sixth floor called Yesterday’s News.”60 The article went on to discuss the vintage clothes that filled the shop, many of which had been collected by its owner, Lewis Winter, over a number of years. Prior to opening Yesterday’s News, Winter had worked as a merchandiser in New York’s Seventh Avenue fashion district and would have been especially attuned to upcoming trends. The appearance of secondhand and repurposed clothing within the realm of high fashion resulted—within some circles, at least—in its greater acceptance and de-stigmatization. Even by 1973, the New York Times had confirmed that “while antique dresses aren’t necessarily inexpensive, they are elegant, one-of-a-kind fashion.”61 During the decade, a number of publications focused on the wearing of used clothing as a stylish fashion statement. Diane Funaro’s The Yestermorrow Clothes Book (1976), for example, highlighted the quality of vintage clothes, writing: “old period dresses come in a rich assortment of fabrics and styles that is hard to duplicate today.”62 The book also featured detailed instructions on how to repair and update old clothes. In addition to ideas for adding patches or embroidery, Funaro gave tips for altering hemlines, sleeves, and necklines to make garments more fashionable or eliminate flaws. Ellen Weiss presented similar ideas in her 1981 book, Secondhand Super Shopper, avowing, “secondhand clothing has come out of the closet. Even the clothes: no more snobbery about somebody else’s old rags, nothing shameful about hand-me-downs: it’s all chic.”63 What the New York Times article does not mention is that Yesterday’s News also sold clothing made from repurposed or deadstock64 vintage fabrics, such as the dress shown in Figure 3.13. The dress was made by its donor, Lewis Winter’s wife Harriet (also known as Mrs. H. Winter), who later went on to have her own fashion line. In a 1977 interview for the New York Times, Winter recalled that her interest in designing clothes was inspired by the vintage styles she had collected for resale with her husband.65 Making new clothing from vintage fabrics was a technique that she continued to experiment with in her design career, even after the “thrift shop craze” had waned.66 A line of her 1930s-style sundresses, for example, was crafted from old fabric that her husband found abandoned on a dock. In addition, many of her coats were remade from wool blankets, which she selected for their sculptural and sometimes graphic qualities.67 Repurposing and Upcycling in the 1990s and 2000s In the 1990s, the acceptance of secondhand and refashioned clothing as a part of the fashionable wardrobe took a new turn. Growing awareness of the ecological benefits of recycling in all fields fuelled interest in “recycled” (or repurposed) clothing. “Since the 1990s, as a backlash to globalization, recycling clothing has been a way of intervening in the ongoing supply of new consumer products,” comments fashion theorist Jennifer Craik.68 Although numerous designers experimented with ideas of repurposing old garments into bold new high-fashion styles during this period, Martin Margiela and Lamine Kouyaté—working under the labels Maison Martin Margiela and XULY.Bët, respectively—were two especially well-known designers within the genre. Both were featured in an exhibition held at The Museum at FIT in 1994–5, entitled Hello Again: Recycling for the Real World, which included clothes, home furnishings, and other objects made from repurposed or recycled materials. At that time, Margiela and Kouyaté each donated several important pieces of their work for inclusion in the museum’s permanent collection. These objects exemplified a new type of avant-garde, one-of-a-kind clothing, and their design concepts remain integral to today’s sustainable fashion industry. 75

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Figure 3.13  Yesterday’s News, an in-store boutique at upscale New York department store B. Altman, opened in 1970. This two-piece dress dates to the same year. The dress was made from vintage rayon fabric in a bold, geometric print, dating to c. 1930. The accent bands in rust-orange and black were made from new rayon fabrics. Although the ensemble itself was newly made, it was styled in a “retro” fashion, emulating the look of a 1920s sportswear ensemble. Thus the dress successfully combined two prevailing trends of its era—the wearing of vintage clothing, and the contemporary reinterpretations of past styles. It is not clear if this piece was one-of-a-kind, as the amount of vintage rayon that was available is unknown, but at most, it would have been part of a limited run of such styles. Yesterday’s News (Harriet Winter), dress made from vintage fabric, multicolor printed rayon, orange rayon, black rayon, 1970–1, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 94.27.146. Gift of Harriet Winter.

Belgian-born, Paris-based designer Margiela—referred to as “fashion’s founding father of recycling” by fashion journalist Suzy Menkes69—began showing work under his own label in 1989. From the label’s inception, Margiela’s unique, critical perspective on the traditional fashion industry was evident. T-shirts were crafted from cut-up plastic bags,70 and his first runway show was held in a crumbling, abandoned warehouse in Paris. To showcase his fall 1992 collection, the designer staged a runway presentation within a Salvation Army store,71 where guests sat atop pieces of used furniture and among racks of secondhand clothing. Although the setting was atypical, it was appropriate, as many of Margiela’s designs were made from discarded items. “Maison Martin Margiela is partial to materials with a momentary character and to throwaways of little commercial value. Such materials do not hide the course of time, but carry along the traces of a garment’s previous life and incorporate it in the new item,”72 observed fashion curator Kaat Debo, who organized an exhibition to celebrate the Maison’s twentieth anniversary in 2008. “Many of Margiela’s ‘raw materials’ are fashion detritus when he starts with them: second-hand or army surplus clothing is the commodity form with the lowest exchange value in the fashion system,”73 writes fashion theorist Caroline Evans. Yet Margiela’s completed garments exemplify how such “lowly” objects can be ingeniously (and even somewhat simply) transformed, leaving one to question the perceived value of any material.​ 76

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Figure 3.14  In this group of objects in the collection of The Museum at FIT, Margiela’s process of assembling a woman’s sweater from old army socks is demonstrated. The designer made no attempt to disguise the raw material from which the sweater was formed—in fact, he emphasized the process by providing versions of the sweater in various stages of completion. Margiela began with a simple bundle of socks. The socks were then cut and pinned together to form an intricate patchwork, which slowly took the shape of the female torso. Finally, the patchwork was refined and stitched into a completed garment. Margiela masterfully utilized the shape of each sock to guide its placement in the pattern of the sweater: the contours of the sock heels, for example, formed the curves of the elbow, shoulder, and bust. Installation shot from Eco-Fashion: Going Green (The Museum at FIT, 2010). Maison Martin Margiela, sweaters made from socks, army green wool, Fall 1991, France. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 2008.80.1, 95.19.1, and 95.91.2A. Gifts of Stella Ishii and Maison Martin Margiela.

Although it was officially announced that Margiela had left his namesake label in December 2009, the Maison continued to explore avant-garde design. The spring 2013 Artisanal Collection74 featured the 1920s beaded dresses remade into stunning new ensembles that, in some cases, scarcely hinted at their origins. As style​.c​om reported, “The process involved restoring the beadwork, then bonding it to a trench, a ‘cigarette line’ coat, or a K-Way windbreaker jacket,”75 to create pieces that resembled outerwear, while other vintage dresses were cut and reassembled with contemporary materials to create entirely new silhouettes. The last three of the nineteen looks in the collection were made from thousands of metallic candy wrappers, painstakingly embroidered onto a silk backing to give the dresses an unusual, dimensional effect that took seventy hours to complete.76 The collection was generally well received, but the ethics surrounding the deconstruction of seemingly beautiful historic dresses became a subject of debate among fashion historians, as the origin and condition of the original dresses were unknown. There has been little such debate, of course, over Margiela’s destruction of army socks. Regardless, the reuse of vintage garments adhered to the beliefs of Martin Margiela himself. When questioned about his use of secondhand clothes in 1993, the designer explained, “Often they are too small to wear today. I like to collect old clothes and give them another life. When they are lying here, they are dead.”77 Lamine Kouyaté debuted his line of repurposed clothing in 1992, as part of the first major XULY.Bët collection.78 A native of Mali (although he presents his collections in Paris), Kouyaté cites his background as the reason for his interest in repurposed fashion. “It’s an African—and any Third World Nation’s—philosophy to use things up. You don’t waste anything, but create new from old,”79 he explained in a 1994 interview. Kouyaté’s clothes are assembled from a mix of garments he purchases at thrift stores, flea markets, and discount stores. The designer does more than simply alter the clothes he acquires, however, often deconstructing and reassembling them to the extent that their original function is not apparent. Kouyaté’s selection of unique materials ensures the exclusivity of his designs, 77

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Figure 3.15 This XULY.Bët ensemble includes a dress made from an irregular patchwork of mismatched, patterned sweaters. A heavy woolen winter coat, cropped at the waist, is worn over the dress. The final layer of the outfit is a wrap jacket in bright red nylon, assembled from old pantyhose—a signature of Kouyaté’s work. The lightweight jacket is worn stretched over the coat, creating an intentionally bulky appearance that questioned conventional notions of beauty and the idealized body. XULY.Bët (Lamine Kouyaté), dress and jacket made from repurposed materials, multicolor sweaters, brown wool plaid, red nylon, Fall 1994, France. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 95.7.1. Gift of XULY.Bët.

thereby imbuing them with one of the fundamental characteristics of couture clothing. Yet the designer’s work eschews the exacting craftsmanship that is another keystone of couture. He reassembles the existing garments in a manner that deliberately calls attention to their deconstruction—using coarse, bright red thread to highlight seams, for example, and leaving the original tags from the repurposed clothing intact and exposed.​ Around the turn of the millennium, research into sustainable fashion and textiles, including reuse and recycling, started to gather pace. A notable event in the development of this research was the 2007 exhibition Ever & Again: Rethinking Recycled Textiles. The exhibition was the result of a three-year research project which brought together textile designers to explore upcycling through theory and practice, led by British designer-researcher Rebecca Earley.80 Earley’s work for the exhibition, an example of which is shown in Figure 3.16, was part of her Top 100 project, which upcycles polyester blouses through print design. The project is developed via a series of minicollections, with a different narrative or concept explored in each grouping. Earley initiated Top 100 in 1999; the project is still ongoing, now as a collaborative means of experimenting with diverse circular design approaches. Each item that Earley works with is flawed or undesirable in some way. “A single stain means that a number of these otherwise high-quality garments are quickly discarded by a certain type of customer,”81 she noted in 2009. A New Era of Fiber Recycling As discussed earlier in the chapter, the recycling of textiles back to fiber form has a long history but went into decline in the second half of the twentieth century. In recent decades, however, recycled textiles have made a comeback, and a few manufacturers have shown remarkable innovation. One major development was the 78

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ability to produce polyester fleece material from recycled plastic bottles, an idea pioneered in the 1970s82 and refined in the following decade. Recycled fleece has rarely made its way into high fashion (although Vogue declared that “models can’t live without Patagonia’s fleece vest” in its January 1998 issue83), but it has been a great success, especially for use in casual clothing. Recycled polyester fabric is often marketed as a sustainable option, and it is estimated that recycled polyester could reduce emissions by up to 32 percent in comparison with virgin polyester.84 However, there is a drawback to the approach of using PET bottles to make polyester fiber. There is an effective closed-loop recycling process for PET bottles which enables them to be recycled up to ten times,85 while the clothing industry is still a linear system: only a tiny fraction is currently recycled into new clothes.86 Thus, as journalist Emma Bryce puts it, “Converting plastic from bottles into clothes may actually accelerate its path to the landfill.”87 A genuine fiber-to-fiber recycling system is needed but has not yet been achieved. As the Fossil Fashion report published in 2021 states, “many brands would have us believe they are moments away from ‘closing the loop’ on fashion and achieving ‘true circularity’ for the industry—a promise that is still very far from being fulfilled in reality.”88​

Thinking Critically Practices of reusing and recycling clothing and textiles have many important benefits, including prolonging the life of a garment, the reduction of environmentally harmful production processes, and the minimization of waste. In fact, this chapter is unusual within this book, in that we have outlined very little obviously problematic practice. Yet if we take a step back and examine reuse and recycling practices through a critical lens, various issues present themselves. For example: in the global North, materials cost little, and labor, in relative terms, costs a lot. Thus, the skilled labor involved in many activities that support reuse—particularly repair and repurposing—can make these options seem expensive in comparison with the new clothing that is readily available on the high street. This situation is very different from the accounts of reworking in centuries past that were outlined earlier in the chapter; at that time, it was the high value of materials in comparison with labor costs that enabled repeated refashioning. Turning to secondhand clothes, while the popularity of vintage fashion is encouraging, we must note that, as cultural theorist Angela McRobbie wrote in her study of secondhand apparel, “for every single piece rescued and restored, a thousand are consigned to oblivion.”89 The reality is that growing volumes of clothing production have generated an influx of clothing, much of which has little or no resale value. Although we might imagine that the clothes we donate to charity are resold locally, vast quantities of these donations are shipped overseas. As Andrew Brooks explains in his book Clothing Poverty, since the 1990s commercial operators have been exporting clothes from the West to Africa, Eastern Europe, Latin America, the Middle East, and Asia. A total of 4.1 million tonnes of used clothes were exported globally in 2017, equivalent to a staggering 33.4 billion t-shirts. The United States and the United Kingdom were the first and second-largest exporters.90 As shown in Figure 2.1, this imported clothing has a massive impact on the locations where it is processed, such as Kantamanto Market in Ghana. It not only generates huge volumes of landfill waste but also harms local textile industries. Orsola de Castro, the cofounder of Fashion Revolution, argued in 2019 that these imports “have absolutely wiped out a huge quantity of local, artisanal infrastructures. So we’re talking weavers, spinners, ginners and artisans who, for millennia, have been producing local cloths with local traditions.”91 The notion of a “circular economy”—in which materials circulate continuously, being used and reused time and time again—is a seductive vision. However, it is crucial to highlight just how far we are from that goal at present. Although most textiles are entirely recyclable, 73 percent of waste clothing was incinerated or went 79

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Figure 3.16  This blouse is part of Rebecca Earley’s Top 100 project. It was printed using a heat photogram technique, creating patterns of leaves and honeycombs. The blouse extended over the hips (fitting somewhat like a tunic), and its waistline was emphasized by the addition of multiple sash ties in varying widths and patterns. Not only did these techniques give the blouse a fashionable new look and silhouette, but they also successfully disguised any flaws that may have caused it to be discarded by its previous owner. Rebecca Earley, Ever and Again shirt upcycled from used blouse, multicolor heat photogram-printed polyester, 2007, England. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 2010.42.1. Gift of Rebecca Earley.

to landfills globally in 2015. Just 12 percent was recycled into low-value textile applications such as mattress stuffing and less than 1 percent was recycled back into clothing.92 Some would question how realistic the idea of “closing the loop” can be; the complexity of the fashion system means that there are multiple opportunities for materials to “leak” from the reuse cycle. Furthermore, it must be noted that fiber recycling is not without its own environmental footprint. Even the reuse of secondhand clothing has implications in terms of resource use and waste, particularly if items are transported over long distances, dry cleaned, and repackaged. Reuse and recycling are undoubtedly powerful strategies for sustainability within the fashion system. However, if they are deployed without consideration of ecological limits to industrial activity and the need for a dramatic reduction in overall resource use, there is a danger that the root causes of unsustainability in the fashion system will not be addressed. Therefore, it is essential that we maintain a critical view, remembering that secondhand, repurposed and recycled clothing is not automatically or unequivocally “good.” Historical examples of resourcefulness, as shared in this chapter, provide valuable and varied inspiration for ways in which clothing and fabrics can be valued and altered over the course of many years, often via small-scale, resourceful practices that are located in the home, in community spaces, and in micro-scale workshops. These examples help us to shift away from a focus on production and purchase and instead develop an understanding of fashion as an ongoing and dynamic negotiation with the garments already in our wardrobes. 80

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Figure 3.17  This chic mini dress by Norwegian designer Per Åge Sivertsen’s high-fashion label FIN is made from a luxurious, innovative fabric blended from recycled polyester and organic cotton. Like most fiber blends, the fabric was designed to capitalize on positive features of both fibers: the drape and longevity of polyester, for instance, with the porous qualities and softness of cotton. FIN (Per Åge Sivertsen), dress, grey/blue organic cotton and recycled polyester, summer 2010, Norway. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 2010.10.2. Gift of Per Sivertsen of FIN.

Further Reading As this chapter has argued, there is much to be learned by delving into past practices of clothing reuse. Old Clothes, New Looks: Second-Hand Fashion, edited by Alexandra Palmer and Hazel Clark (Berg, 2005) is an excellent place to start, with twelve chapters exploring secondhand clothes from the Italian Renaissance to the twentieth century, in a varied range of cultural contexts. Two valuable sources for diverse insights into the twenty-first-century secondhand clothing trade are Fashioning Indie: Popular Fashion, Music and Gender by Rachel Lifter (Bloomsbury, 2019) and Clothing Poverty: The Hidden World of Fast Fashion and Second-hand Clothes by Andrew Brooks (2nd edition, Zed Books, 2019). To learn about the alteration of clothing in the past, the historical sources referenced in this chapter will be of great value. “Altered historical clothing,” an article by Linda Baumgarten in Dress journal (Volume 25, Issue 1, 1998, pp. 42–57) includes many fascinating examples. Mend! A Refashioning Manual and Manifesto by Kate Sekules (Penguin, 2020) offers a vibrant profile of the contemporary mending scene, along with historical insights.

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C hapter 4 LABOR PRACTICES

Action toward sustainability in fashion is not restricted to environmental impacts: it includes consideration of the fashion system’s impacts on people, and particularly on those who work in all stages of garment production, from the harvesting of raw material to the packing of a finished garment. Many garment and textile workers face a myriad of problems, including poverty wages, a lack of job security, unsafe workplaces, and gender discrimination.1 Fashion Revolution—a worldwide activist movement created in the wake of the Rana Plaza disaster that killed 1,134 people, mainly young female garment workers, in Bangladesh in 2013—encourages wearers to ask brands: “who made my clothes?”2 The complexity of fashion supply chains means that this apparently simple question can be difficult to answer. The vast majority of garments are made far from where they are sold: 97 percent of apparel for the US market is now produced outside its borders.3 Furthermore, production of raw fiber, fabric, other components, and garment typically take place in a number of different locations. As Fashion Revolution explains, “This is a problem because fragmented and opaque supply chains can allow exploitative and unsafe working conditions to thrive while obscuring who has the responsibility and power to redress them.”4​ In response to the problems associated with complex supply chains, some brands are choosing a strategy of intentional transparency. Everlane, for example, offers what it describes as “radical transparency”: the web listing for each garment links to a page describing the factory in which it is made, including details of the factory’s sustainability credentials. Everlane audits each factory to evaluate factors like fair wages, working hours, and the environment. The brand also provides a cost breakdown for several bestselling products, showing the material and labor costs for each item.5 Another option being explored by businesses is the use of blockchain technology, which creates a secure and unalterable list of entries, to record details of every step of production from fiber through to garment.6 Some brands prioritize local production. British knitwear designer Genevieve Sweeney, for example, produces her entire range—as shown in Figure 4.2—in the UK, working with hand-selected mills and factories around the country. Transparency is easier when supply chains are shorter, and customers may feel more assured that garment workers are treated appropriately if they are working within a country with a minimum wage and employment protections enshrined in law. Alternatively, clothing companies can build relationships to provide greater assurance of workers’ rights. One practice that has been adopted by a number of designers is a collaboration with cooperatives or collectives of makers, often women, living and working in impoverished areas. Fashion label ReCreate, for example, manufactures its garments in a workshop in Dey Tmey, Cambodia. The label was founded in 2013 as a way of providing fair employment, training, and empowerment within this marginalized community. ReCreate partners with a Cambodian nongovernmental organization (NGO) to provide a number of initiatives including family support, school sponsorship, medical assistance, and clean water.​ This chapter discusses the treatment of garment and textile industry workers from the nineteenth century onward, placing contemporary labor practices in historical context. We have already discussed some of the health problems encountered by workers in dyeing facilities in Chapter 1. Here, we will focus on textile and

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

Figure 4.1  Fashion Revolution encourages wearers to use social media to ask brands who made their clothes, with the aim that transparency will improve conditions for garment workers. This image was posted on Instagram by Fashion Revolution activist Katherine Smallwood to ask high street brand Urban Outfitters about the origin of her clothes.

garment production. The fashion and textile industry has long been criticized for disregarding the health and safety of its workers, paying them inadequate wages, and employing children. Although progress was made in the twentieth century, old problems resurfaced as the search for cheaper labor shifted manufacturing to new locations. Responses to these challenges, whether via unionization of workers or alternative strategies, also have a long history and thus can serve as inspiration for contemporary action.

How Did We Get Here? In this section we will explore the development of the contemporary fashion and textile production system, examining two environments where work is performed: mills, which produce textiles, and factories or shops, which produce ready-made clothing. Rapid increases in mechanization from the late eighteenth century to the early twentieth century triggered a shift from small-scale textile and garment production in the home to centers of manufacture in mill towns and urban tenements and factories. Child labor, sweatshops, and subcontracted work, along with opaqueness in the production lines, plagued the industry in its earliest days, and their continued presence in the current centers of garment production demonstrates history of the very worst kind repeating. Textile Mills In Chapter 2, we outlined the mechanization of textile production and the development of mills for the mass production of yarn and cloth. These mills were set up first in England and then in the United States, where 84

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Figure 4.2  Genevieve Sweeney, a knitwear designer specializing in geometric hand intarsia, manufactures her entire range in the UK. She aims to showcase the artisan skills and quality of the British knitwear industry and advocate for small local mills.

cotton mills sprang up in places like Pawtucket, Rhode Island, and Lowell and Lawrence, Massachusetts. Silk mills were established as well, most notably in Paterson, New Jersey, a town dubbed “Silk City” during its peak in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries.7 Women formed the core of workers at many mills, particularly in Lowell, Massachusetts, perhaps one of the most recognizable names in mill towns. For a time, Lowell’s mills had a rather good reputation.8 Hours were lengthy and the work tiring, but efforts were made to maintain ethical standards and adequate housing,9 and the comparatively good pay drew many farmers’ daughters to work there.10 Even so, there were problems under the surface. In the 1845 article “A Second Peep at Factory Life,” which appeared in The Lowell Offering, a periodical organized by the mill’s employees, the reader was allowed to eavesdrop on a group of fictitious workers as they complained about wage reductions.11 The article’s narrator admitted, “There are objections to the number of hours we work, to the length of time allotted to our meals, and to the low wages allowed for labor.” The author hedged her criticism, however, resignedly declaring that “every situation in life, has its trials, which must be borne, and factory life has no more than any other.”12 One trial faced by the workers in Lowell during this decade was an increase in their already long working hours. As Benita Eisler noted, the women of Lowell’s mills faced 75-hour weeks.13​ By the early twentieth century, the southern region of the United States had absorbed a significant share of the production of yarn and cloth in mills that formed there after the Civil War.14 In his 1906 study on the rapid industrialization of North Carolina, Holland Thompson summarized the benefits of southern manufacture. The “favorable” labor conditions in the development of Southern mills stemmed largely from the following: “The labor cost has been less, due partly to lower money wages, partly to longer hours, and finally to the 85

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Figure 4.3 New Zealand-based label ReCreate runs a sewing workshop in Cambodia, providing training and fair employment to its workers. The people in the local community previously lived in slums in the capital city of Phnom Penh, but in 2007 were moved by authorities to a rural site with few opportunities, particularly for women. One hundred percent of the label’s profits are used to empower disadvantaged people and communities in Cambodia. Here we can see creative director Marielle van de Ven teaching pattern-making skills to workshop manager Srey Leak Reath and other members of the sewing team.

absence of strikes and other forms of industrial friction.”15 He noted that after 1890, a number of the new Southern mills were “branch mills,” opened by extant “Northern manufacturers,”16 no doubt to profit from those very conditions. Irrespective of location, mill conditions were worsening, with workers facing long and strenuous workweeks. A report by D. A. Tompkins at the end of the nineteenth century put the figure at eleven hours per day in North Carolina mills.17 In no uncertain terms, Thompson said of his state’s mills, “the hours of labor . . . are long.”18 His statement could be more or less universally applied. The pay was also low. As compared to their counterparts in New England, Southern mill workers earned significantly less; in the case of women who spun yarn, half, at US$3 in contrast to the $6 earned north of the Mason-Dixon line.19 Yet comparisons aside, Victoria Byerly and Steve Dunwell have both observed that, as a whole, historically textile workers have always had some of the most meager salaries.20 Holland Thompson, however, defended the industry, concluding that turn-of-the-century textile workers were not “wretchedly paid” and could earn more in mills than in agriculture.21 Though difficult to determine because pay varied by the skill of worker, Thompson estimated that a mill family, on average, could earn around US$10 or $15 a week.22 Nonetheless, the pay was still paltry; one reported salary around 1912 for seventy-two hours of work in a North Carolina mill was US$3.23 In addition to the long workday and inadequate pay, mill conditions were often dangerous and unsanitary. Some defenders declared this to be the province of only a few unscrupulous employers. Tompkins wrote in 1899, “Every good superintendent has been trained to know that a dirty mill cannot turn out first-class product.”24 Yet the images and the remembrances of mill workers often contradict 86

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Figure 4.4  This sheer white dress is representative of the cotton dresses that were frequently worn in the earliest decades of the nineteenth century. It speaks not just to fashion trends, but also to the development of cotton mills, and the growth in production, during the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries—first in England, where this dress was produced, and then in the United States. Dress and spencer jacket, white cotton, c.  1819, England. Collection of The Museum at FIT, P88.28.2. Museum purchase; shown with Paisley shawl, wool and silk, 1820–50, possibly Scotland. Collection of The Museum at FIT, P86.71.2. Museum purchase.

Tompkins’s rosy claim. Cotton dust, or lint, was a serious problem in mills. It covered the floors and filled the air, and its inhalation could cause mild to severe respiratory problems. Cotton dust was so pervasive a problem within the history of textile production, that it was one of the earliest concerns of the Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA), formed in the United States in 1971.25 Clara Thrift, who worked in mills during the second half of the twentieth century, recalled that the thread was the chief concern of the mill owners, not the cleanliness of the conditions to which workers were exposed.26 Accidents with mill machinery were also common. Maneuvering the quickly moving machinery could easily result in a severed finger, crushed limb, or worse. Women with long hair risked catching it in moving machinery, which could literally pull the scalp from their heads. Less dramatic, but of no less import, were the physical sufferings caused by excessive heat and physical overexertion. Prior to unionization and in the absence of regulatory oversight, workers in these early mills had little recourse and few advocates, so they often simply endured chronic exposure to the various dangers of their work.

Child Labor Although the majority of workers were women, children also formed a large contingent of the nineteenth century and early twentieth-century workforce. As others have noted, child labor has existed since the textile mill industries were burgeoning,27 and it was not exclusive to the textile industry, or even manufacturing. “Industrialism does not create the phenomenon,” wrote Thompson, “but concentrates

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it, and changes the form, regularity and intensity.”28 Some mill employees were as young as eight years old. Termed “apprentices” or “helpers,” children often accompanied their parents to the mill, to help with small tasks. According to Hugh Hindman, author of Child Labor: An American History: “The ‘helper system’ enabled the mill to gain production from very young children and to train the workforce of the future while disavowing a direct employment relationship.”29 A. J. McKelway, secretary for the Southern States of the National Child Labor Committee in 1911, derided the hypocrisy surrounding the exploitation of helpers: “It will be evident to the most superficial observer that the injuries to a child under twelve years resulting from working a twelve-hour day or a twelve-hour night are greatly lessened if his name is not carried on the payroll!”30 In cotton mills, Thompson observed, children were concentrated in the spinning rooms.31 Though statistics could be unreliable, “observation . . . shows the extensive employment of children.”32 He noted the percentage of child labor was correlated with the number of spindles operated by the mill.33 In the autobiography, Through the Mill, the Life of a Mill Boy, Frederic Kenyon Brown, writing under the pseudonym, Al Priddy, recounted the backbreaking conditions children faced in the mills during the late nineteenth century. About two years under the legal age of thirteen when he began working at a mill in New Bedford, Massachusetts, Brown was at first eager and excited to work. It seemed an adventure, and even preferable to other ways of making money.34 Initially, his work was rather light—cleaning cotton from the floors or oiling machinery.35 It was when he was moved to the mule spinning room that “the terror of the mill began to blacken my life.”36 The conditions Brown described were abhorrent. He recalled the cruel bosses who forbade employees from speaking, sitting down, or opening a window to combat the extreme heat:37 “The mule-room atmosphere was kept at from eighty-five to ninety degrees of heat. The hard-wood floor burned my bare feet. . . . To open a window was a great crime, as the cotton fiber was so sensitive to wind that it would spoil. (Poor cotton fiber!)”38 Choked by lint, the child could also have been easily maimed—and some of his peers were—by the moving machinery, they sometimes had to clean.39 During the 1980s, writer Victoria Byerly conducted interviews with Southern mill workers, the results of which are published in Hard Times Cotton Mill Girls. A number of the women interviewed had started working at the mills at young ages. Bertha Miller, one interview subject, began at age 11 and recalled being “so little that they had to build me a box” to reach the machine.40 Another regretted the education sacrificed to work in the mills. Around 1911, “the biggest portion of the spinners was kids back then,” remembered Bertha Awford Black, who also began work at age 11, although she noted, “the girl that trained me was younger than that.”41 Some writers characterized the preference for and benefit of lowly paid child laborers in the Southern mills as merely a “phase.” Said Leonora Beck Ellis in 1903, “manufacturers . . . are learning the lesson that it is a false economy, with expensive practical as well as ethical results,” arguing that adults were simply more conscientious workers and in the long run, their work was the most cost-effective for employers.42​ Garment Factories Life in the US ready-to-wear industry’s tenement shops and factories was often little better than the conditions in textile mills. The increasing mass production of clothing, discussed in Chapter 2, brought with it a host of concerns, not unlike those faced by mill workers. Much of the work of the garment industry was conducted in the small, overcrowded, and often filthy tenement homes, which housed the industry’s largest immigrant population, or in similarly poor, unsafe, and unsanitary conditions within larger factory shops. Jacob Riis, in the influential exposé, How the Other Half Lives, first published in 1890, recounted that tenements in New York numbered some “thirty-seven thousand” and “more than twelve hundred thousand persons call them home.”43 Abraham Bisno, who as a young man in the 1880s worked in similar conditions 88

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Figure 4.5  There are perhaps no more evocative images concerning millwork and child labor than the photographs of Lewis Hine, taken under commission for the National Child Labor Committee. This somber young girl stands stoically between machines far taller than she is. Cotton litters the floor around her. A print of this image, which probably dates to 1909, now resides in the collection of the New York Public Library. The handwritten text on the reverse of the image identifies the child not by name, but as a ten-year-old spinner in a North Carolina mill.

in Chicago, described succinctly the viciousness of industry conditions faced by garment workers. Many of these workers had: A bare living, long periods of idleness, unreasonably hard work during the season, poor and unsanitary shops, crowded, many of them on fifth floors of buildings, with no fire protection or elevators, poorly lighted, working by gas all day with the strain of eyes, and great assault on the vitality of the workers, with lung tuberculosis pervading the trade.44 As we will discuss later in the chapter, unions, with advocates including Bisno, were eventually formed to combat the low wages, long hours, and often unsafe conditions faced by garment workers in such “sweatshops.” The term has many connotations: a hot, crowded space; mistreated workers; and repugnant working conditions. Today, we could safely define a sweatshop as any working environment in which the production of goods is carried out through violation of any aspect of fair labor, whether that is wages, hours, or conditions of work. The word’s origin is a little more peculiar, however, and actually derives from the system of production. The term “sweater” referred to a “class of middlemen, or contractors,” who acted as a liaison between the manufacturer and the “sweated” worker. These workers, explained the New York Times in 1895, “did work by the piece in shops or in their own homes, and were tempted to long hours by the extra pay to be made. Out of these conditions grew up what is known as the sweat-shop system.”45 Yet, but for “perhaps . . . the accidental possession of two or three sewing-machines,” the sweater, as Riis observed, was not so different from those whose sweat he profited from.46 Abraham Bisno noted too that 89

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Figure 4.6  This photograph from around 1910 shows two women and two men working in an early garment shop. The term “sweat-shop” derives from this era when middlemen known as “sweaters” acted as a liaison between the manufacturer and the “sweated” worker. This work was characterized by low wages, extremely long hours, and often unsafe conditions.

in a perverse way, the sweater, though his behavior was bad, was important in building up the trade and supporting immigrants.47​ Although Bisno may have occasionally played devil’s advocate, he recognized fully the degradation brought by such conditions. The piecework system under which so many garment manufacturers operated drove down wages through competition among desperate workers.48 In factory shops, some limitations on child labor and working hours might exist, but not so in the tenements.49 “The child,” Riis wrote, “works unchallenged from the day he is old enough to pull a thread.” Even workers in the large factory shops frequently did homework after hours to supplement their meager wages.50 The labor of poor garment workers made comparatively inexpensive ready-to-wear fashion accessible to greater numbers of people during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The shirtwaist, a feminized version of a masculine shirt (often worn tucked into a long, dark skirt), is an example of a popular, democratic garment, and one that was easily mass-produced. An example is shown in Figure 2.7. While women might profit from the availability of affordable fashion, the Ladies’ Garment Worker, a union journal, urged its readers and the larger public to consider the origins of their fashionable shirtwaists and their own role as consumers. “Do you ever stop to think where, how and by whom the thousands of shirt waists you see on sale all over the city are made?” it asked; “Do you know that 45,000 women and girls in New York alone are employed in making these waists? Do you realize that the conditions under which these girls work, the wages they receive, the hours they spend at their machines depend directly on YOU?”51 One dressmaker considered these questions; shirtwaists sold for so little that they baffled her. In 1900 she went undercover in a shirtwaist factory to try to understand how these inexpensive, ready-made garments were produced, and her story was recounted in the New York Times. Paid by the piece, she earned some money, “but it would have been some time, even with the experience she had already obtained in the exercise of her profession, before she could have made what she would have considered living wages.” Wages motivated her fellow workers, she noted, to perform their tasks with “wonderful rapidity,” but she was unaccustomed to the pace of the work: “It did not seem possible that a human being turned into such a mere mechanical organism 90

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could live. To the dressmaker, it did not seem possible that this one could exist long under such conditions. But this is the way clothing is made at such low prices.”52 The anonymous dressmaker’s account revealed that a large number of women worked in the shop, but gave no real detail about the conditions of the workplace or the number of hours that she and her colleagues worked. She mentioned no outrageous practices, aside from the low wages and accounts of workers being docked for damages to the shirtwaists.53 Yet the brief report is telling. It is an admission that something is materially sacrificed in producing goods cheaply and quickly. This woman may have been lucky in comparison to others toiling perhaps blocks away under far worse conditions. Even in conditions presumed to be superior, there is an acknowledgment that it is not possible to produce very cheap clothing without a human cost. In the spring of 1911, this human cost became more apparent than ever. The aforementioned shirtwaist became symbolic of the problems within the industry, as its production was implicated in one of the era’s greatest industrial tragedies. On March 25, 146 people, mostly women, were killed in a deadly, fast-moving blaze at New York City’s Triangle Shirtwaist Company. The factory had a confluence of unsafe building conditions. The Ladies’ Garment Worker, at the time the organ of the International Ladies’ Garment Workers’ Union, rightfully noted that a similar tragedy might have occurred in any number of factories, as “most of the garment manufacturing establishments in New York City are not any better as far as fire protection is concerned.” However, they continued, “It is significant that the worst calamity happened at the Triangle, known among the workpeople in the trade as the ‘prison.’”54 On the day of the fire, locked doors blocked the exits, and many women jumped in desperation—fatally—to the street below.55 It was “an event which horrified not only the needle trades but also the whole nation,” recalled Vogue’s Edna Woolman Chase.56 Globalization and Sweatshops As we will discuss in the next section, coordinated actions via labor unions led to what sociologist Robert Ross terms an “era of decency” in terms of working conditions in garment production from the 1940s to the 1970s.57 However, the situation was set to deteriorate again in the following decades. In 1941, M. D. C. Crawford noted that “the nature of the industry is such that without a constant surveillance the evil [sweatshops] might return.”58 Crawford’s words proved to be prophetic: the drive for cheaper labor and the globalization of production meant that sweatshops experienced a major resurgence both in occurrence and public awareness from the 1980s onward. We have already seen that in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, mill owners moved their mills to the southern United States in response to labor cost pressures. Garment manufacturers followed suit in the early twentieth century, leaving cities like New York in search of more “favorable” conditions. The 1925 publication, The Clothing and Textile Industries in New York and Its Environs, Present Trends and Probable Future Developments, discussed the trend of manufacturers fleeing the city: “The chief motive for moving . . . is the desire to escape from the union, and to secure cheap and docile labor.”59 These motives were just as strong later in the century when manufacturing started to shift overseas. In 1960, 93 percent of clothing sold in the United States was made in America,60 but this figure was soon to change. High import levels were prominent in the periodic press releases on garment industry conditions published by the International Ladies’ Garment Workers’ Union in the 1970s when they noted an “erosion” of domestic apparel production, and in the 1990s, by which time the pattern seemed fully established.61 Abuses, like those that plagued the American garment industry in the nineteenth century, were not uncommon at foreign garment plants—and that remains the case today. The low wages, long hours, and poor, unsafe, or unsanitary working conditions faced by textile workers of the past are the norm for their counterparts in countries around the globe that lack stringent regulations. Conditions thousands of miles away are harder to monitor, and often easier for consumers to ignore. 91

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Sweatshop conditions were not restricted to the countries in which large-scale garment manufacturing was being newly established; they also returned within the United States, due to the global downward pressure on labor costs. There were an estimated 3,000 sweatshops in the New York area alone in 1987.62 A decade later another source put the figure of workers in sweatshops at 100,000, with 70 percent of those in Los Angeles.63 Targets of exposés and protests included The Gap, Guess?, Nike, and television host Kathie Lee Gifford, whose Wal-Mart clothing brand was associated with child labor and sweatshop conditions in Honduras, as well as allegations of unpaid labor in a New York factory.64 In Los Angeles, SK Fashions so grossly violated labor laws by keeping its Thai workers imprisoned in its factory that the press likened it to modern-day slavery.65 A strong sense of déjà vu pervades even a cursory perusal of press coverage of garment worker issues in the late twentieth century—writers noted the similarities, as did worried union officials. The president of UNITE, a garment workers’ union, cautioned against “a replay of turn-of-the-century conditions.”66 In investigations into the factories that produced for Federated and May department stores, UNITE discovered “sub-minimum wages, child labor, sexual harassment, overtime without pay, locked fire exits, and industrial homework,”67 a list of offenses that could easily be a century old. Low standards were detrimental to the entire industry, foreign and domestic. New York garment worker Nelly Pacheco told the union publication, UNITE!: “Working conditions in my shop were fair until sweatshops mushroomed in the Garment District. Sleazy competition forced our employer to cut wages, stop paying overtime, and abuse his workers just to stay in business.”68 Unfair, unethical, and sometimes downright abusive treatment continues to plague the globalized industry. Recent research on factories in Tamil Nadu, India uncovered severe ethical violations with regard to labor practices. Female garment workers, some of them children, contend with long hours and little earnings, often deceived by promises of a dowry payment that fails to materialize.69 Although a century has passed, little seems to have materially changed, besides location. The notion of “apprenticeships” still complicates

Figure 4.7  Factories and shops like this one, in Dhaka, Bangladesh, have become the new norm—or rather, a return to the old, merely a new incarnation of a persistent problem. The small and crowded shop is reminiscent of some of the conditions that were observed during the nineteenth century. The boy in the picture, Fazul, is just nine years old; child labor in garment production is clearly an ongoing issue. 92

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the problem of child labor in the industry. As a 1994 US Department of Labor report discussed, the word’s connotation is good—”learning the skills and disciplines of an occupation, which will be his or her lifelong trade.” If legitimate, apprenticeships can be very beneficial, but it remains “one of the most controversial forms of labor” because the term can be easily used as a façade for child labor abuses.70​ Subcontracting and Safety The subcontracting of work—mentioned in the introduction as a barrier to ensuring good labor conditions— is another practice that has a long history within the garment industry.71 In 1925, New York researchers complained of the industry’s use of “contractors or sub-manufacturers” and the “intense competition .  .  . with consequent reduction in prices sometimes even below production cost” it generated.72 The problem has been exacerbated as contractors and subcontractors have moved farther afield, and the subcontracting from employer or manufacturer to middleman “sweater” is still prevalent. In an interview with the New York Times, Robert B. Reich, US secretary of labor under the Clinton administration, described the problems inherent in “networks of contractors and specialized subcontractors” which exist as part of the “the garment ‘food chain.’” A brand might contract to a manufacturing company, which in turn farms out parts of production to someone else, making the chain more and more convoluted—and harder to monitor.73 Yet subcontracting has endured partly because it makes it easier to pass the buck on the responsibility to the contracted factories. “The inside manufacturer disclaimed all responsibility for the evils of the sweatshop,” wrote Benjamin Stolberg in the chronicle of the garment industry, Tailor’s Progress, “insisting that he was not the employer of the workers in the contract shop.”74 Disasters in mills and factories offer a further parallel between the working conditions of a century ago and those of today. There have been many tragic fires at factories in garment-producing regions in recent years, with disturbing similarities to the Triangle Shirtwaist Company fire. A fire at the Chowdhury Knitwear Factory in Bangladesh in 2000, for instance, killed fifty-one workers, some of whom were children. A number of employees jumped fatally “out the windows to escape the flames.”75 A decade earlier, eighty employees of a Chinese raincoat factory met a similar fate.76 During a fire at Ali Enterprises in Pakistan, which claimed the lives of more than 260 people in September 2012, workers faced locked exits and barred windows. As Ali’s facilities had recently been deemed safe by inspectors, the tragedy also laid bare the shortcomings of monitoring systems. According to the New York Times, the visit was preannounced and workers “coached to lie about their working conditions, under threat of dismissal.”77​ Apparel workers at Spectrum Garments, in 2005, and Rana Plaza, in 2013, both in Bangladesh, were victims as buildings collapsed.78 Some writers have rightly noted the similarities of these recent tragedies with the collapse (later followed by a fire among the ruins) of the Pemberton Mill in Lawrence, Massachusetts, in 186079—a building that was by all accounts thoroughly “unsound,” and unable to bear the load of machinery and the workforce. Shortly after that tragedy, the London Times issued the following caution, which is just as applicable today as it was then: “Let the calamity be a warning to manufacturers and architects throughout the world. Too much care cannot be expended on structures in which the lives of hundreds are exposed day after day amid the unavoidable dangers of machinery and steam.”80 Events such as those described earlier may spur discussion—and even action—but the problem is entrenched. There are few obvious answers, much less simple ones. In 2013 labor activist and advocate Charles Kernaghan, who has been at the forefront of discussion on these topics since the 1990s, told Women’s Wear Daily that when it comes to labor conditions and workers’ rights “we are racing backward.”81 And it is not just regression: as Kernaghan noted, on some levels conditions have worsened. As he pointed out, “garment workers in Bangladesh earn less than one-tenth of the wages earned over 100 years ago in New York.”82 93

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Figure 4.8  A fire at Ali Enterprises, a garment factory in Pakistan, claimed the lives of more than 260 people in September 2012. In 2020 a court ruled that two men intentionally started the fire after the owner refused to pay a bribe. Workers were trapped by locked exits and barred windows, despite the premises being deemed safe by inspectors. This photograph, taken after the court’s verdict, shows protesters carrying pictures of their relatives who died in the fire.

Inspiration for Change Having looked at the development of labor problems in mills and factories in the eras of domestic and globalized production, we can now turn our attention to initiatives that address these problems—whether through activism and trade union action or by establishing different kinds of relationships between designers or brands and the workers who produce their goods. As we will explain, ideas that are presented as progressive solutions today often have historical precedents. Unionization As described in the previous section, the deadly fire at New York City’s Triangle Shirtwaist Company in 1911 horrified the nation. Although company owners were never convicted on criminal charges, the tragic incident became crucial to labor reform. Legal scholar Arthur F. McEvoy has noted that the fire “finally made possible the kinds of regulation over working conditions for which reformers had been struggling for some time.”83 McEvoy argued that it was the high visibility of the accident that made the difference. People could not simply ignore the dreadful sight of the fire’s unrecognizable victims spread out on the ground.84 In a horrible irony, shortly before the tragedy, workers at the Triangle Shirtwaist Company had been at the forefront of a strike for better conditions. The Ladies’ Garment Worker proclaimed that as a result of the strike, “every girl employed in these waist shops, feels instinctively that she is not to be slighted or trifled with by the firm, and that there is a power outside ready to take her part.”85 For some, this was the case. When Leon Stein, the foremost researcher on the fire, interviewed survivors, blouse operator Mary Domsky-Abrams recounted leaving her machine slightly early that day to change into street clothes, against the orders of her manager— her will having been steeled by participation in the strike.86 But others saw the results as not so very great, and 94

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Figure 4.9  One-hundred-forty-six people, mostly women, were killed in a deadly, fast-moving blaze at the Triangle Shirtwaist Company in New York on March 25, 1911. The factory, known in the trade as the “prison,” had various unsafe building conditions. In this photograph, we can see fellow garment workers mourning—and protesting—the devastating loss of life. This industrial tragedy, still remembered today, became crucial to labor reform.

the tragedy was proof of that fact. In his chronicle of the fire and its aftermath, Stein quoted reporter William Shepard’s remark, that “these dead bodies were the answer,” to the workers’ recent struggle.87​ Union membership often did empower individuals, giving them backing and the support of a collective of their peers. As Abraham Bisno put it, “when a union was organized, the spirit of the people rose and the price for labor was increased materially.”88 Historically, one of the most important unions within the garment industry has been the International Ladies’ Garment Workers’ Union (ILGWU), founded in 1900. Early on, the union faced the problem of how to exert widespread influence on an industry in which small shops, which took little funding to organize, sprang up continuously. As Max Meyer explained, the “union allegiance in such a shop is naturally weak,” and its immigrant staff were often “only too ready to accept employment below union standards.”89 Nonunion shops maintained their competitive edge in this way, and those who cooperated with the union rightly complained that their interests could suffer as a result.90 One of the key points of debate during the 1916 meetings of the ILGWU and the Ladies’ Waist and Dress Manufacturers’ Association was how to address this problem. Julius Henry Cohen, counsel for the association, questioned: “What we want to know is what is the Union going to do to make the Union cover the entire industry? What does it intend to do to make the standards already existing enforceable and enforced throughout the industry?”91 The vehemence of their disagreement on issues—wages, hours, and the relative failings of the other party—in the minutes of the conference is sometimes palpable. Yet even if disputes were seemingly deadlocked, the existence of the forum, and the presence of discussion, bargaining, and compromise, was an important step in addressing the rights of workers. 95

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Despite the inroads made by unions, sweatshops were once again a serious problem during the financial crisis of the Great Depression. “Even the strongest unions were placed on the defensive, able to do little more than slow the downward turn of wages,” wrote Joel Seidman in The Needle Trades. He continued, “Scarcely able to resist, they watched the emergence of sweatshop conditions in the industry comparable to those of the nonunion era a generation earlier.”92 “Women are not mean, but getting clothes cheaply has become a sort of game,” wrote journalist Marjorie Howard in 1933. Consumers, she continued, “do not realize what it means to other women working in the sweatshops.” According to Howard, higher price points relieved the suffering of workers.93 By 1941, conditions seemed to have improved, as M. D. C. Crawford observed that the word sweatshop “stands for an evil condition somewhat vague in outline”—a sight unfamiliar.94 Regulations, such as child labor legislation and the Fair Labor Standards Act of 1938, as well as the persistence of unions, helped to ameliorate the worst abuses and make sweatshops the “vague” entity Crawford had described. “Only a Pollyanna would say that perfection had been reached,” said the New York Times in 1939, “but the garment industry can count on at least two things: employers do not lock out their employees, and when workers decide to sit down it is not inside a factory, but around a conference table.”95 In marked contrast to tenement slums, the ILGWU of the mid-twentieth century provided cooperative housing to some of its members, in addition to health care, and regulated conditions of employment.96 The union, too, also helped assure proper wages for the work its members performed. Nan Robertson described the union’s method of bargaining in 1956: “The labor cost of each new style is hammered out behind locked doors between manufacturers and the International Ladies’ Garment Workers’ Union. Every buttonhole, pleat, collar, pocket, and seam must be priced. The sum of these prices is what the machine operator will receive for making the garment.”97 Labeling Of the ILGWU’s many efforts, perhaps the one best remembered by the populace is its union label campaign. Meant as a visual certification of labor standards, former ILGWU president David Dubinsky characterized it as the “signature” of union members.98 The campaign was an updated version of an idea introduced by consumers’ leagues in the early decades of the twentieth century, which advocated for labeling and other measures to guide the public. They felt that consumer knowledge was key to addressing the ills that plagued the industry. The “real manufacturer is the woman who goes shopping,” proclaimed Mrs. Frederick Nathan, who was in 1912 the president of the Consumers’ League of New York City. A National Consumers’ League had existed since 1899 and had developed a label to mark certain goods made under accepted conditions and without the labor of children under sixteen. But as Florence Kelley, its 1925 general secretary, noted, the adoption of such labels was not then widespread within the industry.99 The “Prosanis” label, a measure of the Joint Board of Sanitary Control, in tandem with the ILGWU, was conceived as a tool, or a guideline, for shoppers to ensure that work conditions were safe, fair, and as the name indicates, clean. It was also meant to benefit those manufacturers who maintained “civilized industrial conditions” over the cheaper sweatshop alternative.100 The question was: Given two frocks of equal style and value, will the shopper care enough for the working members of her own sex who have bent over whirling machines to fashion it for her, to say, “I shall take the one with the Prosanis label: I know it means that no worker has been exploited to make it for me”?101 Consumer advocates hoped the answer would be yes. The development of the “Prosanis” label was not just about the conditions of the workers, however. It was also imbued with the public fear of tuberculosis 96

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transmission from worker to consumer via purchased goods. “Consumers,” Mrs. Nathan had written some years before the introduction of the “Prosanis” label, “do not go about inculcating their fellow citizens with tuberculosis germs but, by purchasing clothing made in sweatshops, they encourage conditions which lead directly to the same results.”102 The pulmonary infection tuberculosis was linked in the public mind to the garment industry, and its sweatshop workers and tenement dwellers were prone to the disease. By 1925, according to one article, New York City was the source of three-quarters of ready-made “dresses, coats and suits,”103 swelling concern over the issue. The label was to be “a guarantee of protection, alike for shoppers and workers, against disease-bearing garments.”104 Sentiments related to consumer awareness and empowerment against sweatshops continued through the 1930s. It was championed by figures like Eleanor Roosevelt, who likewise supported labeling initiatives,105 and fashion show events were organized during the 1920s and 1930s to draw attention to ethically produced clothing. Although it did not have the connotation of consumer fear, the “New York Creations” campaign of the New York Dress Institute in the 1940s served a similar purpose to that of the relatively short-lived “Prosanis” label. Funded by manufacturers and unions,106 the New York Dress Institute was at its core a promotional body for the New York garment industry, so its label and its motives were not wholly altruistic. Marketing New York’s style cachet, initial advertisements emphasized the high quality of craftsmanship and attractive design.107 However, the “New York Creations” label did signify that marked garments were all locally manufactured and adhered to union standards of fair labor and quality. The plan, which went into effect after July 1941, involved the cooperation of the 800 manufacturer members of the New York Dress Institute, and the ILGWU, who set the labor standards adhered to, and whose moniker was featured alongside the “New York Creations” logo.108 As Harper’s Bazaar explained, “[The label] assures you that your dress has been made under sanitary working conditions. A solid guarantee that no one has worked long hours overtime, and no one has been unfairly paid for his or her labor, no one has been gypped to turn you out so smart and pretty for Saturday night.” “New York Creations” were also “a unique step in the history of employee-employer cooperation,” according to the magazine.109 As implied earlier, unions and industry do not always agree; “friendly enemies” was the way one manufacturer preferred to characterize the relationship.110 But the fact that workers in the global North are protected by better regulations and have unions and consumer groups to advocate for them—whether they always succeed in their efforts or not—is an advantage that many foreign workers or illegal domestic workers simply do not have.​ Designer-led Action While the history of the garment industry is rife with bad labor practices, it is heartening to recognize that there have also been industry leaders who maintained and encouraged good practice and fair treatment of workers—whether in their own ateliers or in the industry at large. Let us consider three such designers who were active in the first half of the twentieth century: Madeleine Vionnet, Max Meyer, and Elizabeth Hawes. Madeleine Vionnet is one of the most lauded fashion designers in history; her name is virtually synonymous with the pioneering use of the bias cut in the 1930s. Cecil Beaton recalled, “Vionnet was a genius in the way she used her materials.” So fluid were her designs, that “women dressed by her were like moving sculpture.”111 According to M. D. C. Crawford, Vionnet’s beautiful dresses were not the only legacy for which she deserved praise. He wrote: “she had a deep and sincere interest in the welfare of her workers, and even in her greatness she remembered the conditions of those who worked with their hands for a living. She never overlooked their interests in favor of her own profits.”112 Vionnet had begun working as a seamstress at age eleven, experiencing firsthand the poor working conditions that existed not only in American ready-to-wear factories but also in the Parisian dressmaking industry. Vionnet’s treatment of her employees at the atelier Vionnet et Cie was 97

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Figure 4.10 The New York Dress Institute was a promotional body for the New York garment industry. The institute’s advertisements emphasized the quality of craftsmanship, as evidenced in this elegant evening dress. Its symmetrical floral print is pattern matched and the hem is hand sewn. The “New York Creations” label used by the institute signified that garments were locally manufactured and adhered to union labor standards. New York Dress Institute, evening dress, printed red rayon crepe, rhinestones, seed pearls, c. 1941. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 76.100.11. Gift of Mrs. Harold E. Thompson.

indeed as innovative as her clothing. Scholar Betty Kirke, who conducted exhaustive research on Vionnet, is right to call it progressive. Before others were doing so, Vionnet offered her employees the unique perks of coffee breaks and paid time off, in addition to benefits, which included complimentary medical and dental care and maternity leave.113​ Max Meyer worked in ready-to-wear manufacturing in New York City, where he emigrated as a child. He spent his career at A. Beller & Co., which manufactured high-style ready-to-wear based on foreign models. As was the norm in that era, Meyer began work as a boy of fourteen in 1890. He later recalled one of the tasks assigned to him: “one of my jobs . . . was to take bundles of cut garments over to the East Side and into the filthy tenements . . . I can still recall the sights of poverty, misery, and human degradation.”114 Like Vionnet, this early experience seems to have shaped Meyer, who became a leading labor mediator and arbitrator, remaining active in such pursuits even after his retirement from the industry in 1929.115 Meyer was also an advocate of education, active in the beginnings of the Central High School of Needle Trades (now High School of Fashion Industries) and the Fashion Institute of Technology, both in New York.116 He championed cooperation between unions and employers: “The continued existence of any agreement, new or old, is dependent on two strong organizations, a workers’ union and an employers’ association, each respecting the other,” he wrote in an article for the New York Times in 1915, under the modest byline “Max Meyer, One of the Manufacturers.”117 98

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Figure 4.11  This stunning example of Madeleine Vionnet’s work during the 1930s is typical of the neutral color palette she favored, as well as her celebrated craftsmanship. Vionnet, who had experienced poor working conditions when working as a seamstress, had a notably progressive approach to supporting her employees, including medical and dental care, paid time off, and maternity leave. Madeleine Vionnet, dress, ivory silk georgette, c. 1931, France. Collection of The Museum at FIT, P83.39.7. Museum purchase.

During her lifetime, Elizabeth Hawes experienced many facets of the fashion industry. She once worked for a house that made its profits copying designs from Parisian couturiers such as Vionnet. She also worked as a fashion journalist for The New Yorker under the pen name “Parasite.” Later, she was the head of her own custom dressmaking salon in New York, Hawes, Inc. During the Second World War, she was a war worker and once served in the education division of the United Auto Workers union.118 Hawes had a deep interest in economics and “labor problems,” which stemmed as far back as her days as a student at Vassar College.119 Sharply intelligent, Hawes was as prolific a writer as she was a designer. Her book Why Women Cry, or Wenches With Wrenches recounted her experiences within the wartime aeronautical industry, but also pondered the subject of the balance of women’s labor inside and outside the home. Her most famous book Fashion Is Spinach is a memorable critique of the fashion industry. In its pages, she mentions the plight of immigrant garment workers—“the skilled craftsmen and women of the American couture.” On Seventh Avenue, in New York City proper, workers “are organized, that hated word”—unionization hated by the industry because it ensured higher wages and a reasonable workday. Yet Hawes also noted the continuing problem of unfair treatment: “Out of town they are sweated and exploited, kicked and underpaid.” Hawes was not shy about pointing out the flaws in an industry in which workers still “hive in cellars where they get [US] $9 a week for fifty-four hours of sewing up your $4.95.”120 99

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Labor Rights in a Globalized Industry The resurgence of labor problems in the late twentieth century prompted a resurgence of union action. UNITE (the Union of Needletrades, Industrial and Textile Employees) was formed via a merger between the ILGWU and the Amalgamated Clothing and Textile Workers Union in 1995. The new union included as part of its mission statement a commitment to global labor advocacy.121 “Either workers’ standards go up throughout the world,” it argued, “or our own standards go down.”122 UNITE had a five-point plan to fight sweatshops: “retailer responsibility; stepped-up enforcement including confiscation of goods; basic labor standards for overseas production; laws that don’t discourage undocumented workers from asserting their rights; and consumer refusal to purchase sweatshop goods.”123 Over a decade later, Bruce Rayner echoed similar statements to Women’s Wear Daily.124​ Phrases like “Corporate Social Responsibility” and “Codes of Conduct” are often bandied about in relation to labor rights. In the 1990s, many apparel companies adopted such codes in response to the growing backlash against sweatshop exploitation, but even as they grew in number, experts noted the difficulty of monitoring and enforcing.125 Many observers believe enforcement efforts are flawed and ineffective.126 Likewise, a labor department report in 1996 cautioned not to view the codes as a “panacea.”127 Charles Kernaghan put it more blatantly: “Voluntary corporate codes of conduct do not work!” He called them “one of the great scams that allowed outsourcing to proliferate across many developing countries that have no concrete intention to respect internationally recognized worker rights and safety standards.”128 For organizations like the Clean Clothes Campaign, which advocates for the rights of workers, and for all groups and individuals working toward reform, it is an uphill battle. There seems to be a consensus that the approach must be multifaceted. Robert Ross, in his detailed study of historical and modern sweatshops, Slaves to Fashion, proposed that the industry follow “three pillars of decency,” which revolve around unionization, governmental policy, and the efforts of reformers and consumers.129

Figure 4.12  Coordinated action via trade unions continues to be a powerful route to achieving better conditions for garment workers, but many garment-producing countries restrict the right to organize. It can be particularly difficult for homeworkers— informal workers who make fashion goods in their own homes—to connect with their peers. This photograph shows a Thai homeworker, Rattana Chalermchai. Rattana formerly worked in a garment factory and now supplies hand-made flip-flops to a resort. She is a member of HomeNet Thailand, an organization that campaigns for the rights of informal workers. 100

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It should be noted, however, that there does exist another point of view on labor issues. Some economists, such as Jeffrey Sachs and Paul Krugman, have argued that sweatshops have benefits in raising the economies of poor countries.130 Kelsey Timmerman, who traced the origins of the clothing in his wardrobe for his book Where Am I Wearing?, noted a similar realization about child labor in his observations of life in developing countries, questioning the morality of outlawing child labor if it means that the child and their family starve.131 The fact that workers are caught between starvation and a sweatshop, argues eco-fashion scholar Sandy Black, makes for “a complex situation which is ethically unacceptable.”132 Ross, too, has refuted what he termed “the better than” defense.133 Advocating sweatshop conditions because other options or consequences are worse is “uncivilized, unrestrained by moral boundary,” Ross maintained: “‘Better than’ is a slippery slope.”134 Cooperatives and Fair Trade As outlined in the introduction to this chapter, one approach to the problem of labor rights is to establish cooperatives or collectives to ensure good working conditions. This is not a new idea. In 1968, for example, a woman’s cooperative, Mountain Artisans, was established in Appalachia, historically one of the poorest regions of the United States. Operating as a nonprofit, Mountain Artisans recruited West Virginia women and gave them “the designs, the patterns and the materials,” while the women supplied their needle skills.135 A renewed interest in traditional crafts, such as the time-honored quilting techniques

Figure 4.13  Mountain Artisans, a women’s craft cooperative, redirected its members’ quiltmaking skills to the creation of fashion garments. In the decade that the collective was operating, it helped more than 300 women to support their families and stimulated the economy in Appalachia, a historically deprived area of the United States. Mountain Artisans’ clothing, such as this hand-made patchwork skirt, was sold in high-end New York stores such as Bergdorf Goodman.136 Mountain Artisans, patchwork skirt, multicolor cotton, c. 1968, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 92.171.6. Gift of Michael Dykeman. 101

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Figure 4.14 This evening dress is designed by Carlos Miele and created by the Coopa-Roca collective in Brazil. The dress, called Fuxico, is named for the Portuguese word for “gossip,” but the word is also used to refer to the intricate rosettes, seen over the body of the dress, that are hand-stitched by the circle of women who converse as they work.137 Installation shot from Eco-Fashion: Going Green (The Museum at FIT, 2010). Carlos Miele, Fuxico evening gown, brown and ivory silk, Spring 2008, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 2010.48.1. Gift of Carlos Miele.

practiced by the Appalachian women, was linked to the burgeoning environmentalist movement, and likely contributed to the group’s visibility and success. Mountain Artisans were honored with a Coty Award in 1972 for their contribution to American fashion. Another notable example is the collaboration, running since 1999, between designer Carlos Miele and the Coopa-Roca collective in his native Brazil in the making of Miele’s luxury fashion line. This partnership not only provides employment to local artisans but also preserves traditional Brazilian crafts.​​ Establishing fair trade partnerships is another means of supporting sustainable practices. In principle, fair trade overlaps with concepts related to collectives, as both provide employment for workers and fair wages through an ongoing trade relationship.138 A 2003 Women’s Wear Daily article attempted to elucidate the meaning of fair trade to its readers, as it was often “misunderstood or unknown” to manufacturers. The trade journal summarized fair trade as follows: “in addition to wages, fair trade promotes cooperative workplaces; consumer education; environmental sustainability; financial and technical support; respect for cultural identity; and public accountability.”139 The prominent eco-label, Edun, founded by rock musician Bono and his wife, Ali Hewson, in 2005, was based on fair trade principles. The brand worked with communities in Africa, South America, and Asia. Hewson explained her motivations for focusing on fair trade clothing, telling The Times (London) in 2006, “I really don’t want to wear clothes created from someone else’s despair.” Thinking Critically The history of labor conditions within the fashion industry is a difficult read: it serves as a cautionary tale, reminding us that progress toward sustainability—in this case, the social dimension of sustainability—can be reversed when the context changes and old battles may have to be re-fought. Many hope that greater 102

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transparency within the garment supply chain will lead to improvements. However, as sustainable fashion researcher Alice Payne explains, “transparency and traceability are not sustainability goals in themselves; rather, they are a means to ensure that the ethical claims made by a brand are defendable.”140 Change, therefore, depends on fashion and textile companies committing to improve their employment practices. Although it is generally thought that transparency drives standards up, Kenneth P. Pucker, the former chief operating officer of Timberland, argues that “reporting is not a proxy for progress” because there are inevitably errors and inconsistencies in the results generated. Moreover, he suggests that reporting may hamper progress as it distracts from the “changes in mindsets, regulation, and corporate behavior” that are essential for a more sustainable fashion system.141 The alternative models for collaboration between brands or designers and makers perhaps offer more hope and indeed many examples of such collaboration are inspiring in terms of their efforts to deliver social good through fashion production. As we have seen in the case of the Mountain Artisans cooperative and the Carlos Miele/Coopa-Roca collaboration, these initiatives often involve the use of a traditional local craft, adapted to suit contemporary tastes and trends in consumer markets. This strategy has a long history: there are countless examples of crafts being commercialized and refined as a means of economic and social development, stretching back to at least the nineteenth century.142 Yet problems can arise in initiatives of this type, particularly when there is an imbalance of power between collaborators, or when the intervention is temporary rather than based on long-term relationships.143 Furthermore, we might question the wisdom of drawing communities into the mainstream fashion system by creating dependence on the whims of distant consumers—which could potentially erode locally rooted ways of creating and wearing clothes, which are likely to be inherently more sustainable. Finally, we must once again return to the argument that a fashion system governed by an ethos of growth is inherently unsustainable. If we are to address this issue and shift to a more sustainable scale of production and consumption, what will happen to the millions of workers who depend on the industry for their livelihoods? This is a huge problem—but it cannot be used as an argument to maintain business as usual. Instead, we must pursue what is described as a “just transition.” First developed in the 1990s by trade unions to support workers affected by environmental protection policies, this concept has since developed into a “deliberate effort to plan for and invest in a transition to environmentally and socially sustainable jobs, sectors and economies.”144 There is much work still to be done in exploring options for a just transition within the sphere of the fashion system. Further Reading Firsthand accounts can provide evocative visions of life working in textile mills. Hard Times Cotton Mill Girls: Personal Histories of Womanhood and Poverty in the South by Victoria Byerly (ILR Press, 1986) and Through the Mill, the Life of a Mill Boy by Al Priddy (The Pilgrim Press, 1911) are two excellent sources to seek out. To learn more about the deadly fire at the Triangle Shirtwaist Company in New York, look for “The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire of 1911: Social Change, Industrial Accidents, and the Evolution of Common-Sense Causality,” an article by Arthur F. McEvoy in Law & Social Inquiry (Volume 20, Issue 2, 1995, pp. 621–51). To gain insights into labor conditions in the fashion industry in the twenty-first century (as well as in the past), we recommend Slaves to Fashion: Poverty and Abuse in the New Sweatshops by Robert Ross (University of Michigan Press, 2007). For the most up-to-date information, follow trusted campaigning organizations in the sector such as Remake: https://remake​.world. 103

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C hapter 5 TREATMENT OF ANIMALS

In the previous chapter, we considered the impact of the fashion system on those who produce our clothes. Here, we turn to the animals that are implicated in our dress practices. While we chiefly focus on ways in which these animals are treated—and the debate regarding whether animals should be used at all—it is important to acknowledge that materials derived from animals have environmental impacts. The processing of leather, for example, is notoriously dirty and its effluent must be carefully monitored. Leather products are often treated with hazardous chemicals, notably chromium, a non-biodegradable heavy metal, and sulfides, which must be filtered from wastewaters. Copious amounts of salt are utilized in the processing of hides, presenting a major challenge for leather manufacturers, as the release of excess saline in wastewaters can damage surrounding ecosystems.1 Furthermore, as with other materials, the use of leather raises issues relating to waste. Preconsumer waste includes the organic matter and hair produced by the processing of hides, along with offcuts created in the construction of garments and accessories. Further considerations include ways to encourage reuse and recycling, and how to manage appropriate disposal.​ A core consideration when we consider the relationship between animals and fashion is welfare: the conditions in which animals are kept. Welfare issues arising within the context of wool production were highlighted in Chapter 1, including the practice of mulesing (the removal of wool-bearing skin from the tail and breech area of some breeds of sheep). Silk production was also mentioned in Chapter 1. Tussah (also known as ahimsa, wild, or peace) silk places an emphasis on animal welfare because cocoons are collected after the silkworm has abandoned them. Cultivated silk is boiled to harvest the fibrous cocoons, killing the silkworm inside.2 Materials made from skin, such as leather and fur, of course, necessitate the death of the animal, and welfare considerations, therefore, encompass the way in which the animal is killed. As described in Chapter 4 in relation to working conditions, the complexity of fashion supply chains means that it can be difficult for wearers to find out about the production of their goods: the same is true of animal welfare issues. Josefin Liljeqvist, who founded her eponymous footwear brand in 2015, sees traceability as a powerful strategy to drive up standards in animal protection. Each of the brand’s pieces has a code that provides details of the farm, the philosophy of the farmers and the welfare of the animals.​ One way to mediate the use of animal products in fashion is by subscribing to the belief that by-product materials, such as leather (from beef production) or shearling (from lamb production) are acceptable because animals are primarily killed for their meat. The wearing of vintage is often touted as another alternative to purchasing new animal products: when it comes to animal materials such as fur and leather, it may offer some consolation to consider that the animal was killed long ago. Abstaining from the vintage product will not resurrect the animal, but its purchase in principle may prevent an animal’s death in the future. Of course, many people wish to avoid animal products altogether and therefore may turn to synthetic options such as fake fur and synthetic leather. Synthetic leather is conventionally made from oil-based materials including PVC, with associated environmental problems in production, use, and disposal (see Chapter 1). Bio-based alternatives are gaining ground, such as materials made from mycelium, plants, and lab-grown collagen. Piñatex®, an innovative natural textile made from waste pineapple leaf fiber, is used as a leather substitute by

Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion

Figure 5.1  At this tannery in Mato Grosso state, Brazil, cow hides are being processed via chrome tanning. Leather production in Brazil has been linked to deforestation of the Amazon, which has devastating consequences in terms of climate change and biodiversity loss.3

Figure 5.2 Swedish footwear brand Josefin Liljekvist has produced the world’s first traceable leather footwear. The brand works exclusively with Swedish family-owned farms with the highest standards in terms of animal protection, the environment, and biodiversity. In addition, the leather is vegetable tanned and scars on the skins—usually regarded as imperfections—are purposely used, “to salute the signs of a life well lived.”4 As the shoes are intended to last a lifetime, they are constructed to enable repairability. 106

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Figure 5.3 This hand-embroidered perfecto jacket by French fashion label Lo Neel5 is made from Piñatex®, a nonwoven textile made from waste pineapple leaf fiber. Production of the pineapple fiber provides a new source of income for farming communities in the Philippines. The fiber is blended with a corn-based polylactic acid and formed into a nonwoven mesh which is finished using GOTS-certified pigments and a resin top coating for additional strength, durability, and water resistance.

fashion and accessory brands as well as in the interior and automotive contexts. The textile was developed by Carmen Hijosa, a leather goods expert who was first motivated to investigate a sustainable alternative to leather while consulting on the Philippines leather export industry in the 1990s.6​ This chapter explores the historical use of animal products in fashion, discussing arguments both for and against their use, as well as the emergence of cruelty-free alternatives. We focus on two key categories of animal product use: feathers and furs. As we will see, it was feathers—not furs—that caused greater outrage during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, sparking debate about the ethics of using animals for fashion products and the development of strategies that still resonate today.​

How Did We Get Here? Throughout history, we have adorned our bodies with various animal materials. In this section, we will examine the use of these materials in the United States from the nineteenth century to the late twentieth century. We will first look at the use of feathers as millinery adornments, with a brief discussion of other accessories made from tortoiseshell, ivory, and reptile skins. We will then consider the use of fur and explore the debates that arose during this period around the trapping of wild animals and the farming of animals for their fur. Feather Adornments Feathers have been popular embellishments for centuries but reached a peak in demand for adornments on ladies’ hats during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, alarming many ornithologists, environmentalists, and animal lovers. In 1886, the zoologist and ornithologist J. A. Allen speculated that “In 107

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Figure 5.4  For her PhD research, designer Naomi Bailey-Cooper developed novel textile embellishments based on the historical and contemporary attraction of fur and exotic animal materials. This dress, made from cruelty-free ahimsa silk organza, is embellished with feather-like adornments created using spun glass and wild rubber. Bailey-Cooper’s innovative approach to embellishment was informed by case study research at the Victoria & Albert Museum archive.

this country of 50,000,000 inhabitants, half, or 25,000,000, may be said to belong to what are not only of birdwearing age, but—judging from what we see on our streets, in public assemblies and public conveyances— also of bird-wearing proclivities.” Even with a conservative estimate of only one bird per woman, “‘made over’ so as to do service for more than a single season,” he continued, “still what an annual sacrifice of bird-life is entailed!”7 In February of 1886, an oft-cited letter from ornithologist Frank M. Chapman appeared in the publication Forest and Stream. Based on observations conducted during two walks in New York City, Chapman calculated that 77 percent of hats were decorated with feathers. While Chapman’s “appended list of native birds” contained forty types of bird, including the common tern (a seabird) and songbirds, such as the robin and blue jay, he noted that many feathers or bird parts could not be identified.8 Part of the difficulty in identifying which birds had been used was the popularity of “composite plumes” in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. “Composite plumes,” read a 1907 article in the New York Times (via the London Chronicle), “are the most fashionable, and wings are of such remarkable size and hue that it is obvious that no birds could have supplied the plumage.”9​ An article appearing in Science described the complexity involved in determining “the actual statistics of bird-slaughter for millinery purposes.” The figures, while hard to substantiate, were high. Of herons or egrets, whose slaughter by and large seemed to attract the most publicity during this period, they noted: “the statistics . . . could they be presented, would be of startling magnitude. We only know that colonies numbering hundreds, and even thousands, of pairs, have been simply annihilated.”10 Millinery advertisements, they noted, attested to the volume of the bird materials on the market. Hat makers and vendors were plentiful, and so too their advertised goods.11 Millinery manufacturer and importer Thomas H. Wood and Co., for instance, included in its offerings for 1897–8 “a full and attractive line of ostrich tips, plumes, and boas, birds’ wings, quills, fancy feather novelties.”12 Throughout the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, Vogue and other fashion magazines, as well as trade publications, readily covered shifting style trends in millinery and corresponding shifts in demand for different types of birds. A “novelty” for the fall of 1897, for instance, was pheasant bodies “placed in a position of such natural repose that one is almost afraid to approach it lest it might take its flight from its nest 108

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Figure 5.5  The decoration on this woven straw hat is likely a variation on the idea of “composite plumes”—feathers taken from multiple species. While the feathers may be derived from the same bird or type of bird, liberties have been taken in forming the dramatic arrangement on a built wing base. Berthe Tally, hat, woven straw, grey (possibly gull) feathers in the shape of wings, c. 1904, France. Collection of The Museum at FIT, P84.14.3. Museum purchase.

of velvet.”13 The cavalier descriptions of plumage trends—the variations on wings, beaks, and bodies—made these “fashion journals . . . not altogether pleasant reading to bird lovers or to persons of refined or humane instincts,” according to the ornithology publication The Auk.14 Fashion magazines of the period also highlighted cruelty. An article entitled “Woman’s Cruel Folly” appeared in Vogue in March 1896 that discussed the white heron or egret, and the manner in which its highly prized feathers—the “aigrettes”—were obtained. The article described the end result in strong, graphic terms. “When the killing is finished and the few handfuls of coveted feathers have been plucked out, the slaughtered birds are left in a white heap to fester in the sun and wind, in sight of their orphaned young, that cry for food and are not fed.”15 According to one source, 400 to 600 birds might be killed in one day’s hunting.16 Edward Bok, the editor of the Ladies’ Home Journal, likewise highlighted the manner in which the aigrette feather—as he called it, the “the most desired of all the feathered possessions of womankind”—was obtained.17 Yet the market continued to increase.18 Bok wrote that a “truest woman-friend” told him: “A woman will regret that the mother-bird must be tortured and her babies starve, but she will have the aigrette. She simply trains herself to forget the origin.”19​ Feathers were not the only animal product to be used in fashion accessories; materials such as tortoiseshell, ivory, and reptile skins were likewise used. Today the tortoiseshell patterning on our eyeglasses and accessories is usually rendered in plastic. As we seldom see the real thing anymore, it might be easy to forget that historically the material was harvested from sea turtles, primarily the 109

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Figure 5.6  This bird of paradise body, now part of the collection of The Museum at FIT, was intended for use on a hat. English naturalist Alfred Russel Wallace described birds of paradise as “the most extraordinary and the most beautiful of the feathered inhabitants of this earth.” The use of the birds’ feathers for adornment dates back to at least the sixteenth century; they were a favourite of French queen Marie Antoinette, who was nicknamed “featherhead.”20 Bird of paradise body intended for millinery trimmings. Collection of The Museum at FIT.

hawksbill turtle, known for the extraordinary patterning of its shell. Although it was possible to harvest from living turtles, many were killed during the process. International trade legislation now protects the hawksbill turtle, whose numbers were decimated by high demand during this period.21 Fashion’s demand, too, had a devastating effect on elephant populations.22 Although all ivory trade is strictly regulated now, poaching remains a significant problem, boosted by the black market trade.23 The uses of reptile skins, including those belonging to alligators, crocodiles, and snakes, have also been contested. All methods of obtaining snakeskin are cruel, not the least of which is live skinning,24 which some dealers believe improves the quality of the saleable skin.25​ As we will see later in the chapter, campaigns against the use of feathers by the Audubon Society—whose name was derived from that of naturalist John James Audubon—and others highlighted the many problematic aspects of the trade. The millinery industry, through outlets like trade publication The Millinery Trade Review, was persistent in its defense against what it characterized as persecution. It was argued that, at the mercy of fashion, the milliners “must supply what is demanded.”27 Plus, they noted, many popular trimmings were not from songbirds or exotic species, but from food animals: “It will interest those who have humanitarian scruples to know that the gayest plumage . . . comes from the humble barnyard, the poulterer’s shop, and sportsmen’s guns.”28 That the industry also provided work to many men and women was another touted point. Yet, said a writer in the New York Times: “The pathetic tale of innumerable poor but honest girls who would starve if the egrets and the paradise birds were protected has lost its force because of the frequency with which folks have been reminded that even when feathers are not in style the trimming of hats continues.”29 “There is very little that fair woman wears that does not cost life, and if these Audubon notions were to be carried to extremes, we blush to think of the possibilities of her future appearance,” argued The Millinery Trade

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Figure 5.7  During the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, tortoiseshell found wide use in decorative fashion accessories, such as the hair comb shown in the top of this photograph.26 Like tortoiseshell, elephant ivory could be intricately carved, and was considered an ideal material for delicate accessories, like the handle of the fan. Fan, ivory, paper, metallic foil, c. 1895, France. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 69.160.42. Gift of the Estate of Elizabeth Arden; Hair comb, tortoiseshell, c. 1880, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 2007.63.3. Gift of David Toser.

Review in 1897.30 Those extremes (of “vegetarianism”) could include relinquishing not just feathers, but silk, leather, and fur.31 It was a line of defense the publication had carried years earlier: an 1886 article questioned whether those materials, and also tortoiseshell, reptile skins, and ivory, were any less cruel than feathers.32 “Why discriminate and be filled with sentimental concern for one and not for all?”33 It was to this point that the arguments of the millinery industry and its sympathizers often returned. If feathers were cruel, were not all animal products equally so? If we eat them, why shouldn’t we wear them? In a letter to the editor of the New York Times, a writer identified as J. H. H. asked: “Do the Audubonites think it hurts a skylark more to be killed for adornment than it does a chicken for eating? Consistency, isn’t it?”34 The Use of Fur The primary use of feathers in fashion has been decorative, but one can make the argument that the use of fur is a practical choice. “To be warmly clad,” advised C. C. Shayne, a fur manufacturer in the late nineteenth century, “is not only an absolute necessity, but it is also a fact that many a doctor’s bill and many a human life may be saved” by its wear.35 Yet fur is worn in areas of the world with a moderate climate—and not just in winter weather—so practicality cannot be the only explanation for its popularity.​ As was the case with feathers, conservationists’ concern was piqued by the depletion of animal populations, and how this trend might be tied to the shifting popularity of particular furs in fashion. Among the animals whose populations were depleted at various points in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries were the beaver, chinchilla, sea otter, and fur seal—each with a corresponding link to fashion. The nineteenth-century “rage for chinchilla swept the world of fashion . . . furriers soon swept the Andes bare of the little animals,” recounted one source.36

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Figure 5.8  This handbag used not only the skin, but also the body of a small alligator. The alligator head wraps around the front flap, and its legs are affixed to the back of the purse. Its appearance may also seem jarring, not unlike the “cruel aspect” attributed to heads and tails on furs and bird bodies on hats. Handbag, alligator, c. 1938, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 2010.33.1. Gift of Rene Resnick Gratz.

The fashion industry was unconcerned by the decline of wildlife populations. C. C. Shayne, around the 1880s, advised that “fashion has been as busy in dictating styles for furry garments as in the other garments pertaining to a lady’s wardrobe.” Cavalierly, they continued, “As different races of animals become extinct before the merciless hunter’s path, the fashions in skins are necessarily changed.”37 Who was to blame: capricious fashion, its female adherents, or the “merciless hunter” striving to meet the demand? In addition to fashion, the open-air automobile, posited by Vogue in 1913, was responsible for an upswing in demand for furs, so dramatic that the publication even issued an uncharacteristic warning: “This demand has resulted in a depletion of fur-bearing animals, and, as in all cases where man has discovered that he can convert natural resources into gold, it will eventually cause their complete extinction unless more restrictive measures are introduced.”38 As we will discuss in the next section, concern about the impacts of the fur trade grew over time. Yet opinions such as those expressed earlier appear to have been the exception rather than the rule during this period. Fur was more commonly discussed in terms of its fashionableness, with little to no qualms about the animal. Discussing “the extent to which fur is to be used,” Vogue, in 1897, described the great “quantities” of fur being used as trimmings on hems, bodice revers, muffs, boas, shawls, and opera capes: “as far as the fashion goes you may trim with much or little.”39 The same article claimed that the “splendor and sumptuousness” of opera cloaks “verges on the barbaric.”40 The term barbaric, rather than connoting the cruelty or brutality that is its very definition, here seems almost praiseworthy of the decadence of fur fashions.

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Figure 5.9  Historically, fur garments have often functioned as a status symbol. The fur trimming on the collar and hem of this nineteenth-century dressing gown, for instance, would provide some warmth, but served mostly as a display of wealth. At various points during history, furs have been presented as the ultimate covetous luxury. Dressing gown, silk faille, fur, 1870s, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 82.22.1. Museum purchase.

It was the use of heads, tails, paws, and claws, features prevalent during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, which seemed most upsetting to observers. Perhaps those features made it more difficult to dissociate the fur from its former state, a living animal. “As with the birds,” an 1891 New York Times article noted, “the use of the heads, though usually in furs only ‘play’ heads made in miniature, gives an added aspect of cruelty to many of the fur garments.” The article went on to describe some of the fashions in graphic detail: “Heads with wide-open mouths and lolling red tongues lurk at every vantage point. . . . The cravattes just take the little mink or sable, head, tails and feet, and twist him, writhing round fair throats. To heighten the barbarity, sometimes his eyes are punched out and jewels set in their place.”41 Another writer was so discomfited by the styles that she urged women to buy only furs without heads: “Its absence gives one a kinder feeling toward the world, for there is nothing pleasant in looking a dead animal in the face and realizing that some one either shot or trapped it to appeal to woman’s vanity.” Preferring a state of willful obliviousness, she wrote: “If we must wear furs, don’t let us be reminded of the way in which we got them by attaching the head of the animal to its hide.”43 Many furriers and fashion writers remained unabashed. Vogue was almost flippant in describing the pervasiveness of rabbit fur in the 1916 collections. “Lo, the Poor Rabbit,” they wrote, “is there no one who will found a Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Bunnies?”44 Despite some observations of these “aspects of cruelty,” there was not yet strong sentiment against furs—although it was brewing.​

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Figure 5.10 In Les Belles Fourrures, a 1913 book of fashion plates from furrier Felix Jungmann, the illustrations celebrated the sacrifice of the fur animal for the benefit of fashion. On the left in this example we see a white fox, trapped and bleeding. Its text, translated from the French, reads: “In the white steppe, the white fox is captive. . . . Who cares for his obscure death? By gestures of grace and elegance, he will know all triumphs.”42 That his triumph is through fashion is asserted by the accompanying image of his pelt transformed into a chic fur coat.

Furs remained popular during the 1920s. The 1926 Year Book of the Fur Industry reported that it was “fifth among the huge industries of New York, and throughout the nation has more than two million souls devoted to its calling.”45 In the pre-crash 1920s, they cited “prosperity” as one major reason that furs were now “almost a necessity among those of moderate, or even small means, where, formerly, furs were the privilege of wealth alone.”46 In the 1920s, fur fashions shifted as readily as anything else. “Gone, apparently, are the days when a fur coat lasted a lifetime,” wrote The New Yorker’s Lois Long in 1926, attributing the new disposability to “the use of novelty furs, most of them lightweight and perishable, and the cuts [which] place them definitely in one season.”47 Additionally, “fur fashions . . . have never been so extravagant as they are now,” said Long.48 Vogue concurred: “One ‘sealskin sacque’ once used to be the height of any woman’s ambition, but the wardrobe of to-day which contains but one fur coat or one set of furs, is poor indeed.”49 The fur industries even actively promoted furs for summer wear. The 1919 American Album of Fur Novelties told its readers that the “summer fur is a necessity of the well-dressed woman’s wardrobe.”50 Women were determined to wear summer furs “no matter how great may be the incongruities,” wrote Janet Duer in the 1919 publication Art & Life.51​ Trapping and Farming The prevalent means of capturing animals for fur during the period discussed earlier was steel leg-hold traps, which are today banned in many places. According to one 1923 source, 6 million steel traps were sold per year.52 Such traps would often maim, trapping an animal by the leg or foot, but not immediately kill. Critics argued that it was patently inhumane to leave the wounded animal writhing in the trap until it ultimately died or was later killed by the trapper. Some terrified animals managed to escape only by chewing off a limb. Despite what we might think of this now, fur trapping had its vocal defenders. The 1926 edition of the Year Book of the Fur Industry claimed that the industry was working to develop better traps, but felt that “the suffering of animals in traps has been grossly exaggerated by many misguided enthusiasts.”53 Writer and 114

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Figure 5.11  Extravagance in furs was not the sole province of women; indeed, men, particularly collegiate ones, indulged in the expensive luxury of full-length raccoon fur coats during the 1920s, although the trend did not outlast the decade.Installation shot from Eco-Fashion: Going Green (The Museum at FIT, 2010). Left: Man’s coat, raccoon fur, wood toggles, c. 1920, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, P88.78.1. Museum purchase. Right: Opera coat, blue silk velvet, metallic sequins, bugle beads, raccoon fur, c. 1925, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 2002.78.1. Gift of Elinor Toberoff.

self-professed nature lover Agnes Laut, author of The Fur Trade in America, argued that trapping by the fur industry was far from cruel, and indeed, trappers performed a service, providing population control and eliminating superfluous males. One of her main arguments was that the industry had to use good practices to preserve its supply of material. It was counterintuitive to trap animals until the fur was prime, or if a female animal was pregnant because such poor practices would limit yields and profits.54 Frank G. Ashbrook, of the United States Department of Agriculture, put forth a similar argument: “So far as members of the fur trade are concerned, it is unreasonable to believe that they are not interested in perpetuating a natural resource which is the backbone of their business.”55 Ashbrook also offered an additional argument in defense of the fur industry which mirrors a point made by the feather industry: the numerous people who depended upon it for their livelihoods. “An industry,” Ashbrook wrote, “the finished product of which is so much in demand, scarcely needs to apologize for its existence.”56 Some campaigners argued for the cultivation of animals on farms as an ethical alternative to trapping. The first successful fur farms were started on Prince Edward Island in 1894, and initially, foxes were the only animals raised.57 According to Vogue magazine, the first US farm was founded in 1910.58 Yet the idea of raising animals for fur may have existed earlier, in theory, if not in widespread practice. In 1866, the New York Times profiled a New York State farmer by the surname of Stratton. Stratton had achieved some success in the raising of elk and had since diversified into farming of mink, with an eye toward otter and beaver. The article praised Stratton’s ingenuity in finding profit in farming “animals we have been accustomed to consider untamable.” Its conclusion: “We trust he may go on and prosper . . . we see no reason why mink and otter and beaver may not be raised by the thousand, greatly to the delight of those who want their furs, and to the profit of those who raise them.”59 115

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While Stratton may have been an anomaly, the practice of fur farming took off after its early successes. Sources claim that by 1933, there were apparently 4,500 farms in the United States and Canada, comprising 20 percent of the fur market.60 According to Lois Fenske and Dwight Robinson, most minks were trapped up until 1943, the turning point.61 In 1954, Frank Ashbrook wrote that the number of mink skins from farms had grown steadily between the years 1946 and 1951.62 The New York Times reported that fur retailer Gunther Jaeckel had its own associated farms during the mid-1950s “where 11,000 of these little beasts were pelted last year [1954].”63 By this time, fur farmers had also developed ways of breeding mink to ensure specific colors— colors that would occur naturally only occasionally, but which could be cultivated through careful breeding. According to a 1944 Time magazine article, the color possibilities were so varied that “fur men are already quipping: ‘Have a mink to match your hair.’”64 Mink was to become the fashion fur of the 1950s. In The Little Dictionary of Fashion, couturier Christian Dior reserved some of his highest praise for midcentury status symbol mink. Mink is “the best and nicest of all the furs,” he wrote, noting also, “a mink coat in certain countries is synonymous with a certain standard of life and of social standing.”65 In the film, The Lady Wants Mink, the sapphire blue mink coat owned by the character Gladys Jones cost US$7,000 and was comprised of eighty-two skins.66 If her husband had not been able to buy her a mink, Gladys told her best friend, lead character Nora Connors, then she would have taken matters into her own hands. “I’d have a mink coat if I had to stalk it in the forest with a slingshot,” she says, “or have my own mink ranch,” inspiring Nora to start one in her own backyard.67 In December 1952, Time reported that mink was outselling all other fur varieties, but that “most mink-hunting women have little idea of how or where the coats come from,” not fully understanding that the animal must be killed for its fur. According to the article, “at a mink ranch not long ago, a woman visitor asked: ‘How many times a year do you pelt the animals?’”68​ During the 1960s and 1970s, furs became more experimental, as trends such as mink miniskirts and exotic colors held sway.69 Said Time magazine, “the fur is flying as usual, but now the animals are coming from every corner of Noah’s ark in colors, forms, and designs that would make the old sable set roll over and play possum.”70 These unconventional “fun furs” would be revisited during the 1990s. But as one writer once asked, fun furs—”fun for whom?”74 A fur trend in the late 1970s echoed the “animal style” of the 1910s. Calling it the “untamed look,” Kathy Larkin, for New York magazine, wrote of the style for “unlined, jagged pelts” and “dangling rows of tails.”75 Despite the uproar by conservationists and the ups and downs in demand for furs during the previous decades, the fur industry ended the 1970s on a high note with reported sales of US$613 million.76 During the 1980s, sales surged among young, middle-class women, who treated furs as a status symbol—and an indulgence.77 According to the New York Times, the stigma was attached only to the wearing of endangered animals, and not purportedly to the use of farmed furs such as mink. “Fur industry analyst” Edward B. Keaney asserted that “wearing a farm-bred fur has become as socially innocuous as eating a hamburger at McDonald’s.”78

Inspiration for Change In the previous section we explored the use of feathers and fur in fashion; let us now examine the campaigns that challenged these practices on the grounds of animal welfare. We will consider the ways in which campaigners challenged the feather industry before looking at the anti-fur campaigns of the 1920s, the resurgence of the anti-fur movement from the 1960s onward, and the emergence of alternatives to fur products.

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Figure 5.12  This sketch shows a Ben Thylan coat to be rendered in mink or sable. In 1949, journalist Cedric Larson stated that “fur coats made of the rarer types of mink retail today for as much as [US] $3,000 and even more, although $1,000 to $2,000 is considered standard.”71 In 1959 Vogue concurred that a mink “will, and should, cost you several thousand dollars.”72 The magazine asserted that women could “rightfully expect rewarding years of flattery, euphoria, elegance—and incidentally—warmth” from a mink coat.73 Status, then, is clearly posited as the more important aspect of fur ownership.

Anti-feather Campaigns Some of the loudest voices opposing the wearing of bird feathers belonged to members of the Audubon Society. The first Audubon chapter was organized under the auspices of the nature periodical, Forest and Stream. In February of 1886, the editors ventured their idea for the new organization. Three goals were listed: “These objects shall be to prevent, so far as possible (1) the killing of any wild birds not used for food; (2) the destruction of nests or eggs of any wild bird, and (3) the wearing of feathers as ornaments or trimming for dress.”79 Forest and Stream later elaborated on some of the ways in which they strove to meet the goals outlined in their formation. One important means was to educate and sway public opinion.80 However, by 1888, this first society, initiated by George Bird Grinnell, was for all intents and purposes defunct.81 The Audubon Society successfully reorganized in the late 1890s, starting in Massachusetts and moving forward to a number of other states.82 The motivations for their campaigning probably varied from person to person, but several refrains echoed in the discussion. The ethical quagmire, which saw species facing elimination at the cost of decoration, was an overriding factor. Those who studied nature also pointed to the crucial role that birds played in many ecosystems. Birds fed on insects, which in turn helped protect local crops.83 One article described birds as “indispensible friends of agriculture.”84 According to conservationist T. Gilbert Pearson, however, it was their beauty that was loved best: “our affection springs rather from an appreciation of the aesthetic influence on our lives.”85

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As part of their work, both the Audubon Society and the American Ornithologists’ Union (AOU), another campaigning organization, became involved in discussions about ethical sources of decoration. If women wore feathers because they were fashionable and beautiful, perhaps providing alternatives that met both qualifications would stem the trend? The ornithologist J. A. Allen argued that milliners’ livelihoods would not be materially injured if other materials were sold instead of birds.86 Witmer Stone, in his report to the AOU in 1899, was pleased to report that “the milliners in many of our large cities have joined gladly with the Audubon Societies in exhibiting ‘birdless hats’ and some, notably Gimbel Brothers of Milwaukee and Philadelphia, have advocated in circulars and advertisements the abandonment of wild birds.”87 “Audubon Hats” were likewise promoted in New York City. Saks Fifth Avenue advertised them in October 1913.88 Of some styles of “Audubon Hat,” claimed one review, “The ribbon imitations of feather effects are said to be so clever that the hats lose nothing in stylish appearance by the lack of plumage.”89 Unfortunately, as Frank Graham, Jr. has noted, these hats had only a marginal impact.90 Sometimes, compromises were needed. Chapman, an active member of the Audubon Society, once conceded that “This society recommends, as far as it recommends any feathers, the use of those belonging to edible birds,”91 a category that perhaps seemed justifiable if it preserved so many others. Another option, reportedly approved by the Audubon Society,92 was the farming of ostriches for feather harvesting. Their feathers, it was claimed, could be extracted without death or excess pain. While farms in the birds’ native Africa accounted for most of the feather volume,93 by the beginning of the twentieth century, a number of animals were being farmed in the United States, in places including Arizona and California.94 According to California-based Cawston Ostrich Farm, feathers were not taken until the bird reached nine months of age, and then every nine months from then on—they were “plucked, or rather cut, for there is no pulling, merely a clipping of the quill about an inch from the body.” The dried remaining quill was later removed from the bird, and the farm’s catalog assured “there is no pain caused to the bird during the whole process of feather removal.”95​ As mentioned earlier in the chapter, the debate surrounding bird preservation was brought to the wider public via coverage that the movement received in the popular press, and in magazines widely distributed and read by women. In 1875, Harper’s Bazar published the seminal and stirring anti-plumage article, “The Slaughter of the Innocents,” which railed against those who “decorated themselves with the spoils of the forest.” Birds were beautiful creatures, but there was little beauty in them as hat adornment; they were “only ghosts of birds, mute warblers, little captives deprived of life and light and song.”97 Harper’s Bazar’s notice is markedly earlier than many others in the popular press, but the publication had by no means a perfect track record on this subject. It was at different junctures the source of criticism for its endorsement of feather fashions, and praise, for favorable coverage of the bird movement, by the ornithology publication The Auk.98 The Audubon Society and the AOU worked not just to educate, but also to push forth legislative efforts. The AOU, for instance, as early as 1886, concerned itself with the legal aspect of the movement, by drafting and promoting a model law for bird protection at the state level.99 Unsurprisingly, the trade organization, the Millinery Merchants’ Protective Association, and The Millinery Trade Review, as a soapbox for the industry, lobbied hard against all attempts at legislation, but eventually, the parties tried to reach some kind of bargain. The Lacey Bill was enacted by the US Congress in 1900. A notable provision of the act regulated the “interstate traffic in birds killed in violation of State laws,” but exempted barnyard fowl.100 The Millinery Trade Review acknowledged the “powerful influence” of the bird preservationists, who “kept the trade in constant agitation and caused it no little expense in its efforts to deny untrue statements and offset wrongful influences.”101 The milliners would agree to stop using North American birds, if the Audubon Society and its sympathizers would cease legislative attempts against barnyard and other edible and seasonal game birds, as well as non-native imported birds, which would also be exempted from the agreement.102 It was a provision to turn the other 118

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Figure 5.13  A 1907–8 souvenir catalog from California-based Cawston Ostrich Farm was forthright in presenting its feathers as a humane option. Ostriches were treated kindly over their lifespan of forty or fifty years, claimed the farm’s proprietors. The catalog includes a full double page spread entitled, “Kind to Our Ostriches: Feathers from California May be Worn Without Compunction by Humane Women.”96

cheek on imported birds that made this settlement difficult for the activists to stomach.103 No agreement was reached; “the idea of the societies seems to be that they will be looking out for the birds of this country at the expense of those of others, and it is not in accordance with their tenets to do so.”104 The millinery industry in 1903 proposed to extend their compromise to include the much-contested egret, though hardly gracefully. Charles W. Farmer of the Millinery Merchants’ Protective Association was quoted in the New York Times: “Fashion demands the aigrette, but we have decided to stop selling it, if that will satisfy the Audubon Society people, though why they should be so interested in a swamp bird which no one but the hunter ever sees, is more than I can understand.”105 Overall, agreements between the two sides were, as Robin Doughty has noted, “partial and short-lived.”106 Business coverage in 1904 reported that the Millinery Merchants’ Protective Association would not make further attempts to challenge restrictive legislation. Their position had not changed, but the public, they felt, supported the laws to a degree that “further agitation of the subject will only tend to injure the trade.”107 Legislation in 1913 later supplemented plumage law by regulating imported feathers.108 Feathered fashions would eventually wane with changing trends, as well as the decline in hat-wearing in the latter half of the twentieth century. Yet the failure to reach any substantive agreement is indicative of the divisive nature of this debate over the use of an animal product in fashion, providing a thought-provoking preface to the twentieth and twenty-first-century disputes associated with the wearing of fur. Anti-fur Campaigns Concern for animals was a moral and philanthropic issue of note during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Humane societies were formed, many initially campaigning against vivisection, a practice of medical dissection on live animals. The American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (ASPCA), 119

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for example, was founded in 1866.109 However, an 1891 article in the New York Times observed that attention toward wild animals had to that point been insignificant. “Until, however, the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals takes wild animals under its protection,” they wrote, “along with the Harlem cats and tenement-house rats, gentle woman, whose name is synonym for tenderness, will continue to adorn herself with all the furs she can pay for.”110 Yet over time, some began to equate the killing of animals for medical purposes and the killing of animals for fashion as similarly cruel. Toward the end of the nineteenth century, The Animals’ Friend, an early animal rights magazine, published a letter from “A Repentant Sinner.” Its author, a supporter of the anti-vivisection movement, described the realization that the numerous fur garments in her wardrobe made her a “vile hypocrite”: “All these badges of cruelty I wore with as little thought of how they were obtained as I should wear a lace scarf without troubling myself as to who made it . . . I blamed others for cruelty, I called myself a ‘lover of animals.’” The thought of the tortured trapped animal made her recoil: “All this . . . at the instigation of woman, that she may strip a tiny piece of fur from the back of the innocent victim. What difference is there between the victim of this fur-clad woman and the victim of the Vivisecting doctor?”111 One of the millinery industry’s chief defenses in response to the heavy criticism it received for feather use was that the same complaints were not made about fur. Yet the case for cruelty can equally be made for fur as it was for feathers. Hints of a growing awareness of this fact appear sporadically in the popular press during the late nineteenth century. Although it primarily concerned fur trends, an 1891 article in the New York Times did note that “It would seem that the charge of cruelty preferred against the ladies for their bird decorations might with equal justice apply to the wearers of furs.” 112 Fur animals, the anonymous author noted, used to be overabundant—to the point of nuisance and threat—but by 1891 the trade was supported by “the wholesale slaughter of inoffensive animals like the seal and the beaver and the Eastern lambs.”113 That the author makes mention of these points is unusual, and certainly contradictory if his purpose is recommending and selling furs. He even goes so far as to say that although no woven cloth is “comparable in warmth . . . there is but little justification for overloading with furs in a climate like ours.”114 In the 1920s Minnie Maddern Fiske, a prominent theater actress, emerged as an early animal rights activist and as an outspoken opponent of steel leg-hold traps.115 Although Fiske can be classified as an early celebrity activist on the subject of animal cruelty and fur wearing, her contemporary counterparts would criticize the stance she took on fur farming. Fiske was not entirely anti-fur, but instead advocated farms in which animals were purpose-raised and killed “humanely” by methods such as asphyxiation.116 “I want no one to get the idea that I am a sentimentalist. . . . We approach this subject from the practical viewpoint.”117 The consumer had influence, she claimed; women’s refusal to buy inhumanely trapped furs would compel the trade to change its trapping practices.118 Surprisingly, it was reported by the New York Times that the ASPCA likewise supported fur farms, and was unequivocally “not starting a campaign against the wearing of fur.” Said the paper, “we may soon become accustomed to the idea of certain animals being as generally raised for their fur as other animals are for their wool or their flesh.”119 As outlined earlier in the chapter, these arguments supported the development of fur farming in the mid-twentieth century. In the 1960s and 1970s, public sentiment began to turn. At issue was the use of a number of endangered cat species, such as leopard and tiger, which had been hunted to disturbingly low levels. Although this certainly was not the first time that animals had been hunted to near extinction, rising concern led to federal and state legislation, agreements from trade organizations, and an international embargo by the International Fur Trade Foundation.120 Eight years earlier, Time magazine had observed a “recent wild trend to leopard,” but now the industry was feeling the backlash.121 Poaching of those animals had become a serious problem for African officials. In the face of mounting pressure by environmental and animal protection organizations, 120

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wrote Angela Taylor, “the fashion press has toned down its display of spotted furs, and it takes a defiant woman, indeed, to wear a leopard coat.”123​ The list of endangered animals in the “Red Data” book—a resource produced by the International Union for the Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources—was cited as a guideline for some furriers as to which furs were off-limits. This approach was faulty, claimed William G. Conway, the general director of the New York Zoological Society. In an editorial for the New York Times, he argued that the publication was not the “sole arbiter,” nor a comprehensive account.124 Vogue’s editorial in its September 1, 1970, issue was titled “Furs, Fashion, and Conservation.” The magazine assured its readers that they recognized the dire threat to many species of wildlife. “We are deeply concerned about preserving animals threatened with extinction, and we have made and will continue to make every effort not to publish photographs showing the skins of such animals.” They would show furs that were “ranch-raised,” as well as those under conservation management programs. There was “no reason why women should not wear, and enjoy” the latter.125 For their part, furriers asserted that they were not “villains.” Depleting the fur supply was bad business practice. Isadore Barmash wrote: “Instead, [furriers] claim, they have for years advocated conservation legislation, in order to sustain the wild animal supply and preserve the endangered species.”126 With anti-fur voices prominent in the discussion, the fur industry launched the Fur Conservation Institute of America as an organ to communicate its point of view in the debate. The industry had been cooperative, according to fur manufacturers like Oliver Gintel, who reminded the New York Times that “the industry stopped using such skins as those of spotted fur animals, ocean otter, and polar bear . . . following rising outcries against looming

Figure 5.14  Exotic cat fur, such as the leopard-skin coat worn here by American actress Betty Field in 1941, was once a signifier of wealth and glamour. Yet the impact of the fur trade on the populations of such species was soon to change attitudes. In August 1970, Harper’s Bazaar noted “the threat” to wild cats “has been so real, we haven’t put a genuine spot before your eyes in three years.” What the accompanying spread of fashion illustrations celebrated were “leopard spots, jaguar spots, tiger dashes—patterns of the great cats exchanged for their lives, printed on the furs of non-endangered animals to create new and splendid species.”122 121

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Figure 5.15  In the early 1990s, model Christy Turlington posed unclothed for a now-iconic shot with the slogan, “I’d rather go naked than wear fur.”135 The slogan has been recurrent in PETA campaigns and protests, as seen in this 2007 protest in Hollywood by the Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency. PETA protesters have also thrown vegan pies,136 red paint and dead raccoons, among other objects, and have leaped onto fashion runways—the first apparently being an Oscar de la Renta fur show in 1991.137

extinction of such species.”127 While the promises with regard to endangered furs may have eased the conscience of some, they did little to placate those who opposed the use of any and all furs on ethical grounds. Although there was a seeming peace on the issue of cats, the fur industry, in conjunction with the meat production industry, simultaneously worked to “promote high-fashion in furs and also to combat anti-fur forces.”128 One of the most outspoken champions of animal rights over the past four decades has been the organization People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, or PETA, which was founded in 1980. It is now probably the most familiar name in animal rights activism. PETA’s role in the fur debate is prominent, and it was a major player as animal rights activism gained steam in the early 1990s. At its core, PETA believes that we should not use any animal products and advocates veganism. The central tenet of the organization is, “that animals are not ours to eat, wear, use for entertainment or abuse in any other way.”129 PETA has run campaigns on numerous issues, from factory farming to circus animals. Speaking in terms of fur, however, they maintain that all methods of obtaining fur are cruel, exposing conditions related to fur farming, as well as fur trapping, which although less prevalent, remains an issue. As writer Dirk Johnson pointed out in 1990, not all animal breeds were farm-raised, so if their pelts were on the market at all, it was through trapping.130 Conditions on farms have been a large concern for animal activists. Small, cramped pens (in use since at least 1938131), reports of mistreatment, and inhumane methods of execution have been the subject of reports by PETA and other organizations. Some mink farms, for instance, have used gas exhaust or lethal injection.132 122

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PETA is well known for its provocative activism, although the organization is not associated with the type of militant and violent protest that often characterizes the behavior of fringe groups such as the Animal Liberation Front.133 In his autobiography, Dan Mathews, who now works as PETA’s senior vice president of campaigns, wrote that the group had to push the envelope largely because of a media-saturated culture that “helped mold an escapist society hungrier for entertainment than education.”134​ Anna Wintour, Vogue magazine’s editor-in-chief, has been open about her support of the fur industry, which has garnered her unwanted attention from animal rights groups. As a Newsweek article once described it, “she’s PETA’s pet target.”138 During a notorious incident in 1996, a PETA member interrupted Wintour’s meal at the Four Seasons in New York by dropping a raccoon carcass on the table.139 The following year, fur was still well represented in Vogue’s advertisements—the autumn issues contained a reported twenty-eight pages.140 Despite the antagonism, Wintour’s stance has never wavered. In her editorial letter in the May issue of 1998, Wintour noted the prevalence of fur on international runways. “The PETA people have probably sabotaged themselves with their attention-seeking vandalism. It does attract attention, but to furs rather than their cause.”141 When Teri Agins of the Wall Street Journal questioned her about fur, Wintour replied, “I think Vogue’s support of fur absolutely helped the fur industry. . . . We totally supported it and will continue to support it.”142 Fake and “Ethical” Fur In 2002, PETA backed the fur-and-leather-free fashion show of Marc Bouwer. Bouwer told Women’s Wear Daily, “I’m not telling people not to wear fur. I’m telling them how fashion has evolved today. . . . There are amazing new fabrics and technology to create imitation fur and leather that a lot of people don’t know about.”143 Despite this emphasis on innovation, faux furs have long been a viable alternative to real furs. In the fashion press, they are referred to by a variety of names: faux furs, imitation furs, simulated furs, or fabric furs. As part of the American World Humane Conference in 1923, there was a display of such “fabric furs, which, it was said, had reached such an advanced state of manufacture that only an expert could detect the difference from real furs.”144​ Postwar, fake fur was the subject of fashion editorials: “Frankly artificial, plush-soft, pleasant to watch and to wear, fake furs are a natural to a hearthside role,” wrote Vogue in 1949, showcasing “mock” broadtail and moleskin.145 By 1950, wrote one newspaper account, fake furs were meant to be discernable as such: “‘Frankly fake’ furs . . . not only imitate the animal kingdom, but poke fun at it. They have been dyed in fanciful colors and made with exaggerated markings.”146 According to New York Times fashion editor Virginia Pope, who chose fake furs as the subject of her recurrent home-sewing column, “Patterns of the Times,” in November 1950, the “frankly fake” fabrics were composed of wool, cotton, or rayon, or blends thereof.147 During the 1960s, synthetic fibers, such as acrylic, were increasingly utilized in the production of fake furs.148 In 1968 the New York Times reported that sales of faux furs, as well as leathers, were thriving.149 Not only were youths of the 1960s shunning the “minks that mother wore” in favor of fun furs, the wearing of “synthetic fur garments” was becoming more prevalent. According to Isadore Barmash: “These coats and jackets made of fur-like fabrics from man-made fibers, are priced considerably lower than the natural furs and have tended to siphon off some of the sales that natural furs would have had.”150 Some fabric manufacturers also capitalized on the public sentiment against endangered skins during this period. E. F. Timme & Sons, Inc. ran an advertisement in Vogue in July 1970, in which they marveled that “one woman . . . is actually wearing 1/60 of the world’s tiger population on her back.” Certainly, the widespread adoption of fakes was in their financial interest, but the company claimed to espouse an ecological point of view. Real furs, they said, were “unnecessary because modern technology has made the wearing of animal skins virtually obsolete.”151​ 123

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Figure 5.16  This brown wool coat by Madame Grès mimicked the look of the fur Persian lamb, which is taken from newborn or fetal lambs. The coat offered a chic alternative to traditional fur, which was prohibitively expensive for the average Parisian woman during the German occupation of Paris in the Second World War. The coat’s dense wool pile is probably as warm as the fur it imitates, and it precedes the more common use of simulated fur by nearly thirty years. Madame Grès, coat, brown wool faux fur, 1942–3, France, The Museum at FIT, 2004.16.1. Museum purchase.

For those determined to continue the use of fur, ethical sourcing presents an alternative that at least brings transparency to the process. At the end of the 1980s, when his friend Bill Blass publicly quit furs, Oscar de la Renta told Women’s Wear Daily: “Right now, I am under contract to Wagner Furs, but I am concerned about how animals are killed for the furs to be acquired. I care a lot for nature. I really want to investigate it further and see what I will do.”154 In the past, he had experimented with faux furs. De la Renta subsequently moved to using only Origin Assured™ furs. Although this organization claims to set standards for sourcing,155 critics such as the Fur Free Alliance highlight the fact that the scheme ensures only that furs are sourced from countries with animal welfare standards or regulations for fur production. It does not specify what these standards should be, nor that they have been met, let alone exceeded.156 Furthermore, as scholar John Sorenson has argued, “since all fur is taken from animals that are deliberately killed by the industry to obtain it, the meaning of ‘ethically-sourced’ sounds at best like a euphemism.”157 Another option that may be considered to be ethical is fur by-products, sometimes referred to in the industry as “foodie” furs. A Macy’s West fashion executive was quoted in the Wall Street Journal in 2004 as saying, “If you can eat it, we can buy it.”158 That distinction appeases some; but “if that’s the difference,” one article quipped, “it suggests a new billboard slogan for the fur industry: ‘Let them eat mink.’”159 The idea of by-products is long-standing; it was also the primary rationalization for the use of certain bird feathers 124

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Figure 5.17  Although it was possible to make faux furs that looked deceptively real, a number of designers in the late 1980s and early 1990s embraced obvious imitations, as some had several decades earlier. Dolce and Gabbana’s 1992 printed “tiger-stripe” coat shown on the right typifies the trend for exaggerated styles and motifs. On the left is an Oscar de la Renta design that combines faux leopard skin with Mongolian lamb fur. Linda Wells wrote, “obvious fakes are certainly more appealing” in light of the “current concern about wildlife preservation.”152 Yet a Women’s Wear Daily article questioned whether fakes might provide “the real thing a big boost.”153 Installation shot from Eco-Fashion: Going Green (The Museum at FIT, 2010). Left: Oscar de la Renta, coat and hat, green wool, faux leopard skin, Mongolian lamb fur, Fall 1995, USA. Collection of The Museum at FIT, 96.81.2. Gift of Oscar de la Renta. Right: Dolce and Gabbana, coat, tiger print faux fur, 1992, Italy. Collection of The Museum at FIT, P92.58.16. Museum purchase.

during the nineteenth century. In his research, Sorenson provided an important critique on the use of byproduct materials, articulating the problems of cruelty and “assembly line killing” associated with the meat industries.160 These arguments may suggest that fake fur is the only ethical option, but it must be acknowledged that synthetic materials present real environmental challenges. Many modern imitations are derived from petroleum, meaning they require energy-intensive manufacturing processes, and do not biodegrade as a natural fiber would. This point was understood during the surge of faux fur use in the 1970s. Said Time magazine in 1975: “Rising concern about industrial pollution has enabled many ecology-minded buyers to rationalize that the purchase of a fake fur made with chemicals produced in a pollution-prone plant may be a greater environmental sin than buying the real thing.”161 “The real thing,” however, might also contain a fair share of chemical components, applied as part of processing and preservation treatments,162 a fact which calls into question fur industry claims that fur is a natural commodity (a tactic that Sorenson characterizes as “greenwashing fur”).163 125

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Thinking Critically Of the various topics related to ethics and sustainability in fashion, the use of animal products is perhaps the most polarizing. For some, forswearing all animal products is the only true interpretation of sustainability. For others, a sustainable approach could refer to the responsible, humane use of animal products—although, with such a multifaceted topic, exactly what this means is open to further debate. In this chapter, we have seen an array of positions on the ethical use of animal products, with different concerns prioritized. Many would place a focus on the conditions in which the animals are kept—and killed. Some would select to use only byproducts from the meat industry, seeing this as an ethical attempt to make maximum use of each animal’s body and to minimize waste. Some may favor a holistic view of animal-derived products, comparing the materials with plant-based or synthetic fibers in terms of factors such as environmental impacts, durability, and repairability. Social issues such as continuing culturally significant craft traditions and sustaining local livelihoods may also be of concern. Yet the problems of traceability discussed in Chapter 4 likewise present themselves in relation to animal welfare. Due to the complexity of fashion supply chains, it can be difficult to establish, and trust, claims about the ethical and sustainable credentials of products derived from animals. Furthermore, the degree to which transparency drives progress in terms of standards can be challenged. A critical view of the relationship between animals and the fashion industry might question the logic of focusing only on animals that are directly impacted, rather than animals—and indeed all living things— that are indirectly affected. Examples are not hard to find. Journalist Lucy Siegle, for instance, has reported on how cattle farming for leather production is driving the destruction of the rainforest biome in Brazil.164 Deforestation destroys ancient habitats and causes biodiversity loss. It also contributes to climate change which affects all living things on Earth. The fashion industry is a major player in climate change, with over 8 percent of total global greenhouse gas emissions reportedly produced by the manufacture of clothing and footwear.165 From this perspective, each one of our fashion choices affects other living things. Another way of broadening our view is to examine the thinking that underpins the discourse regarding the use of animals in the fashion system. John Sorenson argues that “the fashion industry’s use of nonhuman animals . . . hinges on the industrialization of exploitation of animals which essentially turns them from living beings to mere products, or raw materials.”166 This attitude to animals is part of a wider notion, widespread in our culture, that the natural world is separate from human life and is available for us to exploit, control, and manipulate. Louise St. Pierre explains that such ideas about “mastery of nature” can be traced back to the emergence of rationalism and modernity—as we will discuss further in Chapter 6.167 The radical alternative, as St. Pierre explains, is to “contextualise humans as interdependent within nature, and nature as vital and alive.”168 The question of how to explore fashion from this perspective—in which humans and nonhumans work together in a system based on mutual respect, or even love—is exciting, but as yet little developed in a modern Western context. There is much to learn from indigenous communities, such as those who inhabit the Brazilian rainforest. According to Fiona Watson, director of research at Survival International, these groups possess “vast and acute botanical and zoological knowledge . . . and protect some of the largest and most biodiverse forests on Earth.”169

Further Reading In the early twentieth century, letters from both sides of the feather debate peppered the New York Times. These valuable primary sources illustrate the polarizing nature of this argument. Some examples include Charles W. Farmer, “Killing, Eating, and Wearing Birds,” New York Times (May 13, 1900, p. 21); Thomas Upp, 126

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“Bright Plumaged Birds,” New York Times (July 10, 1913, p. 6); Herbert Syrett, “Plumage Saves Birds,” New York Times (September 13, 1913, p. 10). A comprehensive examination of the use of fur in the past and present is provided by Fur: A Sensitive History by Jonathan Faiers (Yale University Press, 2020), while the memoir Committed: The Adventures of PETA’s Rebel Campaigner by Dan Mathews offers a firsthand insight into experiences of anti-fur campaigning in the twenty-first century. John Sorenson’s article “Ethical fashion and the exploitation of nonhuman animals,” from Critical Studies in Fashion & Beauty (Volume 2, Issue 1–2, 2011, pp. 139–64) is effective in exploring ethical and critical perspectives on the use of animals in fashion products.

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C hapter 6 FASHION SYSTEMS

The previous chapters have discussed an array of approaches to sustainable fashion but have also highlighted the limitations of tackling specific problems without considering the system as a whole. This chapter zooms out to take a holistic view of fashion systems, as defined by Alice Payne in her book Designing Fashion’s Future: All clothed humans participate in a fashion system, meaning that they fashion themselves in time, place and culture through technology and human labour. Fashion-as-change, fashion-as-culture and fashionas-industry are the three elements I use to define “the fashion system” as an overarching model for how human dress practices function. There are innumerable fashion systems in the world, and therefore many degrees to how tightly change, culture and industry are bound.1 We will critically examine the world’s mainstream fashion system, which has its roots in western Europe but has spread through much of the world via globalization. As Payne explains, this is not actually a single homogenous system; there are “myriad versions, played out in different cultures and cities.” But in all versions of this dominant system, the fashion-as-change element is constantly driven forward by industry, and particularly by the fast fashion sector, “meaning regular fresh offerings of product replace the old with the new.”2 Furthermore, the mainstream system is, throughout the world, “cosily encircled by the dominant economic system of globalized capitalism.”3 We will also explore fashion systems that differ from this status quo by challenging its entrenched norms and conventions. To support this exploration we will draw on Fashion Fictions, an international participatory project established by Amy in 2020. The project brings people together to generate, experience, and reflect on engaging fictional visions of sustainable fashion cultures and systems. The first stage of the project involves contributors writing one-hundred-word outlines of worlds in which invented historical junctures have led to familiar-yet-strange sustainable cultures and systems. These worlds are then explored further via creative prototyping and enactment activities. Alongside insights into the material and social practices that arise in the fictional worlds, the research aims to identify historical real-world examples with relevance to the fictional systems, in recognition of the value of such examples in generating ideas for the future.​ For a genuinely holistic view, we must consider the mainstream fashion system as part of the wider economy. As economic anthropologist Jason Hickel explains, “the global economy . . . is now dramatically overshooting what scientists have defined as safe planetary boundaries, with devastating consequences for the living world.”4 This activity is not evenly spread; although most countries in the global South could increase their use of resources to meet the human needs of their citizens while remaining within planetary boundaries, high-income countries use far more than their fair share.5 Rapid and radical reductions are needed if we are to avoid the direst consequences of climate change. A recent report by sustainability think tank Hot or Cool shows that if we are to meet the target of 0.7 tonnes of carbon dioxide lifestyle emissions per person per year (required to keep warming to 1.5 degrees above preindustrial levels), reductions in emissions of 91–95 percent are needed in high-income countries by 2050.6 The carbon dioxide measured in the Hot or Cool report includes both direct emissions and emissions that are “embodied” in imported goods, such as clothing. The report emphasizes that technological improvements

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Figure 6.1  Fashion Fictions is an international participatory project led by Amy Twigger Holroyd. Participants are invited to imagine radically different fashion systems, rather than—as is the typical sustainable fashion approach—attempting to build solutions within the mainstream system. This image was created to represent life in World 54, where adults can own only ten items of clothing. Textiles are therefore used in a highly flexible way, with custom making, inventive styling, and swapping common.7

alone will not be enough to achieve these staggeringly ambitious targets: unprecedented shifts in consumption patterns will also be required. Hickel agrees, pointing out that even if we were able to engineer entirely clean energy, this would not resolve other sustainability issues such as deforestation, soil depletion, and mass extinction.8 In terms of fashion, therefore, we need to dramatically reduce the overconsumption that has become the norm in the global North. This is particularly challenging because the number of garments produced globally doubled between 2000 and 2015, and continues to grow.9 To understand the reasons for this incessant growth, we must examine the economic system that the mainstream fashion system sits within: capitalism. In a capitalist system, the means of production are privately owned and the goods or services produced are traded to generate profit; most people are workers who sell their labor for a wage. While there are many different versions of capitalism, the core idea is endorsed across the globe as “the default model for economic and material progress.”10 Hickel explains that the capitalist system is different from other economic systems (which may also involve markets and trade) because it is “organised around the imperative of constant expansion, or ‘growth’: ever-increasing levels of industrial extraction, production and consumption.”11 Gross Domestic Product (GDP) is used as a national indicator of this economic growth. Underpinning growth is a simple formula: taking more, from both the living world and human labor, than you give back. As WWF states, “blatant disregard for the environment [is] entrenched in our current economic model.”12 Thus, Hickel explains, “The ecological crisis is an inevitable consequence of this [capitalist] system.”13 130

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Figure 6.2  Earth Logic Fashion Action Research Plan, a 2019 publication by fashion and sustainability pioneers Kate Fletcher and Mathilda Tham, argues that sustainability cannot be achieved within the “growth logic” that drives the fashion sector and other capitalist businesses. They propose a new paradigm of “earth logic”: placing earth first, before profit and all other considerations. As the authors explain, “Paradigms, or the accepted models of how ideas relate to one another, constitute the purpose and meaning of systems.”14 This diagram articulates eight values that will guide us into the earth-first paradigm.

Some people would disagree with Hickel’s statement and argue for the value of “green growth”: pursuing growth in ways that protect the environment. The notion of green growth depends on the possibility of “decoupling” economic growth from resource use, through improved efficiency and emerging technologies.15 Yet scientific modeling has shown that this decoupling is impossible: if we continue with a growth-driven economy we can slow resource use, but not reverse it. As environmental engineer James Ward and colleagues state: “Growth in GDP ultimately cannot plausibly be decoupled from growth in material and energy use, demonstrating categorically that GDP growth cannot be sustained indefinitely.”16​ Academics, writers, and activists working in a range of different contexts have been developing ideas for alternatives to capitalism, which can be collectively described as a “post-capitalist” or “post-growth” economy. Such an economy would be organized around well-being—meeting the fundamental human needs of the global population—rather than growth for its own sake. The transition to a post-growth economy would require a managed process of “degrowth,” which Hickel describes as “a planned reduction of excess energy and resource use to bring the economy back into balance with the living world in a safe, just and equitable way.”17 He explains that this planned reduction would require decisions about which parts of the economy should be radically scaled back—such as those “designed purely to maximise profits rather than to meet human needs . . . or advertising strategies intended to manipulate our emotions and make us feel that what we have is inadequate.”18 As Alastair Fuad-Luke states in his book Design Activism, “This demands a transition of societies that is equally as profound as the one experienced in the late 18th century at the emergence of the Industrial Economy.”19 131

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A shift from growth to post-growth involves not only a change in the structure of the economy but also changes in our ways of thinking and being. As we will discuss later in the chapter, capitalism both requires and generates a mindset that sees the natural world as a resource, available for humans to control and exploit—rather than an ecosystem in which we are entangled, along with all other forms of life. The shift to post-growth will certainly involve different ways of thinking about fashion, moving from the common emphasis on big-name designers, catwalk shows, and seductive imagery to the appreciation of much more diverse aesthetics, practices, and values. To support this change in emphasis, we can draw on the work of decolonial fashion theorists such as M. Angela Jansen, who proposes the use of fashion as a verb to describe a plural “multitude of possibilities” for fashioning the body.20 As we start to explore plural possibilities for fashion, we must, in the words of Lynda Grose, “unfreeze” cultural and social norms: that is, bravely question taken-for-granted aspects of fashion culture.21 For inspiration we might look to those who are already doing so, such as artists Abigail Glaum-Lathbury and Maura Brewer. Through their JUMPSUIT project, Glaum-Lathbury and Brewer—who work together as the Rational Dress Society—invite people to reject the endless choice of consumer capitalism and replace their clothes with an ungendered utilitarian monogarment. As their website explains, “JUMPSUIT offers a way to forego the insular logic of self-expression in favor of forming communal bonds.”22​

Figure 6.3  The JUMPSUIT project is described by its founders the Rational Dress Society as “an experiment in counterfashion.”23 Their ungendered jumpsuit design is available in over 300 size variations and in two forms: as a ready-made garment or as a pattern, available to download free of charge. The artists behind this initiative take inspiration from various dress reform movements, including the nineteenth-century society from which their name is borrowed and artists of the early Soviet Union, who sought a radical new approach to dress. Yet the project is firmly located in the contemporary context. It prompts us to critically reflect on the endless variety offered by a consumerist fashion system and to see, as journalist Heather Radke puts it, “the choices that have been shoved outside of our field of vision: to mend the clothes we have, to halt consumption, and perhaps to opt out of capitalism entirely.”24

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Post-growth fashion systems will also rebuild local textile infrastructures and value the situated knowledge that has been eroded by globalization. An influential leader in this work is Rebecca Burgess, who in 2009 set herself the challenge of wearing only clothes sourced and dyed within a 150-mile radius of her home in California.25 Burgess discovered a wealth of farmers and producers in the region but identified a lack of connectivity between them, which led to the founding of the Fibershed movement. As Burgess explains: “Similar to a local watershed or a foodshed, a fibershed is focused on the source of the raw material, the transparency with which it is converted into clothing, and the connectivity among all parts, from soil to skin and back to soil.”26 The movement has since grown significantly, with dozens of affiliate communities worldwide now building regional fiber systems in diverse geographic and cultural contexts. Community and learning are core to the Fibershed philosophy; Burgess describes how people working together are able to develop grounded and resilient strategies and articulates the value of “learning from regional indigenous communities, whose understanding of the human role in the ecosystem is unparalleled.”27​ A plural and inclusive view of fashion should also bring into focus what J.K.Gibson-Graham (two feminist economic geographers who publish under a joint pen name) describe as “diverse economies”: practices of nonconsumption and nonmarket consumption such as gifting, loaning, sharing, and bartering.29 These practices are often located in the home and in community spaces, rather than in the commercial locations that we typically associate with the discussion of the economy. Although the mainstream fashion system can seem all-consuming, in fact, as design researcher Cameron Tonkinwise states, “everyday life involves a wide range of activities that are not capitalist in nature.” He goes on to argue that transitions toward sustainability will mean “finding and amplifying all the ways of being in the world that are persistently non-capitalist, that defy technological ratcheting of expectations around efficiency and comfort and instead entail everyday practices of sustainment . . . localist systems of resourcing, commons and shared resource use, ways of consuming time that are regenerative of ecosystem health and diversity.”30​

Figure 6.4 The North West England Fibreshed launched an ambitious project, Homegrown Homespun, in 2021. The project, led by botanical dyer and educator Justine Aldersey-Williams (pictured) and involving various local partners, drew a group of volunteers and experts together to revive the cultivation of linen in Britain. In its first phase, the community grew a crop of flax and woad on a patch of disused land and used the crop to produce a piece of naturally dyed indigo linen denim. The project’s ambition is to produce Homegrown Homespun linen denim jeans commercially by 2023.28 133

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Figure 6.5  A Temporary Outpost of the Blue Fashion Commons is an interactive installation that explores the notion of clothing as a shared community resource, or commons. Created as part of the Fashion Fictions project, the installation is presented as a window into World 43, where—for environmental reasons—the sale of all blue textiles, whether new or used, has been banned. With the supply of new items cut off, systems of exchange have developed in which blue items are traded and repaired at community-run hubs. Visitors to the installation are invited to get a taste of life in this alternative fashion system by exchanging and mending their real-world garments.

In order to generate new thinking about diverse fashion systems for the future, there is great value in looking to the past. In this chapter we will look in more detail at the development of the capitalist system within modernity and then examine various historical alternatives, including both “genuine” fashion cultures and systems and unrealized utopian proposals that aimed to instigate fundamentally new ways of practicing fashion. Throughout, we hope to highlight the transformative potential of imagining otherwise, as described by economist Ha-Joon Chang: SF [science fiction], history and comparative studies all allow us to see that the existing economic and social order is not a “natural” one: that it can be changed; that it has been changed; and, most importantly, that is has been changed in the way it has only because some people have dared to imagine a different world, and fought for it.31 How Did We Get Here? In previous chapters we have focused on the period from the Industrial Revolution to the early twenty-first century, and our discussion has largely been centered on the United States. In this chapter, we expand our view in terms of time, looking back as far as the medieval period, and shift our focus to western Europe. We will consider the development of the capitalist system in the era of modernity and the fashion system that emerged within it. Enclosure, Capitalism, and Modernity To set the scene for the development of capitalism, it is necessary to outline the system that preceded it: feudalism. Under the feudal system in Europe, powerful lords and nobles controlled the land; peasants, or serfs, were forced to work and fight for them in exchange for protection and use of the land for 134

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subsistence. The later capitalist system is quite different, being based on the production and trade of goods for profit and with workers selling their labor in exchange for money to buy goods. There are conflicting theories about how and why feudalism gave way to capitalism. One school of thought sees capitalism as reflecting a natural human tendency for self-interest. From this perspective, it was inevitable that capitalism would arise: the gradual development of trade and urbanization enabled the transition from feudalism. Another school of thought, which corresponds with post-growth thinking, fundamentally rejects the notion that capitalism is natural or inevitable and offers an alternative story of its development. Writing from this second perspective, Jason Hickel draws on the work of historians including Silvia Federici and Fernand Braudel to argue that feudalism was destroyed not by early capitalism, but by peasant movements in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. These movements, which spanned Europe, rebelled against the oppressive feudal system and through violent struggle eventually managed to initiate new forms of society based on egalitarian ideas and self-sufficiency.32 This self-sufficiency was supported by access to the commons: collectively managed resources such as pastures, forests, and rivers that provided fuel and food for local people, known as commoners, and their animals. While some commoners undertook waged labor, the resources provided by the commons gave them autonomy. They could choose whether to work and could negotiate their wages. 33 The elites were deeply unhappy about this autonomy, as it diminished their own power and wealth. One writer stated in the early 1500s: “The peasants are too rich . . . and do not know what obedience means; they don’t take law into any account, and wish there were no nobles . . . and they would like to decide what rent we should get for our lands.”34

Figure 6.6  Historically, many people had rights to collectively managed resources such as pastures, forests, and rivers, known as commons. One of these rights is “pannage”: the right to release pigs in a forest to feed on acorns and chestnuts. This fourteenth-century image shows men knocking down acorns to feed their pigs. Common rights connected people to the land and provided a means of self-sufficiency. These rights were violently removed through the process of enclosure, which historians consider to be central to the development of capitalism. 135

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The elites took action, taking the commons into private ownership through a process known as enclosure.35 As historian Ellen Meiksins Wood explains, “enclosure meant not simply a physical fencing of land but the extinction of common and customary use rights on which many people depended for their livelihood.”36 This process took place over the course of three centuries in Britain and across Europe, resulting in millions of people being removed from the land and therefore from their means of subsistence.37​ Enclosure was crucial to the development of capitalism in two key ways. First, it enabled the initial accumulation of wealth necessary to kickstart capitalist production and trade. Second, it removed the peasants’ ability to be self-sufficient and forced them to become entirely dependent on waged work. As Wood states: “capitalism was advanced by the assertion of the landlords’ powers against the peasants’ claims to customary rights.”38 Thus, enclosure created the cheap and abundant labor on which capitalism depends. According to Hickel, this arrangement, which is familiar to us today but was unprecedented at the time, was ripe for abuse: “Those who controlled the means of production could get away with paying rock-bottom wages, and people would have to take it.”39 Overall, he explains: “Capitalism rose on the back of organised violence, mass impoverishment, and the systematic destruction of self-sufficient subsistence economies.”40 Let us now turn to modernity, which sociologist Anthony Giddens defines as “modes of social life or organisation which emerged in Europe from about the seventeenth century onwards and which subsequently became more or less worldwide in their influence.”41 Decolonial futures expert Vanessa Machado de Oliveira explains that modernity is typically seen as “a general project of civilization that seeks to engineer society through humanism, reason, science, progress, and technology.”42 Furthermore, as Alice Payne states, modernity “venerates the self-actualisation of the individual above all else.”43 The origins of modernity are contested. It is variously framed as emerging in response to the authority of the church in medieval times; being initiated by the Renaissance in the seventeenth century or the European Enlightenment in the eighteenth century; or commencing with the colonization of the Americas in the late fifteenth century.44 Regardless, it is fair to say that the development of modernity is deeply entangled with the development of capitalism. Our lives today remain utterly shaped by the ideas and values of modernity. Modernity’s rationalist mindset and notions of progress have affected every aspect of life for centuries: medicine, education, technology, politics, human rights, gender—the list could go on and on. The mindset has also influenced attitudes to the living world. As Hickel explains: “for most of human history . . . [people] recognised a deep interdependence with rivers, forests, animals and plants, even with the planet itself, which they saw as sentient beings, just like people, and animated by the very same spirit.”45 Within this “animist” ontology, or theory of being, the exploitation of nature as a resource is unthinkable. Modernity rejected animist ontologies, which it considered to be superstitious and primitive, and brought a new “dualist” mindset, which positions humans and nature as fundamentally separate. According to Machado de Oliveira, this separation is based on “the ideas that humans are a superior species that deserve to conquer, dominate, own, manage, and control the natural environment.”46 This ontological shift had huge consequences for human development and for ecological destruction: the extractive processes that are central to the capitalist system depend on this dualist theory of being.47 The European Fashion System and the Industrial Revolution As we have explained, the early development of capitalism was linked to the expansion of commercial trade. In her influential book Adorned in Dreams: Fashion and Modernity, fashion theorist Elizabeth Wilson explains that not only was the textile trade part of this expansion, but also the rise of capitalism shaped how clothes were used: it led to the emergence of a new fashion system.48 This fashion system, which was the forerunner 136

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of the mainstream globalized fashion system we know today, was characterized by rapidly changing styles—in contrast to earlier systems in which, it is thought, clothing styles were much more static.49 The development of the new fashion system, which originated in Europe’s royal and aristocratic courts, was gradual; styles of dress were still dictated by distinctions in rank for a long period. But the new notion of changing styles did spread, influenced by various factors including the rise of the merchant class and the growth of cities. Wilson quotes Jacob Burckhardt, a nineteenth-century historian. Writing about Italy in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, Burckhardt connected the freedom of urban life with an ethos of individualism, which was expressed through fashionable consumption: “Even serious men . . . looked on a handsome and becoming costume as an element in the perfection of the individual.”50 Wilson also provides an insight into the means by which particular fashions spread, discussing the sixteenth-century popularity of costume books that “described and depicted fashionable variations in dress in different regions and no doubt contributed to the speeding up of the fashion process.”51 It was at this point in history, she suggests, that the wearing of outdated clothes began to be stigmatized. The Industrial Revolution, which began in Britain in the mid-eighteenth century, was a period of great change. Major technological developments, including the invention of the steam engine, impacted every aspect of life. At the same time, Wilson explains, “the nature of capitalism changed drastically.”52 As historian Giorgio Riello explains, it is widely acknowledged that cotton was the “fuel” of the Industrial Revolution. It was the first sector to become mechanized, shifting rapidly from a craft industry to manufacturing on a massive scale.53 The technological innovations that took place within the textile industry during this period, including the spinning jenny, spinning mule, cotton gin, Jacquard loom, roller printing, and chemical dyes, have been detailed in Chapters 1 and 2. The other crucial element enabling this explosion in production was, of course, labor. Jason Hickel explains that the British peasants, now utterly dependent on waged employment, “poured desperate and shell-shocked into the cities, where they provided the cheap labour that fuelled the dark Satanic mills immortalized in the poetry of William Blake.”54 As an indication of how difficult the working conditions in these cities were, Hickel notes that life expectancy in Manchester—the British epicenter of cotton production—during the first century of the Industrial Revolution fell to just twenty-five years.55 While the Industrial Revolution was transforming life in Britain, the country’s empire was expanding: its representatives colonized lands across the globe and subjugated the people living there. The mindset of modernity drove colonization by positioning Europeans as superior to those elsewhere; this deeply problematic way of thinking is another example of the dualism discussed earlier in the chapter.56 In fact, decolonial scholars such as Vanessa Machado de Oliveira argue that when discussing modernity we should use the hybrid term modernity/coloniality, to acknowledge that the benefits we associate with modernity were created through the violence of historical colonization. Furthermore, even though many formerly colonized countries have gained their independence, coloniality—“the enduring manifestations of colonial relations, logic, and situations”57— remains deeply entrenched in contemporary societies, meaning that its violence is ongoing. The Industrial Revolution was intensely entangled with colonization; for example, money made from the slave trade was used to build the British railways that enabled the movement of materials and goods. In the case of the clothing industry there were direct connections, such as the extensive use of cotton picked by enslaved people on plantations in the United States in English mills and the export of cotton fabrics made in Britain as part of the transatlantic slave trade. Riello, discussing the history of cotton, explains that the rapid technological developments in Britain were also driven by knowledge, ideas, and expertise appropriated from other regions, and by the sale of British goods across the globe. As a result, Britain—and other European countries that were following a similar trajectory—became rich.58 Riello argues that “This marks the beginning not just of modern industrialisation but also of a ‘divergence’ between different parts of the world: the rich and the poor.”59​ 137

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Figure 6.7  Cotton woven in Lancashire’s mills was primarily imported from the United States, reflecting the global trade that underpinned the Industrial Revolution. During the American Civil War, a Union blockade prevented exports of baled cotton from the Confederate states, causing many British cotton factories to halt production. This had a devastating impact on textile workers, causing what was known as the Lancashire Cotton Famine. This nineteenth-century illustration depicts a soup kitchen in Manchester set up to feed unemployed mill workers and their families. Although the famine caused great hardship, Manchester workers supported the Union in its fight against slavery. In 1862, “The Working-Men of Manchester, England,” pledged their support in a letter to Abraham Lincoln, stating: “Justice demands for the black, no less than for the white, the protection of the law.”60

Consumerism and Change The Great Exhibition of 1851, the world’s first trade fair, is commonly hailed as a landmark in the development of capitalism. The event marked a shift to consumer culture, described by sociologist Don Slater as “in important respects the culture of the modern west . . . bound up with central values and practices which define western modernity, such as choice, individualism and market relations.”61 According to philosopher Gilles Lipovetsky, the European fashion system underwent a significant change around the same time: a new arrangement of production and consumption emerged that altered the balance of power and spread fashion beyond the elite for the first time. Lipovetsky identifies two “keystones” of this new arrangement: haute couture and industrial clothing manufacture.62 Charles Frederick Worth, an Englishman based in Paris, set up the first haute couture house in 1857. Elizabeth Wilson describes Worth as “the first truly modern dress designer” and explains that Worth became the “arbiter of taste,” a distinct rupture from earlier periods when the aristocracy held this power.63 Trends generated by the haute couture system were followed by the manufacturers of ready-to-wear clothing that produced clothing for the masses. As explained in Chapters 2 and 4, the growth of ready-towear clothing production was enabled by the invention of the sewing machine and other machinery, and the labor of garment workers, often in sweatshops. As early as the late nineteenth century, the consumerism of the capitalist fashion system was being criticized. In 1884 William Morris stridently argued that the very capitalists know well that there is no genuine healthy demand for [fashionable goods], and they are compelled to foist them off on the public by stirring up a strange feverish desire for petty excitement, 138

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the outward token of which is known by the conventional name of fashion, a strange monster born of the vacancy of the lives of rich people, and the eagerness of competitive Commerce to make the most of the huge crowd of workmen whom it breeds as unregarded instruments for what is called the making of money.64 Wilson discusses the wider societal changes that accompanied the expansion of the fashion industry in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, including new forms of communication—railways, telephones, cinema, and print media—that “intensified the rush and pace of modern life,” along with the continued growth of cities.65 She describes “new, huge industrial infernos where truly the stranger could lose himself or herself, or find a new identity in the anonymity of the surging crowds,” and argues that this anonymity, which places greater emphasis on appearance, further increased the social importance of fashion.66 A more focused influence on the development of consumer culture occurred in the United States in 1928, when Edward Bernays, nephew of Sigmund Freud, wrote a book titled Propaganda on the application of techniques of persuasion—previously employed in the context of war—to everyday life via public relations and advertising. As climate activist and academic Alastair McIntosh explains, Bernays “used psychology not for healing troubled souls but to shift products.” McIntosh argues that as a result, a system arose “that generated wants by tapping into vulnerabilities in the psyche,” with businesses reaping the financial rewards through increased consumption.67​ Lipovetsky identifies the period following the Second World War as a second juncture in the development of the Western fashion system, describing “the advent of a society restructured from top to bottom by the attractive and the ephemeral—by the very logic of fashion.”68 While some aspects of the earlier system

Figure 6.8  Consumer culture celebrates an abundance of choice, as shown in this advertisement for British shoe retailer Barratt published in Picture Post magazine in March 1951. Journalist Vance Packard highlighted and challenged practices aimed at increasing consumerism during the 1950s. His book The Hidden Persuaders, published in 1957, exposed the psychological techniques used by advertisers to induce desire for their products. 139

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continued, established hierarchies were disrupted, driven by the emergence of what Lipovetsky describes as “a society rendered euphoric by novelty and consumption,” combined with the new youth culture, political upheaval, and further progress in the technologies of mass garment manufacture.69 Fashion became a widespread phenomenon spanning the whole of society. While many designers leaped to produce the inexpensive fashionable goods demanded by this new era, others questioned the collusion of design with consumerism; Alastair Fuad-Luke highlights a 1969 conference, Design, Society and the Future, that focused on design’s economic, social and moral consequences, and Victor Papanek’s influential book, Design for the Real World, published in 1971. As Fuad-Luke explains, “Papanek’s pitch was straightforward—designers needed to take responsible decisions, spend less time designing ephemeral goods for the consumer economy, and spend more creative time on generating solutions to the real needs of the disadvantaged 80 per cent population of the planet.”70 Alice Payne identifies the 1980s as a time of critical change in the mainstream fashion system, when the emergent ideology of neoliberalism, which promotes unfettered capitalism and free trade, led to the lowering of tariffs that had protected local garment industries and the rapid growth of offshore manufacturing, as detailed in Chapter 2.71 A new system of clothing production developed, with complex global networks of suppliers providing “just-in-time” manufacturing for the mass market. It is this system that has delivered the incredibly high levels of garment production and “disposable” ethos of fast fashion. The shift to overseas production was part of a broader process of globalization, defined by sociologist Anthony Giddens as “the intensification of worldwide social relations that link distant localities in such a way that local happenings are shaped by events occurring many miles away and vice-versa.”72 Another aspect of globalization is the way in which the fashion system that originated in western Europe has spread to many parts of the world. We can now talk of a single mainstream globalized fashion system, with regional variations but a core essence of systematic change, driven by industry to generate the economic growth required by the capitalist economy.73 As emphasized in this book, the mainstream globalized fashion system is deeply problematic. The overconsumption that it generates is contributing to ecological devastation and the climate crisis. Its industrial practices perpetuate what Payne describes as “the colonial matrix of power,” entrenching global and local inequalities.74 The system’s dominating presence erases locally rooted, culturally meaningful, and materially light systems of fashioning the body that are in balance with the living world. As decolonial fashion expert Erica de Greef explains, “these alternative, so-called non-western or ‘other’ fashion systems have been relegated to the margins, often made redundant, and defined as traditional, non-fashion or even, anti-fashion.”75 Furthermore, the mindset of modernity—dating back hundreds of years and still shaping our thinking today—leads us to deny the severity of these challenges and to fully acknowledge the fundamental change that will be needed to address them.76

Inspiration for Change Having examined the development of the mainstream globalized fashion system and the broader economic system within which it operates, we can now turn our attention to alternative fashion systems. To generate viable ideas for fashion in a post-growth economy, it is essential for us to think imaginatively about different ways of living with our clothes. As economist and writer David Fleming states, “If the mature market economy is to have a sequel . . . it will be the work, substantially, of imagination.”77 To feed the imagination, in this section we will explore utopian dress initiatives and real-world fashion systems of the past, using speculative ideas generated in the Fashion Fictions project as a guide. 140

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How Clothes Are Used First, we will focus on the ways in which clothes are used in historical fashion systems. The earlier chapters of this book have already provided many examples of systems in which clothes were used differently from today, which connect with ideas embedded in the fictional worlds dreamt up by Fashion Fictions contributors. The fashion system of the fictional World 107, for example, is based on garments being sufficiently valuable that they can be exchanged like money78—an idea which is reminiscent of clothing forming a kind of material currency, accepted by nineteenth-century tailors as partial payment for the making of new clothes (as mentioned in Chapter 3), and the earlier role of silk as a type of currency.79 Many contributors to the Fashion Fictions project are attracted by a related idea, of clothes being valued over time: in World 27, for example, lived-in garments with embedded histories are highly prized (see Box 6.1) while in World 50 people connect via unique signatures sewn into others’ clothing, with the most heavily embellished garments being the most sought after.80

Box 6.1 In World 27, post-pandemic consumption and lifestyle shifts force a re-examination of value systems: closets full of empty clothes no longer articulate with day-to-day experience. Textile histories become central to the way we value garments, with Cuba as global leader in the postcapitalist heirloom-chain economy. Value shifts to that based on palimpsestic load: the greater the number of associated histories, the greater a garment’s desirability. Garments are traded and gifted within the framework of performative activities such as mending circles, where storytelling plays a significant role. A new, unscarred, non-storied garment is of little appeal; lived-in, mended, altered garments are in highest demand. Jeannine Diego, Mexico

In Chapter 3 we encountered diverse historical examples of repair and the repurposing of existing items into new garments. These ideas also feature heavily in the fictions. In World 12, for example, every high street has a repair salon, each with its own unique style;81 in World 41, the globalized trade in secondhand clothes has ceased and usable elements of damaged garments are consequently traded as spare parts.82 In these visions, we see repair and reuse at the heart of everyday fashion cultures, rather than—as is typical today—somewhat niche practices within a consumption-focused system. Looking in detail at historical periods in which reuse was widespread—whether via specific items such as the waistcoat reworked into a reticule bag shown in Figure 3.4 or through more general accounts of widespread repurposing, such as the remaking of eighteenth-century dresses described in Chapter 3—can help to add depth and nuance to our imaginings. Secondhand clothing, another aspect of reuse discussed in Chapter 3, arises in many of the worlds submitted to Fashion Fictions. In World 24, for example, a secondhand-only fashion magazine launches in 1980 and its influence eventually leads to the production of new clothes ceasing completely.83 In World 26, compulsory school uniform libraries transform attitudes to pre-worn clothing,84 while in World 120, clothing libraries foster an appreciation of “wearing stories” (see Box 6.2). In these speculative fictions secondhand practices are far more central than is the situation in today’s mainstream system, despite the recent growth in acceptance of 141

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pre-used items described in Chapter 3—and indicate that there is value in learning about historical periods in which acquiring used, rather than new, garments was the norm.

Box 6.2 In World 120, due to global scarcity of fabrics and other related sources as a result of mass exploitation, clothing libraries became the new global norm in the 21st century. A brainchild of two ground-breaking entrepreneurs, the Clothing Library stores clothing articles of different fabrics, uses, decades, and styles. They host a network of guilds who help with customizing and repairing the articles. The “borrowers” are also encouraged to leave behind notes which explained how they used the clothes and pictures of the outfits they put together. This venture gave birth to a newfound culture of appreciation and community enrichment. Clothing libraries challenged their borrowers to view clothing as much more than just fashion. People have a newfound appreciation for the clothes they wear, and look forward to the stories they share and receive whenever they visit the Clothing Library. Nikita S.B., United Arab Emirates

New Approaches to Dressing the Body Many projects aiming to transform the fashion system propose to change the styles of garments that are worn. Examples of such strategies can be found in the Fashion Fictions submissions: in World 116, for example, a unisex jumpsuit is the default clothing option.85 World 90 paints an equally radical yet contrasting vision, in which dress is used as a spectacular form of display and a way of demarcating personal space: “all genders wear skirts, tails and head-crests that can be fanned out to diameters of up to 8 feet across or neatly folded away.”86 If we look to history we can find an array of efforts to transform garment styles, encompassing both what fashion historian Aileen Ribeiro categorizes as dress reform initiatives, which are subject to practical considerations, and utopian clothing projects, which are able to explore “wild flights of fancy and theatricality” because they “will never have to pass the test of reality.”87 We will start by considering a number of efforts to introduce trousers for women in the nineteenth century. The first is the community at New Harmony in southern Indiana founded by Welsh textile manufacturer Robert Owen in 1824. Owen was a leading utopian socialist thinker and created the community as a radical experiment in communal living. As historian Kate Luck explains, Owen and other utopian socialists, “mistrustful of industrial capitalism, and the inequalities it fostered in the name of private property and a freemarket economy, believed that social progress lay in co-operation, rather than in competition.”88 According to dress historian Gayle V. Fischer, Owen attempted to abolish class and gender distinctions at New Harmony by introducing a new style of dress for both genders; bifurcated garments—trousers—were part of the proposed style for women.89 A visitor to New Harmony described the women’s clothes, which bore similarities to childrenswear: “a coat reaching to the knee and pantaloons, such as little girls wear among us.”90 Interestingly, despite these changes and the ideology underpinning them, interest in fashion was not eliminated. Sarah Pears, a New Harmony resident, commented that “the young girls . . . here think as much of dress and beaux as in any place I was ever in.”91 As Fischer points out, the New Harmony costume “superficially addressed the

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issues of women’s equality and rights, but it did not wipe out traditional stereotypes about women or help grant them rights equal to men’s.”92 While the New Harmony experiment was short lived, dissolving after just a couple of years, many similar communities were established across the United States and elsewhere.93 Fascinating dress ideas can be found in the stories of these settlements, such as the socialist communities in 1830s France that “devised a uniform for both sexes which buttoned all the way down the back, so as to prevent one getting in or out of it on one’s own, and this to further a sense of their interdependence.”94 Trousers for women continued to feature. The Christian socialist Oneida community founded in New York State in 1848, for example, promoted pantaloons for women due to a belief that, as Luck puts it, “there was an intimate connection between the form or style of dress and the social freedom of its wearers.”95 Around the same time, female trouser-wearing was being promoted in a very different context, recommended by “water-cure” practitioners as an important element of healthy living. The practice was then picked up by leaders of the Women’s Rights movement including Amelia Bloomer, whose name became associated with the style of dress—full trousers and a wide tunic—shown in Figure 6.9.96 Bloomer explained her thinking about this new way of dressing in feminist newspaper The Lily in 1853: The advantages of this style of dress over the old are so apparent, that no good argument can be brought against its adoption; and a silent acknowledgement of woman’s right to fashion her dress according to her own taste and necessities is now yielded on every hand. . . . On every hand we hear the admission of its superiority, and the wish expressed that it might become fashionable.98

Figure 6.9 “Bloomerism,” as shown in this illustration from 1851, was the name given to a new style of dress that included full trousers gathered at the cuff and a wide tunic tied with a sash. The style took its name from Amelia Bloomer, a women’s rights campaigner and dress reformer. For Bloomer and her peers, “Trousers represented physical freedom, and .  .  . being freed from societal restraints.”97

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Figure 6.10 Italian futurist artist Ernesto Michahelles, also known as Thayaht, designed the Tuta in 1919–20. The functional one-piece garment was intended to revolutionize fashion. The pattern was published in the newspaper La Nazione, with a printed pattern available at a modest cost.103 The zero-waste design made efficient use of fabric at a time when the cost of living was high: “all the fabric (4.50 metres, height 0.70) is used and not even a slither is left over.”104 Although the Tuta was intended as a universal item of clothing for everyday use that would abolish class distinctions in clothing, it was actually adopted as a fad by the elite.105

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Despite Bloomer’s enthusiasm and the positive feedback she reports, a backlash against female trouser-wearing soon became overwhelming: campaigners were falsely smeared as having “loose morals,” leading to “public speculation that feminism, and bloomerism, had an undisclosed, anti-social, and immoral agenda.”99 Bloomer and her colleagues reluctantly packed away their pantaloons, fearing that the broader fight for women’s rights would otherwise be compromised. Yet health reformers continued their promotion of a more rational style of dress for both women and men, and trousers for women eventually became socially acceptable in the twentieth century.100​ There were many more initiatives that sought to bring about significant changes to clothing styles in the nineteenth century. In addition to the utopian socialists, feminists and health reformers already mentioned were the members of the Arts and Crafts movement who were “the first design reformers intent on contributing to positive social change through improved design of artefacts [and] textiles”—including garments.101 Moving on to the early twentieth century, various European movements focused on the transformation of dress. The Italian futurists, for example, glorified modernity, speed, technology, and violence; their all-encompassing vision included the aim “to abolish the very system of fashion by designing clothes as works of art.”102 One celebrated example of a futurist clothing design was Thayaht’s Tuta, shown in Figure 6.10. In revolutionary Russia, meanwhile, fashion was considered to be a bourgeois phenomenon and therefore “expected to die together with the social class that produced it.”106 Avant-garde artists brought forward a range of radical proposals, including the destruction of all existing clothing, the creation of styles perfectly suited to the requirements of particular professions and even compulsory identical dress for all citizens.107 Challenging Social Norms The examples discussed so far have proposed approaches to dressing the body that were radical in their time and consciously challenged social norms. To locate an even more transgressive approach, we can turn to fashion systems that involve no clothes at all. Contributors to the Fashion Fictions project have considered the benefits of eliminating clothes: in World 67, for example, a clothing tax leads to nudity becoming common in everyday life (see Box 6.3), while in World 75, plant and flower pigments injected into the skin provide color and decoration in place of clothes.108 While the idea of promoting nudism as the basis for an improved fashion system may seem far-fetched today, a century ago the situation was very different.

Box 6.3 Public nudity in Australia in World 67 has been decriminalized, leading to social acceptance of going “declothed” in everyday life. Due to critical levels of depletion of natural resources from overconsumption of clothing, the Australian government was forced to enact a clothing tax in the 1980s. The substantial increase to the cost of clothing sparked changes in public attitudes towards nudity. Prolific protests regarding people’s right to be naked in public eventually led to changes in law. In this nude world, clothing has become disconnected from the everyday, now only worn for special occasions or if the situation necessitates clothing (e.g. PPE [personal protective equipment]). Evie Rosa, Australia

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Dress historian Annebella Pollen, who has researched the history of nudism in England, explains that the 1920s and 1930s saw a range of bold experiments led by artists and intellectuals across various aspects of culture—including nudism. She indicates that nudists “varied in their commitment to the cause and inhabited a range of positions on a spectrum of belief,” from strategies that promoted occasional nude sunbathing alongside reformed dress styles to utopian fantasies for an entirely naked world that bordered on science fiction.109 This radical position was reflected in the way that clothes were discussed: Pollen quotes 1930s sources that describe garments as “dirty cloth jails,” a “tyranny,” and “the iron chains which civilisation and custom have riveted on suffering humanity.”110 J. C. Flugel, a British psychologist, wrote an influential book titled The Psychology of Clothes in 1930. In the final chapter, “The Future of Dress,” Flugel demonstrates his appreciation for the nudist cause by concluding that “dress is, after all, destined to be but an episode in the history of humanity.”111 Pollen explains that nudism was driven by a strident desire to solve contemporary social problems: Relations between the sexes would be improved, and a whole host of sexual neuroses—understood to include adultery, prostitution, and masturbation—were expected to “vanish” along with clothing and its production of false modesty and shame. Other nudists went still further and predicted a reduction in greed, the spatial reorganization of city life, population control, and pacifism among its potential effects. From a sustainability perspective, it is particularly interesting that another motivation for the nudist movement was the intention to escape industrialization and re-establish a deep connection with nature that had, as

Figure 6.11  The nudist movement in England promoted the benefits of life without clothes. Its most radical thinkers, as dress historian Annebella Pollen describes, “dared to dream of futurist worlds in which clothes would be entirely abandoned or conceptually completely redrawn.”115 Other nudists were more pragmatic, promoting the health benefits of occasional nude sunbathing. This photograph shows unclothed attendees at the first conference of nudist organizations in England in 1934.

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discussed earlier, been diminished by modernity. As Pollen explains, “what was being sloughed off with clothes was the worst of mechanized modernity, with its manifold complexities and artificialities. Nudism offered not only a means of simplification but also the potential for holistic unity with what was natural and enduring.” She quotes Noel Poynter, an influential nudist, who instructed, “Dig down to the hard rock of the essential, cast off the tawdry accumulation of convention, and all the petty personal trash that the world has grafted on the individual spirit. Cast it off, I say!”112 How were these radical proposals received by wider society? Pollen reports that responses ranged from amusement to horror. The movement came up against practical challenges too, not least the need for clothing to provide protection in the cold British climate. Although the movement’s boldest ambitions did not come to pass—nudism on London’s Regent Street did not become the norm, as had been hoped—the reformist wing did influence wider dress practices. Pollen explains that “the visions of the English moderates, with their ambition for lighter-weight washable clothes and sunbathing in a minimum of attire, gained steady traction during the 1930s as part of a general relaxation of dress and manners.”113 And although the utopian nudists’ ambitions were not realized, their radical agenda, which sought “a deconstruction of all social propriety in search of a new future,”114 still has much to offer those seeking to challenge the accepted norms of fashion today.​ Domestic and Custom Making Another potential area of focus when attempting to imagine alternative fashion systems is production: the question of where and how clothes are made. The worlds submitted to the Fashion Fictions project, when read collectively, reveal a strong interest in homemade clothes, do-it-yourself practices, and craft skills. In World 30, for example, “sewing became an unstoppable trend among young people, unleashing a wave of creativity with sustainability at its heart.”116 While this may seem like an unattainable dream to us now given the dominance of industrial production, domestic making was entirely normal in many historical fashion systems. As an example, we will examine a historical period that saw a conscious increase in domestic making practices: the revolution which took place in the British American colonies in the second half of the eighteenth century. In the 1760s, Britain imposed taxes on its American colonies and strictly enforced restrictions that required the purchase of British materials. This move was met with resistance; colonists boycotted British goods and focused their efforts on domestic production. As historian Anne L. Macdonald explains, “women ardently supported the boycott of British goods by alleging that ‘naught but homespun’ would cloak their bodies and that spinning wheels and knitting needles would doom ‘foreign manufactures.’”117 To support the drive for home production, spinning bees were organized where women assembled to spin and knit for hours on end. These social events became highly popular and even competitive, with groups competing to maximize their output.118 Newspapers publicized impressive production records. For example: “One man, with the help of his wife and children, completed in one year five hundred yards of linen and woolen cloth from materials raised on his farm.”119 As time went on, the wearing of homespun cloth became commonplace but when war broke out in 1775, the need for clothing for the troops prompted a renewed focus on domestic making. As MacDonald reports, “Women tackled their knitting with a vengeance and vaunted their speed and productivity.”120 There are countless other examples of domestic making in historical fashion systems that we could explore; as indicated earlier, making skills would have been widespread in many periods, particularly before the development of industrial mass production. At times, these movements have been consciously political; a particularly famous example would be Mahatma Gandhi’s involvement in the swadeshi movement in India, which boycotted British goods and advocated the use of khadi (homespun cloth).121 We can also gain inspiration by looking at examples from later in the twentieth century, such as the speculative Dressing Is Easy 147

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system created by Italian radical architecture group Archizoom in 1972. The system supported do-it-yourself clothing production via a kit of materials, instructions and tools, with the basic component being a piece of fabric measuring seventy centimetres square. According to journalist Chiara Clarke Sivaro, Dressing Is Easy was part of a wider effort by Archizoom and their contemporaries to “wipe the slate clean and demolish capitalism’s modes of production through design.” She explains that the system sought to “[abolish] the distinction between producer and consumer, through the simplification and reduction of the techniques and practical ways of making that required such high levels of specialization in order to produce western culture and the increasingly complex objects it so fetishized.”122 Further insights can be gained through examination of subcultures in which domestic making was commonplace, which arose after ready-made clothes were widely available. Carol Tulloch, a writer and curator specializing in dress and Black identities, has written about the importance of home dressmaking in the Jamaican community in Britain in the 1950s and 1960s. Tulloch draws on the oral history of one woman, Mrs. Anella James, who emigrated from Jamaica to Britain in 1961. Anella was an expert home dressmaker and also made clothes for individual clients in her community, using what she described as a “freehand” approach to dressmaking. As Tulloch explains, “The method rejects the use of paper dress patterns, thereby requiring the dressmaker to possess competence, skill and confidence in order to draw onto, or even cut directly into, the fabric.”123 Tulloch argues that this creative and open-ended method, which enables the maker to incorporate a variety of sources of inspiration, “facilitated . . . the subliminal emotions and meanings in being a Jamaican woman in Britain and the assertion of her own aestheticself and by extension a collective identity.”124 The distinctiveness of the Jamaican community’s homemaking culture was noted by a nineteen-year-old British mod in 1964: “I once went to a West Indian club where everyone made their own clothes. It was fantastic, everyone was individual, everyone was showing themselves as they really wanted to be. [. . .] They were just expressing themselves as everyone should be entitled to do, be it in homes or private clubs or in the streets.”125 It seems, then, that the immigrant Jamaican community had managed to create their own fashion system within the broader system, with its own values and processes of making. In the culture described by Tulloch, we see an overlap between home-making and custom-making practices; again, this would have been common in many historical contexts. In Chapter 2 we discussed making items to measure as an aspect of quality manufacture; such approaches were used as a direct inspiration for outlines contributed to the Fashion Fictions project. In World 52, for example, a global digital network connects artisans and clients.126 The author of this world envisions close relationships between makers and wearers— which, as Tulloch explains, was the case for Anella James and her clients. This is a stark contrast to the situation in the contemporary mainstream fashion system, in which garments are typically mass-produced far from the locations in which they will be sold and worn.

Local Production and Local Distinctiveness Several of the speculative outlines submitted to the Fashion Fictions project demonstrate an interest in commercial clothing production becoming more closely entangled with everyday life. In World 14, for example, the collapse of the globalized fashion industry leads to the development of a system in which subsidized factory production is accessible to local people.127 It can be difficult for those who have grown up in the era of globalized production to imagine a system in which manufacture is both accessible and meaningful. To provide an insight we can look to an example from history: the hand-knitting industry of Dentdale, a valley in the rural Yorkshire Dales region of England.

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Figure 6.12  In the Yorkshire Dales, a vibrant hand-knitting industry thrived for centuries. As knitting historians Marie Hartley and Joan Ingilby explain, “In the lonely outposts of hamlet and village traditions were carried on that had been long forgotten in the busier lowland country. Knitting was a traditional craft; and skill in it was passed on from one generation to another. It was no idle pursuit to be picked up at odd moments.”130 Knitters in Wensleydale, shown in this print from 1814, produced stockings and other items for domestic use and export, like the knitters in the nearby valley of Dentdale. “Wensley Dale knitters,” New York Public Library Digital Collections.131

A book first published in 1951, The Old Hand-Knitters of the Dales, draws on a range of sources dating back to the nineteenth century along with oral history accounts and provides a fascinating account of a craft tradition that is deeply rooted in place. As the authors, Marie Hartley and Joan Ingilby, explain, “For over three centuries knitting was an automatic employment every day during all the working hours of many men, women, and children throughout the dales.”128 Because the area was so remote, the craft continued long after industrial work had become the norm in urban areas. The knitters produced stockings, caps, gloves, mittens, and jerseys that were sold at local centers of trade and to London merchants, and became renowned for their skill and productivity.129​ Hartley and Ingilby explain that the Dent knitters knitted incessantly, and emphasize that the sociable nature of their culture would have contrasted sharply with working life in the mills of Manchester, just sixty miles away. In a book written in 1868, Adam Sedgwick, an academic who grew up in Dent, reflected—with evident nostalgia—on his early years: While speaking of the habits and manners of my country-women, I may remark that their industry had then a social character. Their machinery and the material of their fabrics they constantly bore about with them. Hence the knitters of Dent had the reputation of being lively gossips; and they worked together in little clusters—not in din and confinement like that of a modern manufactory— but each one following the leading of her fancy; whether among her friends, or rambling in the sweet scenery of the valley.132

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Knitting was so embedded in everyday life that groups would meet in the evenings to knit and socialize, as Sedgwick went on to describe: They took their seats; and then began the work of the evening; and with a speed that cheated the eye they went on with their respective tasks. Beautiful gloves were thrown off complete; and worsted stockings made good progress. There was no dreary deafening noise of machinery; but there was the merry heart-cheering sound of the evening’s talk. They had their ghost tales; and their love tales; and their battles of jests and riddles; and their ancient songs of enormous length, yet heard by ears that were never weary.133 This intermingling of productive work and social time, while perhaps romanticized, is reminiscent of the spinning bees in the American colonies described earlier. It also connects with ideas found in various worlds contributed to Fashion Fictions: the speculative outlines show notable interest in the creation of spaces for people to make and mend together. In World 30, for example, the popularity of sewing is supported by government schemes to place sewing machines in libraries, and these shared making spaces become vibrant social and creative hubs.134 The historical sources quoted in The Old Hand-Knitters of the Dales also mention the importance of the area’s knitting schools, which taught children the craft skills needed to join the local making culture.135 Again, this connects to interests recorded in the fictional fashion systems—such as World 83 where sewing is a highly regarded core school subject, meaning that textile-related skills are widespread in the community.136 World 91 also focuses on school education but takes a different approach, envisaging sewing, theatre, ecology, and mindfulness as the central pillars of the curriculum (see Box 6.4).

Box 6.4 In World 91 in 2010 Caroline Lucas became the UK’s first Green Prime Minister. Lucas redefined STEM subjects in schools. Through the new “Sewing, Theatre, Ecology, and Mindfulness” curriculum an ecologically minded generation of thinkers emerged who adopted mushrooms as their non-human spiritual guides. Every Friday a Mushroom-themed Mardi Gras fills the streets. Fantastical costumes made from fungi fabrics adorn floats. Headdresses are shaped like giant puffballs; wings are coloured in shades of green by shingled hedgehog mushrooms and fans shaped like oyster mushrooms are waved at spectators. A magical night of festivities follows paying homage to Lucas and the mushroom guides. Suzanne Rowland, UK

Yet another notable aspect of the Dent knitters’ culture is the traditional patterns used: they were known for their gloves, knitted in distinctive two-color designs. The gloves can be seen as an element of the area’s “local distinctiveness”: the elements that make a particular place unique. As Sue Clifford and Angela King explain, these elements are constantly evolving and encompass “the invisible as well as the visible: symbols, festivals and legends stand alongside hedgerows, hills and houses”—and, in the context of Dent, knitwear.137 The outlines submitted to Fashion Fictions demonstrate great interest in local distinctiveness. In World 42, for example, mass production is rejected in favor of locally derived archetypes, or “base-lines”;138 in World 81, global supply chains are terminated and localized fashions emerge.139 150

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Figure 6.13  This smock frock, thought to come from Norfolk, a county in the East of England, dates from around 1900. It is made from brown linen and features elaborate embroidery on the front, back, collar, and cuffs. This vibrant workingclass form of dress contrasted sharply with the dark, pared-down aesthetic of mainstream menswear. By the early twentieth century, the smock had come to be seen as “impractical, old fashioned and cumbersome.”145.

In these speculative stories of local distinctiveness, it is not just production that is localized, but also cultural meaning. Another English traditional item provides insights into a historical culture with readily apparent local distinctiveness: the smock, or smock frock. The smock was a practical everyday item commonly worn in the nineteenth century by working men, often sold ready-made or secondhand. It is constructed from squares and triangles without any fabric waste (making it a zero-waste item, as discussed in Chapter 2) with gathering at center front and center back held in place by decorative stitching (smocking) in horizontal bands, plus distinctive chain-stitch motifs.140 In an interesting link with the dress reform campaigns discussed earlier in the chapter, the smock was celebrated by the Arts and Crafts movement in the nineteenth century and by dress reformers in the early twentieth century. According to expert Alison Toplis, the reformers appreciated the smock’s freedom of movement and its image as an authentic “folk” style.141 Yet this image of the smock as an unchanging traditional item has concealed its role as a dynamic element of vibrant localized fashion cultures.142 Particular places were known for their distinctive smock styles, such as the indigo-dyed smocks of Newark-on-Trent and the caped smocks popular in the Welsh borders.143 Moreover, Toplis explains, the decorated smock frock was part of a “complex aesthetic” that provided a way for working men to express themselves and gain kudos within their communities: “The smock frock represented a way of dressing that was antithetical to fashionable male dress, ‘an island of identity’ which suggested some other world that the elite were not party to, beyond their control and grounded in community pride and the practical realities of the environment.”144 These locally distinctive styles and meanings are a stark contrast to the homogeneous fashions generated by the mainstream fashion system today.​ Restricting and Managing Production We will now consider a final aspect of historical and fictional fashion systems: the volume of production. As stated earlier, the volume of clothes produced worldwide has increased dramatically in recent decades and continues to rise, driven by the capitalist system’s ethos of growth. Kate Fletcher and Mathilda Tham 151

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argue in their influential publication Earth Logic that transitioning to a fashion system based on much lower production levels will be difficult, but necessary: “LESS is the largest provocation associated with transition to sustainability. Here lies the greatest temptation to veer into techno fixes. Yet, only by staying with the trouble of less can the scale of change deemed necessary be achieved.”146 Contributors to the Fashion Fictions project are keen to imagine systems based on dramatically reduced levels of production and consumption. Some speculate on the imposition of set limits for consumption: in World 58, for example, each family has a monthly carbon budget for all daily necessities including clothing,147 while in World 106, each citizen receives 20 kilograms of silk yarn as their birthright.148 Historical insights could help us to contemplate more fully a system with controlled consumption: we could, for example, examine the practices that developed during the rationing of the Second World War, as discussed in Chapter 3. Various Fashion Fictions contributors imagine systems based on the issuing of standardized garments in order to remove the excess production and consumption associated with choice and changing fashions. In World 64, for example, uniform garments are issued to all citizens, prompting people to use diverse accessories to express the self (see Box 6.5). These ideas echo ideas such as the Tuta shown in Figure 6.10 and the JUMPSUIT project in Figure 6.3. An alternative interpretation would be to halt the production of new clothes entirely, as is proposed in several of the Fashion Fictions worlds.

Box 6.5 In World 64 garments are distributed by the government as a plain uniform due to tight restrictions on non-essential items as all resources became state-owned to avoid runaway depletion in the 90s. Self-expression now comes through small accessories interchangeably attached to the uniform’s surface. Different trends coexist inside this resource-light way to experience fashion and connect people to the others they see as their peers. Some use small parts of fabric that are often fragments of garments worn by pop icons before the regulations were instated and traded online as high-value items. Others make decorations from found objects with personal value, or make things from materials found in nature to personalise the functional base of the uniform. Laetitia Forst, UK

Some historical periods have seen proposals that allow choice in dress but focus on the management of production and consumption to avoid unnecessary excess. Psychologist J. C. Flugel, who was mentioned earlier in relation to the nudism movement, noted two key problems of fashionable dress: expense to the wearer and disruption of the clothing trade when fashion underwent sudden changes. Yet Flugel also recognized the limitations of “fixed” styles—such as uniforms and traditional dress that becomes static, rather than continuing to evolve—in adequately expressing individuality and adapting to changing times. He highlighted the need for coordinated action to establish a balance between the two: “Costume must be freed, alike from the ruinous competition and commercialism of fashion, and from the unadaptable conservatism of ‘fixed’ dress. . . . It would seem likely that only concerted action can attain these ends; both for social and for economic reasons, the individual is relatively helpless.”149 Flugel recommended the creation of a “Clothing Board” and described in some detail how the board would assess public feeling and coordinate the work of designers to manage changes in clothing.150

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Feminist historian Sheila Rowbotham highlights an earlier and more detailed proposal for the management of the fashion system that took place following the French Revolution of 1848, when workers and middleclass radicals overthrew the government of King Louis-Philippe. As Rowbotham explains, the capitalist economy was in a period of dramatic transformation at this time, with the clothing trades shifting from custom making to the production of ready-made clothing. During a period of struggle immediately after the revolution, workers were seeking to have their needs met. Working-class women put forward various demands for the reorganization of work, including equal pay, shorter hours, crèches, and training centers. These ideas were developed through intense discussion in cooperative associations, women’s clubs, and women’s journals.151 Jeanne Deroin, a self-educated dressmaker and committed feminist, was particularly far-sighted in her thinking. As Rowbotham explains, Deroin “turn[ed] her attention to the overall economic context of producer co-operatives and search[ed] for a means of transition from a capitalist organisation of production to a co-operative society.”152 Her proposal? A federation of workers’ associations that would “establish equilibrium between production and consumer needs.”153 In practical terms, the federation would monitor the number of workers in each trade, making adjustments where necessary to avoid unemployment, and provide research into consumer needs and production methods. A social fund, funded by workers’ contributions, would provide financial support for new associations. Goods and services would be exchanged directly between the workers, with their relative value managed by the associations to ensure fairness. In Deroin’s own words: “The hairdressers will do the hair of the shoemakers who will supply their footwear.”154 Rowbotham explains that through this proposal, Deroin was addressing the core issues of capitalism: “she had envisaged the means of production becoming gradually the collective property of the entire society. . . . Profit and private capital would no longer be necessary.”155 The federation that Deroin proposed was set up, with 400 affiliated associations. However, the authorities considered the organization to be subversive and its leaders, including Deroin, were arrested.156 While this vision of cooperative planned production was short lived, we may still find inspiration in the story today as we seek to generate new visions for the fashion industry.

Thinking Critically In this chapter we have argued for the need to pursue radical alternatives to the current fashion system, rather than restricting ourselves to initiatives that tackle only particular aspects. To do so we need to challenge both the norms of fashion and the structure of the global economy: an undeniably daunting task. Yet surveys of the public across the world consistently indicate that a majority think that the environment should be prioritized, even if it damages economic growth.157 Some might consider the post-growth thinking explored in this chapter as naive; in response, we would highlight the words of Fletcher and Tham in Earth Logic: Questioning the economic growth logic causes resistance, with a number of strategies kicking in, typically: ridiculing, the directing of attention elsewhere (whataboutism), discreditation of the messenger. . . . [Yet] today more and more people are seeing that it is business-as-usual that is illogical. If we really want to save this beautiful planet, future generations of all species including ourselves, our livelihoods and those of future generations, we must place earth first. We must dare to take a leap out of the current paradigm.158

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Figure 6.14  The Fashion Fictions project highlights the value of imagining alternative worlds in deconstructing embedded assumptions about societal progress and the role of the fashion system. The project’s prototyping workshops explore the potential of embodied, material exploration in opening up radical ideas about how we might live differently with our clothes. The collage being constructed here represents World 19, in which fashion is in the service of nature.161

Stories from history carry radical potential, as understanding of past cultures can be of great help in imagining fundamentally different ways of fashioning our identities in the future. The selection of examples offered in this chapter is limited both by space and by the geographical and historical scope of the book. There are many more stories to be told, particularly by exploring cultures beyond the United States and the United Kingdom. The sustainable fashion movement will be enriched by embracing plurality and investigating the abundance of fashion systems that have thrived outside the globalized mainstream. One note of caution: it is important that we are respectful when seeking to learn about cultures that we have not experienced directly, and are wary of the risks of cultural appropriation. In a 2021 conference presentation, Timo Rissanen highlighted the value of indigenous knowledge in exploring alternative fashion systems but also recognized that taking this knowledge out of context could inadvertently perpetuate the extractive mindset that characterizes coloniality. In response to the advice of Aboriginal author Tyson Yunkaporta, who suggests that “The assistance people need is not in learning about Aboriginal Knowledge but in remembering their own,”159 Rissanen sought to “find the connection to living in kinship with earth and all her inhabitants in our own timelines” by looking to his great-grandparents’ lives in rural Finland. As he explained, “Standing in the foundations of my greatgrandfather’s home in 2015, looking at the fields that would have provided the grain for his bread, forests with fowl and timber, the lakes with fish, our interdependence on earth’s systems was clear as day.”160​ When looking to history for inspiration there is a danger of becoming nostalgic: of looking at the past with rose-tinted spectacles. When examining specific historical periods it is important to be aware of their problems and injustices. For the examples discussed in this chapter, these would include the eugenicist ideas that often intermingled with the campaign for nudism, the misogyny that cut short Amelia Bloomer’s dress reform and Jeanne Deroin’s effort to reorganize clothing production, and the violent oppression of indigenous and Black people in North America that took place before, during and after the drive for homespun cloth. Awareness of these realities should prevent us from romanticizing—and thereby simplifying—past eras. Furthermore, it is important to acknowledge that none of the historical fashion systems discussed in this chapter have continued intact to the present day; many of the utopian propositions could even be deemed a failure. Yet it would be rash to reject these stories outright; we can still learn from historical periods, even if they have problematic aspects or did not thrive over time. As design theorist Cameron Tonkinwise argues, 154

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“de-progressive design does not mean returning to how things were,” because this would be both undesirable and impossible.162 Instead, we must find ways to draw on ideas and practices from the past but consciously shape them for the contemporary context. Ultimately, we may find renewed value in the slogan of Russian Constructivist Vladimir Tatlin: “Not toward the new, not toward the old, but toward what is necessary.”163 Further Reading There are many excellent sources referenced in this chapter that will provide insights into the historical development of the mainstream fashion system. Adorned in Dreams: Fashion and Modernity by Elizabeth Wilson (University of California Press, 1987) is a good place to start. To learn more about historical utopian visions for fashion, try a highly engaging video, The Rational Dress Society presents A History of CounterFashion: https://youtu​.be​/xFs​-2cP1csE. Annebella Pollen’s book Nudism in a Cold Climate: The Visual Culture of Naturists in Mid-20th Century Britain (Atelier Editions, 2022) includes a fascinating examination of the nudists of the 1920s and 1930s—and their ideas about clothing, which remain provocative today. To gain inspiration for the transformation of today’s fashion system, Earth Logic Fashion Action Research Plan by Kate Fletcher and Mathilda Tham (2019) is an essential reading: https://earthlogic​.info. Designing Fashion’s Future: Present Practice and Tactics for Sustainable Change by Alice Payne (Bloomsbury, 2021) also provides vital insights. Rebecca Burgess’s book Fibershed: Growing a Movement of Farmers, Fashion Activists, and Makers for a New Textile Economy (Chelsea Green Publishing, 2019) is valuable in profiling the hands-on work of transformation.

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In her 2019 book Future Histories, writer Lizzie O’Shea questions what history can teach us about digital technology. While O’Shea tackles a different area of interest to that explored in this book, her discussion has much to offer our thinking about the role of historical perspectives in today’s sustainable fashion movement. She draws on the writing of American writer and critic Van Wyck Brooks, who in 1918 proposed what he called a “usable past.” As O’Shea explains, The purpose of a usable past is not simply to be a record of history. Rather, by building a shared appreciation of moments and traditions in collective history, a usable past is a method for creating the world we want to see. It is about “cutting the cloth” of history, as Brooks put it, to suit a particular agenda. It is an argument for what the future could look like, based on what kinds of traditions are worth valuing and which moments are worth remembering.1 O’Shea compiles a range of historical examples that shed light on today’s digital technology. Just as in this book, there are stories of radical ideas being explored in practice, hypothetical proposals that never came to fruition, and cautionary tales of well-intentioned initiatives that failed to achieve their aims. O’Shea sees value in all these stories. She quotes Brooks, who highlights the importance of stories of the past: “Knowing that others have desired the things we desire and have encountered the same obstacles, would not the creative forces of this country lose a little of the hectic individualism that keeps them from uniting against their common enemies?”2 In this book, we have tried to, in O’Shea’s words, “start a conversation about how certain histories are critical to the task of designing our future.”3 We have been particularly concerned with the deterioration in planetary health driven by human activity, with a focus on the impacts of the globalized fashion system. Driven by the fact that “The scale and magnitude of global consumption, especially in urban areas, is affecting global resource flows and planetary cycles,”4 we have sought to address fashion’s deeply embedded culture of overconsumption. In Chapter 1 we explored the history of the materials from which our clothes are made, considering their ecological impacts and the development of less harmful alternatives. In Chapter 2 we discussed the dramatic shifts in the way that clothes are designed, made, and used that have unfolded since the Industrial Revolution. In Chapter 3 we turned to the reuse and recycling of fibers, fabrics, and garments, considering the long history of these practices in various contexts. Chapter 4 placed attention on the experiences of those who make our clothes and investigated the long-running battle for decent working conditions. In Chapter 5 we looked at the ethical treatment of animals in the fashion industry, with a particular focus on the historical use of feathers and fur. Chapter 6 zoomed out to take a holistic view of the globalized mainstream fashion system, including the development of capitalism, and explored historical alternatives that demonstrate the possibility of radically different fashion systems. Radical ideas are certainly needed if we are to reduce our carbon emissions by the 91–95 percent specified by ecological economists. In the words of folklorist Henry Glassie, history can, and should, “equip people for their trip into the future.”5 We hope that we have provided you with some valuable starting points to work from as we take this trip together.

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NOTES

Introduction 1 Kenneth Bartlett, The Experience of History: An Introduction to History (Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2016), 2. 2 Henry Glassie, “The Practice and Purpose of History,” The Journal of American History 81, no. 3 (1994): 966. 3 IPCC, “Summary for Policymakers of IPCC Special Report on Global Warming of 1.5oC Approved by Governments,” News Release (October 8, 2018). Available from https://www​.ipcc​.ch​/site​/assets​/uploads​/2018​/11​/pr​ _181008​_P48​_spm​_en​.pdf/ [Accessed September 25, 2021]. 4 Ha-Joon Chang, “Economics, Science Fiction, History and Comparative Studies,” in Economic Science Fictions, ed. William Davies (London: Goldsmiths Press, 2018), 40. 5 “About Earth Overshoot Day,” Available from https://www​.overshootday​.org​/about/ [Accessed January 30, 2022]. 6 “Measuring Sustainable Development,” Available from https://data​.footprintnetwork​.org/#​/sus​tain​able​Deve​lopment​ ?cn​=all​,231​&type​=earth​&yr​=2017 [Accessed January 30, 2022]. 7 “About Earth Overshoot Day.” 8 UN Environment, “Global Environment Outlook 6,” Available from https://www​.unep​.org​/resources​/global​ -environment​-outlook-6 [Accessed February 24, 2022]. 9 WWF, Living Planet Report 2020: Bending the Curve of Biodiversity Loss (Gland: WWF, 2020), 3. 10 UN Environment, Global Environment Outlook – GEO-6: Summary for Policymakers (Nairobi, 2019), 20, doi:10.1017/9781108639217. 11 Simon Dresner, The Principles of Sustainability, 2nd edition (London: Earthscan, 2008), 2. 12 Planetary Boundaries, “Stockholm Resilience Centre,” Available from https://www​.stockholmresilience​.org​/research​ /planetary​-boundaries​.html [Accessed January 30, 2022]. 13 G. H. Brundtland, Our Common Future: Report of the World Commission on Environment and Development (1987). Available from http://www​.un​-documents​.net​/our​-common​-future​.pdf [Accessed January 30, 2022]. 14 Christoph D. D. Rupprecht, Joost Vervoort, Chris Berthelsen et al., “Multispecies Sustainability,” Global Sustainability 3 (2020): e34, 1, doi:10.1017/sus.2020.28. 15 Ibid., 1. 16 Kirsi Niinimäki, Greg Peters, Helena Dahlbo et al., “The Environmental Price of Fast Fashion,” Nature Reviews Earth & Environment 1 (2020), doi:10.1038/s43017-020-0039-9. 17 New Economics Foundation, The Happy Planet Index: 2012 Report (London, 2012), 51. Available from https:// neweconomics​.org​/2012​/06​/happy​-planet​-index​-2012​-report/ [Accessed January 30, 2022]. 18 “Climate Demonstrators Invade Louis Vuitton Catwalk Show,” Digital Journal (October 5, 2021). Available from https://www​.digitaljournal​.com​/world​/climate​-demonstrators​-invade​-louis​-vuitton​-catwalk​-show/ [Accessed January 30, 2022]. 19 Sandy Black, Eco-Chic: The Fashion Paradox (London: Black Dog, 2008), 46. 20 Kate Fletcher, Sustainable Fashion & Textiles: Design Journeys, 2nd ed. (Abingdon: Routledge, 2014), 3. 21 Kate Fletcher and Mathilda Tham, Earth Logic Fashion Action Research Plan (London: The J J Charitable Trust, 2019), 11.

Notes 22 Lynda Grose, “Lynda Grose Keynote – Fashion and Sustainability: Where We Are and Where We Need to Be,” Fashion Practice 11, no. 3 (2019): 292–3. 23 Lisa Lockwood, “Makers Begin Offering Planet-Friendly Lines,” WWD (November 6, 1991), 17. 24 Grose, “Lynda Grose Keynote – Fashion and Sustainability,” 292–3. 25 Sasha Rabin Wallinger, “A History of Sustainability in Fashion,” in Routledge Handbook of Sustainability and Fashion, ed. Kate Fletcher and Mathilda Tham (Abingdon: Routledge, 2015), 155. 26 Jessica Hemmings, “Well Fashioned: Eco Style in the UK,” Selvedge 12 (2006): 88. 27 Wallinger, “A History of Sustainability in Fashion,” 156. 28 Glassie, “The Practice and Purpose of History,” 963. 29 Matilda Aspinall, “Back to the Future of Fashion Past: Re-Fashioning Future Garment Making” (PhD thesis, University of the Arts London, 2019).

Chapter 1 1 Transformers Foundation, Cotton: A Case Study in Misinformation (New York, 2021), 7. Available from https:// www​.tra​nsfo​rmer​sfou​ndation​.org​/cotton​-report​-2021 [Accessed January 30, 2022]. 2 M. D. C. Crawford, The Ways of Fashion (New York: G. Putnam’s Sons, 1941), 130. 3 Sandy Black, Eco-Chic: The Fashion Paradox (London: Black Dog, 2008), 106. 4 Giorgio Riello, Cotton: The Fabric that Made the Modern World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 4. 5 Beverly Lemire, Cotton (Oxford: Berg, 2011), 66. 6 Riello, Cotton, 4. 7 Lemire, Cotton, 40. 8 Elizabeth Wilson, Adorned in Dreams: Fashion and Modernity (London: Virago Press, 1985), 68. 9 Lemire, Cotton, 86. 10 Edward C. Bates, “The Story of the Cotton Gin,” in Cotton and the Growth of the American Economy: 1790–1860, ed. Stuart Bruchey (May 1890; repr. New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, Inc., 1967), 53. 11 Eli Whitney, “Eli Whitney Tells His Father About the Invention,” in Cotton and the Growth of the American Economy: 1790–1860, ed. Stuart Bruchey (1793; repr. New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, Inc., 1967), 61. 12 Stuart Bruchey, ed., Cotton and the Growth of the American Economy: 1790–1860 (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, Inc., 1967), 7. 13 Ibid., 13. 14 Martin Bide, “Fiber Sustainability: Green is not Black + White,” in The Fashion Reader: Second Edition, ed. Linda Welters and Abby Lillethun (Oxford: Berg, 2011), 577. 15 T. B. Thorpe, “Cotton and its Cultivation,” Harper’s New Monthly Magazine XLV (February, 1854), vol. VIII, 174. 16 Kate Fletcher, Sustainable Fashion & Textiles: Design Journeys, 2nd ed. (Abingdon: Routledge, 2014), 13. 17 Transformers Foundation, Cotton, 37. 18 Fletcher, Sustainable Fashion & Textiles, 13. 19 Black, Eco-Chic, 132. 20 Rebecca Burgess, Fibershed: Growing a Movement of Farmers, Fashion Activists, and Makers for a New Textile Economy (White River Junction, VT: Chelsea Green Publishing, 2019), 157. 21 Anne Buck, Dress in Eighteenth Century England (New York: Holmes and Meier Publishers, Inc., 1979), 186. 160

Notes 22 Ibid., 187. 23 Arthur Harrison Cole, The American Wool Manufacture (New York: Harper & Row Publishers, 1969), vol. I, 53. 24 D. T. Jenkins and K. G. Ponting, The British Wool Textile Industry, 1770–1914 (London: Heinemann Educational Books, 1982), 80. 25 Ibid., 151. 26 Esther S. Hochstim, Women’s Attitudes Toward Wool and Other Fibers, no. 153 (Washington, DC: US Department of Agriculture, Agricultural Marketing Service, 1957), 20. 27 Ibid., 5. 28 World Apparel Fibre Consumption Survey (Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, 1985), 2–3. 29 Textile Exchange, Preferred Fiber & Materials: Market Report 2020 (Textile Exchange, 2020), 5. 30 Mary Schoeser, Silk (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2007), 11. 31 Burgess, Fibershed, 163. 32 Schoeser, Silk, 184. 33 Burgess, Fibershed, 163. 34 Fletcher, Sustainable Fashion & Textiles, 36. 35 F. D. Lewis, The Chemistry and Technology of Rayon Manufacture (Surrey: Love and Malcomson, Ltd., 1961), ix. 36 Ellen Leopold, “The Manufacture of the Fashion System,” in Chic Thrills: A Fashion Reader, ed. Juliet Ash and Elizabeth Wilson (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993), 114. 37 Paul David Blanc, Fake Silk: The Lethal History of Viscose Rayon (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2016). 38 Viscose Company, The Story of Rayon (New York: The Viscose Company, 1929), 13. 39 “The Loveliness of Rayon Proclaimed by Drecoll,” advertisement. Vogue (March 1, 1928), 24b. 40 Approx. $14.90 to 59.14 in 2021. Source: United States Department of Labor, Bureau of Labor Statistics, CPI Inflation Calculator. Available from http://www​.bls​.gov​/data​/inflation​_calculator​.htm [Accessed April 10, 2021]. 41 Dilys E. Blum, Shocking! The Art and Fashion of Elsa Schiaparelli (Philadelphia: Philadelphia Museum of Art, 2003), 34. 42 Fletcher, Sustainable Fashion & Textiles, 18–19. 43 Clarice Louisba Scott, Women’s Dresses and Slips: A Buying Guide (Washington, DC: US Department of Agriculture, 1940), 2. 44 25 Years of Nylon (Wilmington, DE: Textile Fibers Dept., E. I. Du Pont de Nemours and Co., 1964), 23. 45 Carol J. Salusso, “Nylon,” in Encyclopedia of Clothing and Fashion, ed. Valerie Steele (Detroit: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 2005), 461. 46 Allen C. Cohen, Nylon, Polyester and Acrylic Fibers: Producers and History of Market Conditions (New York: Fashion Institute of Technology, Department of Textile Science, 1969), 5. 47 Scott, Women’s Dresses and Slips, 5. 48 Esther S. Hochstim, Women’s Opinions of Cotton and Other Fibers in Selected Items of Clothing (Washington, DC: US Department of Agriculture, Agriculture Marketing Service, 1956), i. 49 Kohle Yohannan and Nancy Nolf, Claire McCardell: Redefining Modernism (New York: Harry N. Abrams, 1998), 112. 50 Davis Jones, “As Washable in December . . . ,” New York Times (September 28, 1958), SMA34. 51 Hochstim, Women’s Opinions of Cotton and Other Fibers, 21. 52 Fletcher, Sustainable Fashion & Textiles, 17. 53 Salusso, “Nylon,” 462. 161

Notes 54 David Brunnschweiler and John Hearle, eds., Polyester: Tomorrow’s Ideas and Profits, Fifty Years of Achievement (Manchester: The Textile Institute, 1993), 45. 55 Sidney G. Cooper, The Textile Industry: Environmental Control and Energy Conservation (Park Ridge, NJ: Noyes Date Corp., 1978), 1. 56 Isadore Barmash, “Polyester Emerges from the Shadow of Nylon,” New York Times (May 1, 1966), 159. 57 Textile Exchange, Preferred Fiber & Materials, 5. 58 Changing Markets Foundation, Fossil Fashion: The Hidden Reliance of Fast Fashion on Fossil Fuels (Changing Markets Foundation, 2021), 13. 59 Fletcher, Sustainable Fashion & Textiles, 16–17. 60 Changing Markets Foundation, Fossil Fashion, 27. 61 Ibid. 62 Ibid., 29. 63 Ibid., 20. 64 Alexandra Freitas, Guoping Zhang and Ruth Mathews, Water Footprint Assessment Of Polyester And Viscose (The Hague: Water Footprint Network, 2017), 5. 65 Today, cellophane is typically made from petroleum, and its production is not nearly as widespread as it was in the first half of the twentieth century. 66 Mary Ann C. Ferro, “Vinyl as Fashion Fabric,” in Encyclopedia of Clothing and Fashion, ed. Valerie Steele (Detroit, MI: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 2005), 400. 67 Mary Quant, Quant by Quant (New York: Putnam, 1966), 134. 68 Florence Montgomery, Printed Textiles: English and American Cottons and Linens (New York: The Viking Press, 1970), 287. 69 W. H. Perkin, Esq., F.R.S., “The Aniline or Coal Tar Colours,” December 7, 1868, Cantor Lectures, Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce (London: W. Trounce, 1869), 4. 70 Ibid., 9. 71 “Colors from Coal Tar,” New York Times (May 4, 1893), 2. 72 “Coal Tar Products Used in Many Ways,” New York Times (June 7, 1915), 5. 73 W. J. Bartrip, “How Green Was My Valance?: Environmental Arsenic Poisoning and the Victorian Domestic Ideal,” The English Historical Review 109, no. 433 (September 1994): 895. 74 Alfred Swaine Taylor M.D., F.R.S., On Poisons in Relation to Medical Jurisprudence and Medicine: Third Edition (Philadelphia: Henry C. Lea, 1875), 340. 75 J. K. Haywood and H. J. Warner, “Arsenic in Papers and Fabrics,” Bureau of Chemistry-Bulletin No. 86 (Washington, DC: US Department of Agriculture, 1904), 7. 76 Swaine Taylor, On Poisons in Relation to Medical Jurisprudence and Medicine, 340. 77 “Plenty of Arsenic,” Fraser’s Magazine, reprinted in New York Times (February 24, 1878), 3. 78 Haywood and Warner, “Arsenic in Papers and Fabrics,” 39. 79 Ibid., 40. 80 Waldemar Kaempffert, “German Scientist Links Incidence of Cancer to the Use of Coal Tar Dyes in Food,” New York Times (September 18, 1949), E11. 81 W. H. Perkin, Esq., F.R.S., “Mauve, Magenta, and Some of Their Derivatives,” December 14, 1868, Cantor Lectures, Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce (London: W. Trounce, 1869), 10. 82 Alice Hamilton, M.A., M.D., Industrial Poisoning in Making Coal-Tar Dyes and Dye Intermediates (Washington, DC: US Department of Labor, Bureau of Labor Statistics, April 1921), 5. 83 Ibid., 7.

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Notes 84 Rudolf Nietzki, Chemistry of the Organic Dyestuffs (London: Gurney & Jackson, 1892), 18. 85 Hamilton, Industrial Poisoning in Making Coal-Tar Dyes and Dye Intermediates, 58. 86 Greenpeace, Toxic Threads: The Big Fashion Stitch-Up (Amsterdam: Greenpeace International, 2012), 24. 87 Bruna de Campos Ventura-Camargo and Maria Aparecida Marin-Morales, “Azo Dyes: Characterization and Toxicity—A Review,” Textiles and Light Industrial Science and Technology (TLIST) 2, no. 2 (April 2013): 87. 88 Ibid., 86. 89 John C. Geyer and William A. Perry, Textile Waste Treatment and Recovery: A Survey of Present Knowledge Concerning the Treatment and Disposal of Waste Waters Produced in the Textile Industries (Washington, DC: The Textile Foundation, Inc., 1938), 17. 90 Anthony S. Travis, “Poisoned Groundwater and Contaminated Soil: The Tribulations and Trial of the First Major Manufacturer of Aniline Dyes in Basel,” Environmental History 2, no. 3 (July 1997): 344. 91 Ibid., 344, 356. 92 Ibid., 351. 93 Rachel Carson, Silent Spring: Fortieth Anniversary Edition (Boston and New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1962), 42. 94 Geyer and Perry, Textile Waste Treatment and Recovery, 7. 95 Ibid. 96 George M. Price, The Modern Factory: Safety, Sanitation, and Welfare (New York: Arno, 1969), 285. 97 Keith Slater, The Environmental Impact of Textiles: Production, Processes, and Protection (Cambridge: Woodhead Publishing, 2000), 87. 98 Carson, Silent Spring, 6. 99 Lynda Grose, “Sustainable Cotton Production,” in Sustainable Textiles: Life Cycle and Environmental Impact, ed. R. S. Blackburn (New York: CRC Press, 2009), 42. 100 Fletcher, Sustainable Fashion & Textiles, 26–7. 101 Tamsin Blanchard, Green is the New Black: How to Change the World with Style (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 2007), 40. 102 Jozef De Coster, “Green Textiles and Apparel: Environmental Impact and Strategies for Improvement,” Textile Outlook International 132 (November–December 2007): 153. 103 Textile Exchange, Preferred Fiber & Materials, 12. 104 Sarah Scaturro, “Eco-Tech Fashion: Rationalizing Technology in Sustainable Fashion,” Fashion Theory 4, no. 12 (2008): 477. 105 Textile Exchange, Organic Cotton: Market Report 2020 (Textile Exchange, 2020), 10. 106 John Patrick, “Color, Magic, and Modern Alchemy,” in FutureFashion: White Papers, ed. Leslie Hoffman (New York: Earth Pledge, 2007), 178. 107 John Patrick, interview by Colleen Hill, August 7, 2013. 108 Burgess, Fibershed, 128. 109 “Profile,” Creditex. Available from http://www​.creditex​.com​.pe​/ingles​/perfil​_certificaciones​.htm [Accessed July 10, 2013]. 110 Textile Exchange, Preferred Fiber & Materials, 12. 111 Ibid., 11. 112 Paula Simmons, Turning Wool into a Cottage Industry (Seattle: Madrona Publishers, 1985), 5. 113 Jasmin Malik Chua, “Wool’s Carbon Footprint Up to 80% Smaller Than Previously Thought,” ecouterre​.co​m. Available from http://www​.ecouterre​.com​/wools​-carbon​-footprint​-up​-to​-80​-smaller​-than​-previously​-thought/ [Accessed January 19, 2012].

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Notes 114 Burgess, Fibershed, 157. 115 Fletcher, Sustainable Fashion & Textiles, 14. 116 “What Is the RSPCA’s View on Mulesing and Flystrike Prevention in Sheep?” RSPCA. Available from https://kb​ .rspca​.org​.au​/knowledge​-base​/what​-is​-the​-rspcas​-view​-on​-mulesing​-and​-flystrike​-prevention​-in​-sheep/ [Accessed January 30, 2022]. 117 Fletcher, Sustainable Fashion & Textiles, 15. 118 Bide, “Fiber Sustainability,” 580. 119 “Organic Wool Fact Sheet,” Organic Trade Association, https://ota​.com​/sites​/default​/files​/indexed​_files​/Org​anic​ Wool​FactSheet​_Final​.pdf [Accessed January 30, 2022]. 120 Jasmin Malik Chua, “Stella McCartney’s Latest Bag is Made From the Wool of Her Own Sheep,” ecouterre​.co​m. Available from http://www​.ecouterre​.com​/stella​-mccartneys​-latest​-bag​-is​-made​-from​-the​-wool​-of​-her​-own​-sheep/ [Accessed March 3, 2013]. 121 Textile Exchange, Preferred Fiber & Materials, 32. 122 Ibid. 123 John W. Roulac, Hemp Horizons: The Comeback of the World’s Most Promising Plant (White River Junction, VT: Chelsea Green Publishing Company, 1997), 30. 124 R. S. Blackburn, Biodegradable and Sustainable Fibres (Cambridge: Woodhead, 2005), 52. 125 Fletcher, Sustainable Fashion & Textiles, 34. 126 Roulac, Hemp Horizons, 131. 127 Lawrence Serbin, “Hemp Goes Straight,” in FutureFashion White Papers (New York: Earth Pledge, 2007), 48. 128 Ibid., 50. 129 Burgess, Fibershed, 136. 130 Ibid., 136–7. 131 Textile Exchange, Preferred Fiber & Materials, 22. 132 Fletcher, Sustainable Fashion & Textiles, 16. 133 Blackburn, Biodegradable and Sustainable Fibres, 55. 134 Fletcher, Sustainable Fashion & Textiles, 16, 34–5. 135 Textile Exchange, Preferred Fiber & Materials, 20. 136 Jacky Watson, Textiles and the Environment (London: Economist Intelligence Unit, 1991), 60. 137 Paul Scheider, “The Cotton Brief,” New York Times (June 20, 1993), 11. 138 Jana Schibli, “Pulp Fabric: Everything You Need to Know About Lyocell,” The Guardian (November 18, 2019). Available from https://www​.theguardian​.com​/fashion​/2019​/nov​/18​/pulp​-fabric​-everything​-you​-need​-to​-know​ -about​-lyocell [Accessed January 30, 2022]. 139 “Sustainability,” Tencel. Available from https://www​.tencel​.com​/sustainability [Accessed January 30, 2022]. 140 Mohd Shabbir and Faqeer Mohammad, “Sustainable Production of Regenerated Cellulosic Fibres,” in Sustainable Fibres and Textiles, ed. Subramanian Senthilkannan Muthu (Duxford: Woodhead Publishing, 2017), 179. 141 Ibid., 180. 142 Schibli, “Pulp Fabric.” 143 “Technologies,” Lenzing. Available from https://www​.lenzing​.com​/sustainability​/production​/technologies [Accessed January 30, 2022]. 144 Marie O’Mahoney, “Sustainable Textiles: Nature or Nurture,” in Shaping Sustainable Fashion: Changing the Way We Make and Use Clothes, ed. Alison Gwilt and Timo Rissanen (London: Earthscan, 2011), 47.

164

Notes 145 Katherine Martinko, “Is Bamboo Fabric Truly Sustainable?” Treehugger (October 7, 2020). Available from https:// www​.treehugger​.com​/is​-bamboo​-fabric​-sustainable​-5078509 [Accessed January 30, 2022]. 146 Todd Copeland, “How Eco-Friendly is Bamboo Fabric, Really?,” ecouterre​.co​m. Available from http://www​ .ecouterre​.com​/how​-eco​-friendly​-is​-bamboo​-fabric​-really/ [Accessed May 14, 2013]. 147 Martinko, “Is Bamboo Fabric Truly Sustainable?” 148 James D. Gallup, “The Textile Effluent Standards Program in 1977,” in Textile Technology/Ecology Interface, 1977, Environmental Sciences Committee of the American Association of Textile Chemists and Colorists Symposium (Research Triangle Park, NC: AATCC, 1977), 39. 149 Marion I. Tobler-Rohr, Handbook of Sustainable Textile Production (Oxford, Philadelphia: Woodhead; Cambridge: In association with the Textile Institute, 2011), 20. 150 Greenpeace, Toxic Threads: Polluting Paradise (Amsterdam: Greenpeace International, 2013), 5. 151 Watson, Textiles and the Environment, 46. 152 Greenpeace, Toxic Threads: The Big Fashion Stitch-Up, 6. 153 J. R. Easton, “Key Sustainability Issues in Textile Dyeing,” in Sustainable Textiles: Life Cycle and Environmental Impact, ed. R. S. Blackburn (New York: CRC Press; Cambridge: Woodhead, 2009), 139. 154 Ibid., 140. 155 Ibid., 147. 156 J. N. Chakraborty, Fundamentals and Practices in Colouration of Textiles (New Delhi, Cambridge and Oxford: Woodhead Publishing India PVT, Ltd., 2010), 382. 157 Ibid., 384. 158 Geyer and Perry, Textile Waste Treatment and Recovery, 21. 159 Chakraborty, Fundamentals and Practices in Colouration of Textiles, 389. 160 Fletcher, Sustainable Fashion & Textiles, 63. 161 Slater, The Environmental Impact of Textiles, 87. 162 Melanie Bowles and Ceri Isaac, Digital Textile Design (London: Laurence King Publishing, 2009), 171. 163 Joanna Kinnersly Taylor, Dyeing and Screen-Printing on Textiles (London: A & C Black, 2003), 113. 164 Holbrook Jackson, William Morris (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1971), 63. 165 Guillermo de Osma, Mariano Fortuny: His Life and Work (New York: Rizzoli, 1980), 115. 166 “American Woman Invents Dye from Autumn Leaves,” New York Times (July 22, 1917), 64. 167 Edith O’Neil MacDonald, “Dye Composition,” United States Patent Office, No. 1,222,433 (April 10, 1917). 168 India Flint, Eco Colour: Botanical Dyes for Beautiful Textiles (Loveland, CO: Interweave, 2008), 24. 169 Changing Markets Foundation, Fossil Fashion, 20. 170 Fletcher, Sustainable Fashion & Textiles, 9. 171 Rebecca Burgess and Jess Daniels, “Questioning the Role of Biosynthetics in Regenerative Fashion,” fibershed​.or​ g. Available from https://fibershed​.org​/2020​/07​/31​/questioning​-the​-role​-of​-biosynthetics​-in​-regenerative​-fashion/ [Accessed April 10, 2021]. 172 Kate Fletcher and Lynda Grose, Fashion & Sustainability: Design for Change (London: Laurence King, 2012), 12. 173 Watson, Textiles and the Environment, 6. 174 Lynda Grose, “Lynda Grose Keynote – Fashion and Sustainability: Where We Are and Where We Need to Be,” Fashion Practice 11, no. 3 (2019): 296. 175 De Coster, “Green Textiles and Apparel,” 143. 176 Textile Exchange, Preferred Fiber & Materials, 5. 177 https://babel​.hathitrust​.org​/cgi​/pt​?id​=uc2​.ark:​/13960​/t0wp9v96f​&view​=1up​&seq​=3.

165

Notes

Chapter 2 1 Nathalie Remy, Eveline Speelman and Steven Swartz, “Style That’s Sustainable: A New Fast Fashion Formula,” McKinsey Sustainability (October 20, 2016). Available from https://www​.mckinsey​.com​/business​-functions​/ sustainability​/our​-insights​/style​-thats​-sustainable​-a​-new​-fast​-fashion​-formula [Accessed January 30, 2022]. 2 Hazel Clark, “SLOW + FASHION—an Oxymoron—or a Promise for the Future . . .?” Fashion Theory: The Journal of Dress, Body & Culture 4, no. 12 (December 2008): 427. 3 Milada Burcikova, “Mundane Fashion: Women, Clothes and Emotional Durability” (PhD thesis, University of Huddersfield, 2019). 4 Tim Cooper, Lynn Oxborrow, Stella Claxton, Helen Hill, Helen Goworek, Angharad McLaren, and Katherine West, Clothing Durability Dozen. Report by Nottingham Trent University for Defra (Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs) (Nottingham: Nottingham Trent University, 2019). Available from https://www​.ntu​.ac​.uk/_​_data​/ assets​/pdf​_file​/0021​/1060770​/08​_01​_20​_TOOLKIT​.pdf [Accessed February 28, 2022]. 5 “Introduction,” Dead White Man’s Clothes. Available from https://dea​dwhi​tema​nsclothes​.org​/intro [Accessed January 30, 2022]. 6 The Or Foundation (@theorispresent), “Still life – Scenes from the Away,” Instagram Post, April 13, 2021, https:// www​.instagram​.com​/p​/CNlqLqsgLSv/. 7 Lorna Wetherill, “Consumer Behavior, Textiles and Dress in the Late Seventeenth and Early Eighteenth Centuries,” in Fashion: Critical and Primary Sources, ed. Peter McNeil (Oxford: Berg, 2009), vol. 2, 164. 8 Translated to Encyclopedia, or a Systematic Dictionary of the Sciences, Arts and Crafts. 9 The Haute Lisse is a particular type of tapestry loom in which the warp threads are stretched vertically before the weaver. 10 James Essinger, Jacquard’s Web: How a Hand-loom Led to the Birth of the Information Age (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 17. 11 Beverly Lemire, “Developing Consumerism and the Ready-made Clothing Trade in Britain, 1750–1800,” in Fashion: Critical and Primary Sources, ed. Peter McNeil (Oxford: Berg, 2009), vol. 2, 242. 12 Essinger, Jacquard’s Web, 17. 13 Richard Marsden, Cotton Spinning: Its Development, Principles, and Practice (London: George Bell and Sons, 1903), 202. 14 Linda Welters, “The Fashion of Sustainability,” in Sustainable Fashion: Why Now? A Conversation Exploring Issues, Practices, and Possibilities, ed. Janet Hethorn and Connie Ulasewicz (New York: Fairchild Books, 2008), 13. 15 Also referred to as a “sack back” gown, the Robe à la Française was distinguished by wide, loose pleats of fabric that hung from the shoulders at the back of the gown. 16 Ibid., 206. 17 There are two types of yarn necessary to weave textiles: a warp, which runs lengthwise, and the weft, which is the traverse thread. Weft threads are usually made of strong fibers, since they have to be woven through the stationary warp threads. 18 Essinger, Jacquard’s Web, 37. 19 Ibid., 38. 20 Ibid., 12. 21 E. A. Posselt, The Jacquard Machine Analyzed and Explained (Philadelphia: Dando Printing and Publishing Company, 1888), 8. 22 Ibid., 42. 23 Adjusted for inflation, $3,000 in 1846 is the equivalent of over $105,000 in 2021. Source: Inflation Calculator. Available from https://www​.officialdata​.org​/us​/inflation/ [Accessed July 25, 2021].

166

Notes 24 James Parton, History of the Sewing Machine (May 1867; repr. New York: International Ladies’ Garment Workers’ Union, 1967), 10. 25 Ibid., 9. 26 Ibid., 22. 27 Grace Rogers Cooper, The Invention of the Sewing Machine (Washington, DC: The Smithsonian Institution Press, 1968), 57. 28 Parton, History of the Sewing Machine, 23. 29 Cooper, The Invention of the Sewing Machine, 58. 30 Lemire, “Developing Consumerism,” 252–3. 31 Ellen Leopold, “The Manufacture of the Fashion System,” in Chic Thrills: A Fashion Reader, ed. Juliet Ash and Elizabeth Wilson (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993), 103. 32 Claudia Kidwell, Suiting Everyone: The Democratization of Clothing in America (Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1974), 63. 33 Ibid., 39. 34 Cooper, The Invention of the Sewing Machine, 59. 35 H. Kristina Haugland, “Blouse,” The Berg Fashion Library (2005). Available from http://www​.bergfashionlibrary​ .com​/bazf​/bazf00079​.xml [Accessed June 22, 2013]. 36 “Macy’s: The Great ‘White’ Sale will Reach its Height this Week,” advertisement. New York Times (January 9, 1899), 3. 37 Ibid. 38 Kidwell, Suiting Everyone, 15. 39 Ibid. 40 Madeleine Ginsburg, “Rags to Riches: The Second-Hand Clothes Trade 1700–1978,” Costume 14 (1980): 128. 41 Leopold, “The Manufacture of the Fashion System,” 105. 42 Kidwell, Suiting Everyone, 137. 43 Ibid. 44 Helen Goodrich Butterick, Principles of Clothing Selection (New York: Macmillan, 1924), 148. 45 Leopold, “The Manufacture of the Fashion System,” 113. 46 Vance Packard, The Waste Makers (New York: David McKay and Company, Inc., 1960), 71–2. 47 “Fashion: Up, Up and Away,” Time (December 1, 1967), online archive, available by subscription only. 48 Angela Taylor, “Fashions to Buy, Wear and Then Throw Away,” New York Times (August 19, 1966), 41. 49 Jennifer Feingold Kibel, “Pulp Fashion: The History of Patented Paper Clothing” (master’s thesis, Fashion Institute of Technology), 1. 50 Ibid., 2. 51 Angela Taylor, “An East Side Boutique Dedicated to Disposability,” New York Times (June 10, 1967), FS24. 52 Caterine Milinaire and Carol Troy, Cheap Chic (New York, Harmony Books, 1975), 9. 53 Julie Summers, Fashion on the Ration: Style in the Second World War (London: Profile Books, 2015), 115. 54 Ibid., 113. 55 “8 Facts About Clothes Rationing in Britain during the Second World War,” Imperial War Museum. Available from https://www​.iwm​.org​.uk​/history​/8​-facts​-about​-clothes​-rationing​-in​-britain​-during​-the​-second​-world​-war [Accessed January 30, 2022]. 56 Summers, Fashion on the Ration, 140. 57 “Mobilizing for War,” Smithsonian National Museum of American History. Available from https://amhistory​.si​.edu​/ militaryhistory​/printable​/section​.asp​?id​=9​&sub=3 [Accessed January 30, 2022]. 167

Notes 58 Summers, Fashion on the Ration, 144. 59 Ibid., 145. 60 Elizabeth Wilson, Adorned in Dreams: Fashion and Modernity (London: Virago Press, 1985), 89. 61 Women’s Home Companion Readers, Women’s Clothing: A Survey of Selection, Sewing and Spending (New York: Crowell-Collier Publication Company, 1948), 10. 62 Christian Esquevin, Adrian: Silver Screen to Custom Label (New York: The Monacelli Press, 2008), 121. Adjusted for inflation in 2021, $125 was the equivalent of approximately $1,800. Source: Inflation Calculator. Available from https://www​.officialdata​.org​/us​/inflation/ [Accessed July 25, 2021]. 63 Karen De Witt, “Smithsonian Unearths 42 Adrian Designs,” New York Times (July 2, 1978), 35. 64 Esquevin, Adrian, 118. 65 Women’s Home Companion Readers, Women’s Clothing, 4. 66 Karl Aspelund, Fashioning Society: A Hundred Years of Haute Couture by Six Designers (New York: Fairchild Books, 2009), 10. 67 Dana Thomas, Deluxe: How Luxury Lost its Luster (New York: Penguin Press, 2007), 323. 68 Lucy Siegle, To Die For: Is Fashion Wearing Out the World? (London: Fourth Estate, 2011), 89. 69 The CFDA/Vogue Fashion Fund Award provides funding for emerging designers. It is awarded to three recipients annually. 70 Natalie Chanin, Alabama Studio Sewing + Design: A Guide to Hand-Sewing an Alabama Chanin Wardrobe (New York: Stewart, Tabori & Chang, 2012), 4. 71 Clark, “SLOW + FASHION,” 436. 72 Chanin, Alabama Studio Sewing + Design, 137. 73 Ibid., 4. 74 Slow and Steady Wins the Race. Available from http://www​.slo​wand​stea​dywi​nstherace​.com/ [Accessed July 5, 2013]. 75 Urban Outfitters, “UO Features.” Available from http://blog​.urbanoutfitters​.com​/features​/slow​_and​_steady [Accessed July 5, 2013]. 76 Ibid. 77 Slow and Steady Wins the Race. 78 Sandy Black, Eco-Chic: The Fashion Paradox (London: Black Dog, 2008), 46–7. 79 Radu Stern, Against Fashion: Clothing as Art, 1850–1930 (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2004), 50. 80 Ibid. 81 Susan Kaiser, “Mixing Metaphors in the Fiber, Textile, and Apparel Complex: Moving Toward a More Sustainable Fashion,” in Sustainable Fashion: Why Now? A Conversation Exploring Issues, Practices, and Possibilities, ed. Janet Hethorn and Connie Ulasewicz (New York: Fairchild Books, 2008), 155. 82 Joann Gregory Ritter and Betty L. Feather, “Practices, Procedures, and Attitudes Toward Clothing Maintenance: 1850–1860 and 1900–1910,” Dress 17 (1990): 162. 83 A Lady, How to Dress on £15 a Year (London: George Routledge and Sons, 1874), 75. 84 Ibid., 55. 85 Dorothy K. Burnham, Cut My Cote (Toronto: Royal Ontario Museum, 1973), 3. 86 Timo Rissanen and Holly McQuillan, Zero Waste Fashion Design (New York: Bloomsbury), 12. 87 Richard Martin, “Energy and Economy, Measure and Magic,” in Yeohlee: Work, ed. John S. Major (Mulgrave: Peleus Press, 2003), 152. 88 Rissanen and McQuillan, Zero Waste Fashion Design, 12–17. 89 Martin, “Energy and Economy, Measure and Magic,” 152. 168

Notes 90 Yeohlee, Fall 2009 press release. Available from http://yeohlee​.com​/archive​/fall2009pr​.html [Accessed May 1, 2010]. 91 Holly McQuillan, “Zero-Waste Design Practice: Strategies and Risk Taking for Garment Design,” in Shaping Sustainable Fashion: Changing the Way we Make and Use Clothes, ed. Alison Gwilt and Timo Rissanen (London: Earthscan, 2011), 85. 92 Kate Fletcher, Craft of Use: Post-Growth Fashion (London: Routledge, 2016), 10.

Chapter 3 1 https://www​.thenuwardrobe​.com. 2 https://www​.depop​.com. 3 https://www​.eileenfisherrenew​.com. 4 Sarah Butler, “‘Pre-loved’ Fashion Moves from Niche to Mainstream as Retailers Join the Fray,” The Guardian (May 1, 2021). Available from https://www​.theguardian​.com​/fashion​/2021​/may​/01​/pre​-loved​-fashion​-moves​-from​-niche​ -to​-mainstream​-as​-retailers​-join​-the​-fray [Accessed July 25, 2021]. 5 Amy Twigger Holroyd, Folk Fashion: Understanding Homemade Clothes (London: I.B.Tauris, 2017), 97. 6 Kate Sekules, Mend! A Refashioning Manual and Manifesto (London: Penguin, 2020). 7 William McDonough and Michael Braungart, Cradle to Cradle: Remaking the Way We Make Things (New York: North Point Press, 2002). 8 Sandy Black, Eco-Chic: The Fashion Paradox (London: Black Dog Publishing, 2008), 46. 9 Helen Kirkum. Available from https://www​.helenkirkum​.com [Accessed July 25, 2021]. 10 Kate Fletcher, Sustainable Fashion & Textiles: Design Journeys, 2nd ed. (Abingdon: Routledge, 2014), 41. 11 Jana M. Hawley, Pauline Sullivan and Youn Kyung-Kim, “Recycled Textiles,” in Encyclopedia of Clothing and Fashion, ed. Valerie Steele (Detroit, MI: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 2005), 91. 12 https://wornagain​.co​.uk. 13 https://www​.renewcell​.com. 14 Karen Tranberg Hansen, “Secondhand Clothes, Anthropology of,” in Encyclopedia of Clothing and Fashion, ed. Valerie Steele (Detroit, MI: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 2005), 151. 15 Beverly Lemire, “Shifting Currency: The Culture and Economy of the Second Hand Trade in England, c. 1600– 1850,” in Old Clothes, New Looks, ed. Alexandra Palmer and Hazel Clark (Oxford: Berg, 2005), 41–2. 16 Ibid. 17 Beverly Lemire, “Developing Consumerism and the Ready-made Clothing Trade in Britain, 1750–1800,” in Fashion: Critical and Primary Sources, ed. Peter McNeil (Oxford: Berg, 2009), vol. 2, 254. 18 Elizabeth Sanderson, “Nearly New: The Second-Hand Clothing Trade in Eighteenth-Century Edinburgh,” Costume 31 (1997): 38. 19 Reticule is the term used to describe the pouch-like bags popular in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Reticules usually had a drawstring closure. 20 Pockets were not integrated into the design of women’s clothing in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. They were entirely separate from other garments, and were attached to a tape that was worn around the waist. Pockets were accessed through slits on the sides of women’s skirts. The bulk they created made them better suited for wear with dress styles with heavier fabrics and fuller construction than those that were fashionable in the early nineteenth century. 21 Linda Baumgarten, “Altered Historical Clothing,” Dress 25, no. 1 (1998): 49. 22 Linda Welters, “The Fashion of Sustainability,” in Sustainable Fashion: Why Now? A Conversation Exploring Issues, Practices, and Possibilities, ed. Janet Hethorn and Connie Ulasewicz (New York: Fairchild Books, 2008), 8. 169

Notes 23 Janet Arnold, “‘The Lady’s Economical Assistant’ of 1808,” in The Culture of Sewing: Gender, Consumption and Home Dressmaking, ed. Barbara Burman (Oxford: Berg, 1999), 225. 24 Anne Buck, Dress in Eighteenth-Century England (New York: Holmes and Meier Publications, Inc., 1979), 160. 25 Madeleine Ginsburg, “Rags To Riches: The Second-Hand Clothes Trade 1700–1978,” Costume 14 (1980): 129. 26 Michelle Maskiell, “Consuming Kashmir: Shawls and Empires, 1500–2000,” in Fashion: Critical and Primary Sources, ed. Peter McNeil (Oxford: Berg, 2009), vol. 3, 207. $2,000 is the equivalent of over $71,000 in 2021. Source: Inflation Calculator. Available from https://www​.officialdata​.org​/us​/inflation/ [Accessed July 25, 2021]. 27 Marin F. Hanson and Patricia Cox Crews, eds., American Quilts in the Modern Age, 1870–1940 (Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 2009), 5. 28 Penny McMorris, Crazy Quilts (New York: E. Dutton, 1984), 16. 29 Ibid. 30 Celia Marshik, “Smart Clothes at Low Prices,” in Cultures of Femininity in Modern Fashion, ed. Ilya Parkins and Elizabeth M. Sheehan (Durham, NH: University of New Hampshire Press, 2011), 71. 31 “Advance Trade Edition of Vogue,” Vogue (April 1, 1933), supplement, III. 32 Dyeing, Remodeling, Budgets (Scranton, PA: The Woman’s Institute of Domestic Arts and Sciences, 1931), 2. 33 Studs Terkel, Hard Times (New York: The New Press, 2000), 46. 34 Ibid., 85. 35 Pamela Soohoo, “Fashions for Victory: Innovation, Improvisation & Innovation in American Women’s Fashion, 1940–1946” (master’s thesis, Fashion Institute of Technology, 2004), 2. 36 Marshik, “Smart Clothes at Low Prices,” 82. 37 The Board of Trade by the Minister of Information, Make Do and Mend (1943; repr., Sevenoaks: Sabrestorm Publishing, 2007), 19. 38 “Style Inspiration Seen in Rag Bag And ‘Make-Do Fashions’ Prove Chic,” New York Times (April 29, 1943), 24. 39 The Board of Trade by the Ministry of Supply, “How to ‘Make-Do-And-Mend.’” Available from http://www​.youtube​ .com​/watch​?v​=f4RpJcVs1VI [Accessed June 28, 2013]. 40 Bethan Bide, “Make Do and Mend Spend: Why 1940s Austerity Provides a Poor Model for Sustainable Consumption,” Fashioning Sustainment 2022: Histories of Resourcefulness, Reuse and Creative Ingenuity in 20th Century Fashion and Dress, January 21, 2022. 41 Jana Hawley, “Economic Impact of Textile and Clothing Recycling,” in Sustainable Fashion: Why Now? A Conversation Exploring Issues, Practices, and Possibilities, eds Janet Hethorn and Connie Ulasewicz (New York: Fairchild Books, 2008), 212. 42 Jacky Watson, Textiles and the Environment: Special Report no. 2150 (London: The Economist Intelligence Unit, 1991), 71. 43 US Environmental Protection Agency, “Textiles.” Available from http://www​.epa​.gov​/wastes​/conserve​/materials​/ textiles​.htm [Accessed May 23, 2013]. 44 Black, Eco-Chic, 158. 45 Lynda Fitzwater, “Secondhand Clothes,” in Encyclopedia of Clothing and Fashion, ed. Valerie Steele (Detroit: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 2005), 153. 46 Hawley, “Economic Impact of Textile and Clothing Recycling,” 221. 47 Samuel Jubb, The History of the Shoddy Trade: Its Rise, Progress, and Present Position (London: Houlston and Wright, 1860), 40. 48 Ginsburg, “Rags to Riches,” 128. 49 Jubb, The History of the Shoddy Trade, 2–3. 50 Ibid., 23. 170

Notes 51 Jubb, The History of the Shoddy Trade, 2. 52 Great Industries of Great Britain (London, Paris and New York: Cassell, Petter, Galpin & Co., 1884), 316. Available from https://archive​.org​/details​/gre​atin​dust​ries​00br​itgoog​/page​/n332​/mode​/2up [Accessed July 25, 2021]. 53 Alexandra Palmer, Couture & Commerce: The Transatlantic Fashion Trade in the 1950s (Vancouver: UBC Press, 2001), 194. 54 Baumgarten, “Altered Historical Clothing,” 46. 55 Carol Vogel, “Valerian S. Rybar, 71, Design of Lush Rooms and Lavish Parties,” New York Times (June 13, 1990), B20. 56 Ibid. 57 $100 in 1971 was the equivalent of $657 in 2021. Source: United States Department of Labor, Bureau of Labor Statistics, CPI Inflation Calculator. Available from http://www​.bls​.gov​/data​/inflation​_calculator​.htm Accessed July 25, 2021]. 58 Angela Taylor, “For One-of-a-Kind Fashions,” New York Times (July 26, 1971), 14. 59 Alexandra Palmer, “Vintage Whores and Vintage Virgins: Second Hand Fashion in the Twenty-First Century,” in Old Clothes, New Looks: Second-Hand Fashion, ed. Alexandra Palmer and Hazel Clark (Oxford: Berg Publishers, 2005), 202. 60 Angela Taylor, “There’s Something New at Altman’s: Shop That Has Authentic Old Clothes,” New York Times (July 9, 1970), 40. 61 Mary Ann Crenshaw, “Looking Back to Dresses for Today,” New York Times (January 26, 1975), 298. 62 Diana Funaro, The Yestermorrow Clothes Book: How to Remodel Secondhand Clothes (Radner, PA: Chilton Book Co., 1976), 55. 63 Ellen Weiss, Secondhand Super Shopper: Buying More, Spending Less, Living Better (New York: M. Evans, 1981), xii. 64 Deadstock is a term that refers to merchandise that was not used or sold at the time of its making. It is sometimes also referred to as “new old stock.” 65 Bernadine Morris, “Two Contemporary Designers for the Modern Generation,” New York Times (January 11, 1977), 48. 66 Ibid. 67 The Museum at FIT, object accession record. 68 Jennifer Craik, Fashion: The Key Concepts (Oxford: Berg, 2009), 242. 69 Suzy Menkes, “The Shock of the Old,” New York Times (March 21, 1993), V8. 70 Kaat Debo and Bob Verhelst, Maison Martin Margiela “20”: The Exhibition (Antwerp: MoMu Fashion Museum, 2008), 9. 71 Mary Rourke, “An Activist Autumn: Paris Defines Trendy Issues in Statements of Black and White,” Los Angeles Times (March 23, 1992). Available from http://articles​.latimes​.com​/1992​-03​-23​/news​/vw​-3189​_1​_black​-tights [Accessed June 21, 2013]. 72 Debo and Verhelst, Maison Martin Margiela “20,” xx. 73 Caroline Evans, “The Golden Dustman: A Critical Evaluation of the Work of Martin Margiela and a Review of Martin Margiela: Exhibition (9/4/1615),” Fashion Theory: The Journal of Dress, Body & Culture 1 (February 1998): vol. 2, 81. 74 Maison Martin Margiela has shown unique “garments remodeled by hand” as part of its Artisanal Collections since autumn/winter 2005–2006. Clothing from these collections is perceived as the Maison’s form of couture. 75 Nicole Phelps, “Maison Martin Margiela,” style​.co​m. Available from http://www​.style​.com​/fashionshows​/review​/ S2013CTR​-MMARGIEL [Accessed March 21, 2013]. 76 Ibid. 77 Menkes, “The Shock of the Old,” V8. 171

Notes 78 Victoria L. Rovine, “Working the Edge: XULY.Bët’s Recycled Clothing,” in Old Clothes, New Looks: Second-Hand Fashion, ed. Alexandra Palmer and Hazel Clark (Oxford: Berg, 2005), 216. 79 Ibid., 224. 80 Textiles Environment Design, “Worn Again: Rethinking Recycled Textiles.” Available from http://www​.tedresearch​ .net​/research​/detail​/worn​-again​-rethinking​-recycled​-textiles/ [Accessed July 25, 2021]. 81 Jessica Hemmings, “Rebecca Earley upcycles style,” Fiberarts (January/February 2009): 41. 82 Susan Diesenhouse, “Polyester Becomes Environmentally Correct,” New York Times (February 20, 1994), 9. 83 “10 Most Wanted: Techno,” Vogue (January 1, 1998), 176. 84 Emma Bryce, “Are Clothes Made From Recycled Materials Really More Sustainable?” The Guardian (November 6, 2021). Available from https://www​.theguardian​.com​/environment​/2021​/nov​/06​/clothes​-made​-from​-recycled​ -materials​-sustainable​-plastic​-climate [Accessed January 30, 2022]. 85 Ibid. 86 Changing Markets Foundation, Fossil Fashion: The Hidden Reliance of Fast Fashion on Fossil Fuels (Changing Markets Foundation, 2021), 23. 87 Bryce, “Are Clothes Made From Recycled Materials Really More Sustainable?” 88 Changing Markets Foundation, Fossil Fashion, 29. 89 Angela McRobbie, “Second-Hand Dresses and the Role of the Ragmarket,” in Zoot Suits and Secondhand Dresses, an Anthology of Fashion and Music, ed. Angela McRobbie (Boston: Unwin Hyman, 1988), 29. 90 Andrew Brooks, Clothing Poverty, 2nd ed. (London: Zed Books, 2019), 137–8. 91 Orsola de Castro is quoted in Sophie Benson, “Where Do Your Charity Shop Donations Really Go?”, Grazia (March 9, 2019). Available from https://graziadaily​.co​.uk​/fashion​/news​/charity​-shop​-clothes​-donation/ [Accessed July 25, 2021]. 92 Ellen MacArthur Foundation, A New Textiles Economy: Redesigning Fashion’s Future (2017), 20. Available from https://www​.ell​enma​cart​hurf​oundation​.org​/assets​/downloads​/publications​/A​-New​-Textiles​-Economy​_Full​-Report​ _Updated​_1​-12​-17​.pdf [Accessed July 25, 2021].

Chapter 4 1 “Fashion’s Problems,” Clean Clothes Campaign. Available from https://cleanclothes​.org​/fashions​-problems [Accessed April 18, 2021]. 2 “About,” Fashion Revolution. Available from https://www​.fashionrevolution​.org​/about/ [Accessed April 18, 2021]. 3 Catherine Salfino, “Here’s Why Made in USA Still Matters,” Sourcing Journal (August 29, 2019). Available from https://sourcingjournal​.com​/topics​/lifestyle​-monitor​/made​-in​-usa​-apparel​-2​-166871/ [Accessed April 18, 2021]. 4 “Out Of Sight: A Call for Transparency from Field to Fabric,” Fashion Revolution. Available from https://www​ .fashionrevolution​.org​/transparency​-beyond​-tier​-one/ [Accessed April 18, 2021]. 5 “About,” Everlane. Available from https://www​.everlane​.com​/about [Accessed April 18, 2021]. 6 Rachel Arthur, “From Farm to Finished Garment: Blockchain Is Aiding this Fashion Collection with Transparency,” Forbes (May 10, 2017). Available from https://www​.forbes​.com​/sites​/rachelarthur​/2017​/05​/10​/garment​-blockchain​ -fashion​-transparency/ [Accessed April 18, 2021]. 7 Philip B. Scranton, “Introduction,” in Silk City: Studies in the Paterson Silk Industry, 1860–1890, ed. Philip B. Scranton (Newark: New Jersey Historical Society, 1985), 4, 6. 8 Benita Eisler, ed., The Lowell Offering: Writings by New England Mill Women (1840–1845) (Philadelphia and New York: J. B. Lippincott Company, 1977), 18–19. 172

Notes 9 Steve Dunwell, The Run of the Mill: A Pictorial Narrative of the Expansion, Dominion, Decline and Enduring Impact of the New England Textile Industry (Boston: David R. Godine, 1978), 42, 47. 10 Eisler, The Lowell Offering, 15. 11 Josephine L. Baker, “A Second Peep at Factory Life,” The Lowell Offering 5 (May 1845): 98. 12 Ibid., 99. 13 Eisler, The Lowell Offering, 36. 14 Mrs. J. Borden Harriman, “The Cotton Mill: A Factor in the Development of the South,” Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Sciences; Supplement: Child Employing Industries 35 (March 1910): 48. 15 Holland Thompson, From the Cotton Field to the Cotton Mill: A Study of the Industrial Transition in North Carolina (New York and London: The Macmillan Company, 1906), 271. 16 Ibid., 66. 17 D. A. Tompkins, Cotton Mill, Commercial Features: A Text-Book for the Use of Textiles Schools and Investors (Charlotte, NC: The Author, 1899), 28. 18 Thompson, From the Cotton Field to the Cotton Mill, 133. 19 Ibid., 151. 20 Victoria Byerly, Hard Times Cotton Mill Girls: Personal Histories of Womanhood and Poverty in the South (Ithaca, NY: ILR Press, 1986), 7; Steve Dunwell, The Run of the Mill: A Pictorial Narrative of the Expansion, Dominion, Decline and Enduring Impact of the New England Textile Industry (Boston: David R. Godine, 1978), 147. 21 Thompson, From the Cotton Field to the Cotton Mill, 273, 159. 22 Ibid., 148. 23 Interview with Bertha Miller, in Byerly, Hard Times Cotton Mill Girls, 48. 24 Tompkins, Cotton Mill, Commercial Features, 37. 25 Susan Hall Fleming, “OSHA at 30: Three Decades of Progress in Occupational Safety and Health,” Job Safety and Health Quarterly 12, no. 3 (Spring 2001): 4–5. 26 Interview with Clara Thrift, in Byerly, Hard Times Cotton Mill Girls, 117. 27 Dunwell, The Run of the Mill, 14. 28 Thompson, From the Cotton Field to the Cotton Mill, 220. 29 Hugh Hindman, Child Labor: An American History (Armonk, NY and London: M. E. Sharpe, 2002), 158. 30 A. J. McKelway, “The Cotton Mill: The Herod Among Industries,” Annals of the Academy of Political and Social Sciences: Supplement: Uniform Child Labor Laws 38 (July 1911): 44. 31 Thompson, From the Cotton Field to the Cotton Mill, 226. 32 Ibid., 225. 33 Ibid., 131. 34 Al Priddy (Frederic Kenyon Brown), Through the Mill, the Life of a Mill Boy (Boston, New York and Chicago: The Pilgrim Press, 1911), 96, 102. 35 Ibid., 124. 36 Ibid., 167. 37 Ibid., 168–9. 38 Ibid., 168. 39 Ibid., 171. 40 Based on the information provided, it would have been roughly 1905 when Miller started working. Interview with Bertha Miller, in Byerly, Hard Times Cotton Mill Girls, 48. 41 Interview with Bertha Awford Black, in Byerly, Hard Times Cotton Mill Girls, 65, 62. 173

Notes 42 Leonora Beck Ellis, “A Study of Southern Cotton-Mill Communities. Child Labor. The Operatives in General,” American Journal of Sociology 8, no. 5 (March 1903): 624. 43 Jacob A. Riis, How the Other Half Lives: Studies Among the Tenements of New York (New York: Hill and Wang, Inc., 1957), 2. 44 Abraham Bisno, Abraham Bisno: Union Pioneer (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1967), 42, 239. 45 “The Sweat-Shop Problem,” New York Times (December 17, 1895), 4. 46 Riis, How the Other Half Lives, 89. 47 Bisno, Abraham Bisno, 147. 48 Ibid., 74. 49 “The Sweatshop Problem,” New York Times, 2. 50 Riis, How the Other Half Lives, 91. 51 The International Ladies’ Garment Workers’ Union, “When You Go Out Shopping Remember the Shirt-Waist Girl,” The Ladies’ Garment Worker 1, no. 1 (April 1910): 1. 52 “Women Here and There: Their Frills and Fancies,” New York Times (September 16, 1900), 19. 53 Ibid. 54 Ladies’ Garment Worker 2, no. 4 (April 1911): 6. 55 “141 Men and Girls Die in Waist Factory Fire; Trapped High up in Washington Place Building; Street Strewn with Bodies; Piles of Dead Inside,” New York Times (March 26, 1911), 1; “Doors Were Locked, Say Rescued Girls,” New York Times (March 27, 1911), 3. 56 Edna Woolman Chase, Always in Vogue (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1954), 77. 57 Robert J. S. Ross, Slaves to Fashion: Poverty and Abuse in the New Sweatshops (Ann Arbor, MI: The University of Michigan Press, 2007), 86. 58 M. D. C. Crawford, The Ways of Fashion (New York: G. Putnam’s Sons, 1941), 102–3. 59 Benjamin Selekman, The Clothing and Textile Industries in New York and Its Environs, Present Trends and Probable Future Developments (New York: Regional Plan of New York and its Environs, 1925), 23. 60 Bernard Roshco, The Rag Race: How New York and Paris Run the Breakneck Business of Dressing American Women (New York: Funk & Wagnalls, 1963). 61 Research Department, International Ladies’ Garment Workers’ Union, Conditions in the Women’s Garment Industry (February 25, 1976), 9, 7; Research Department, International Ladies’ Garment Workers’ Union, Conditions in the Women’s Garment Industry (February 23, 1995), 7. 62 Michael Freitag, “New York is Fighting the Spread of Sweatshops,” New York Times (November 16, 1987), A1. 63 “Justice Center in the Eye of the Sweatshop Storm: Building the Union from the Ground Up,” UNITE! (March/April 1997), 8. 64 Stephanie Strom, “A Sweetheart Becomes Suspect: Looking Behind Those Kathie Lee Labels,” New York Times (June 27, 1996), D1. 65 “Sweatshops are Back. Now Slavery is Too,” UNITE! (September 1995), 16. 66 “Targeting Sweatshops,” UNITE! (December 1995), 3. 67 “Stop Sweatshop’ Campaign Growing,” UNITE! (January/February 1997), 6. 68 “Justice Center in the Eye of the Sweatshop Storm,” 9. 69 Nicky Coninck, Martje Theuws and Pauline Overeem, Captured by Cotton: Exploited Dalit Girls Produce Garments in India for European and US Markets (The Netherlands: Centre for Research on Multinational Corporations and India Committee of the Netherlands, May 2011), 3. 70 US Department of Labor, Bureau of International Labor Affairs, By the Sweat and Toil of Children: The Use of Child Labor in American Imports Vol. 1 (Washington, DC: The Bureau, 1994–1995), 16. 174

Notes 71 Joel Seidman, The Needle Trades (New York and Toronto: Farrar & Rinehart, Inc., 1942), 52. 72 Selekman, The Clothing and Textile Industries in New York and Its Environs, 25. 73 Robert B. Reich, “How an American Industry Gets Away With Slave Labor,” New York Times (August 20, 1995), E7. 74 Benjamin Stolberg, Tailor’s Progress: The Story of a Famous Union and the Men Who Made It (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, Doran and Company, 1944), 14. 75 “Triangle Fire 90th Anniversary: Demand Global Fairness,” UNITE! (Spring 2001), 3. 76 “Factory Fire in China Takes 80 Lives,” Justice (September 1991), 6. 77 Declan Walsh and Steven Greenhouse, “Inspectors Certified Pakistani Factory as Safe Before Disaster,” New York Times (September 19, 2012). Available from http://www​.nytimes​.com​/2012​/09​/20​/world​/asia​/pakistan​-factory​ -passed​-inspection​-before​-fire​.html​?pagewanted​=all&​_r=0 [Accessed September 21, 2012]. 78 Julfikar Ali Manik and Jim Yardley, “Building Collapse in Bangladesh Leaves Scores Dead,” New York Times (April 24, 2013). Available from http://www​.nytimes​.com​/2013​/04​/25​/world​/asia​/bangladesh​-building​-collapse​.html​ ?pagewanted​=all&​_r​=0/ [Accessed August 14, 2013]. 79 Judith Thurman, “Rana Plaza Has Happened Before,” The New Yorker (May 23, 2013). Available from http://www​ .newyorker​.com​/online​/blogs​/books​/2013​/05​/rana​-plaza​-has​-happened​-before​.html​?printable​=true​¤tPage​ =all [Accessed August 18, 2013]. 80 “The Fall of the Pemberton Mill,” London Times, January 30, 1860. Reprinted in New York Times (February 16, 1860), 2. 81 Charles Kernaghan, “Think Tank: Sweatshop Garments Drag All of Us Down,” Women’s Wear Daily (February 5, 2013). Available from http://www​.WWD​.com​/markets​-news​/markets​-features​/think​-tank​-sweatshop​-garments​ -drag​-all​-of​-us​-down​-6693980 [Accessed February 5, 2013]. 82 Ibid. 83 Arthur F. McEvoy, “The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire of 1911: Social Change, Industrial Accidents, and the Evolution of Common-Sense Causality,” Law & Social Inquiry 20, no. 2 (Spring 1995): 623. 84 Ibid., 627–9. 85 John A. Dyche, “The Strike of the Ladies’ Waist Makers of New York and its Results,” The Ladies’ Garment Worker 1, no. 2 (May 1910): 2. 86 Mary Domsky-Abrams, in an interview by Leon Stein, date unknown. Available from www​.ilr​.cornell​.edu​/ trianglefire​/primary​/survivorinterviews​/MaryDomskyAbrams​.html [Accessed July 8, 2013]. 87 McEvoy, “The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire of 1911,” 631; Leon Stein, The Triangle Fire: Centennial Edition (Ithaca and London: ILR Press, 1962, 2011), 20. 88 Bisno, Abraham Bisno, 124. 89 Max Meyer, “Irresponsibility Wrecked the Protocol,” New York Times (July 8, 1915), 12. 90 Bisno, Abraham Bisno, 210–11. 91 Ladies’ Waist and Dress Manufacturers’ Association, Minutes of Conference in re Proposed Amended Protocol in the Dress and Waist Industry Between the Ladies’ Waist and Dress Manufacturers’ Association and the International Ladies’ Garment Workers’ Union (January 1916), 12. 92 Seidman, The Needle Trades, 187. 93 “Richness to Mark Winter Fashions,” New York Times (September 5, 1933), 19. 94 Crawford, The Ways of Fashion, 102–3. 95 Daniel Lang, “Where the Fashion is Multiplied,” New York Times (November 5, 1939), 121. 96 Signature of the 450,000, International Ladies’ Garment Workers’ Union, 65th Anniversary Convention, Miami Beach, Florida (May 1965), 39, 41, 45. 97 Nan Robertson, “Woman’s Refusal to Dress Like Others Gives Seventh Ave. Odd Pricing System,” New York Times (February 9, 1956), 36. 175

Notes 98 David Dubinsky, “Introduction,” Signature of the 450,000, International Ladies’ Garment Workers,” Union, 65th Anniversary Convention, Miami Beach, Florida (May 1965), 3. 99 Florence Kelley, “The Consumers’ League Label,” Bulletin: The Consumers” League of New York 4, no. 5 (May 1925): 1. 100 Henry Moskowitz, “Prosanis: The Garment Health Label,” Bulletin: The Consumers’ League of New York 4, no. 5 (May 1925): 2. 101 “Woman Shopper is Urged to Discourage Sweatshops,” New York Times (May 10, 1925), X20. 102 Mrs. Frederick Nathan, “Real Manufacturer is the Woman Who Goes Shopping,” New York Times (December 29, 1912), 72. 103 “Fashion Show in Interest of Health,” New York Times (October 25, 1925), X11. 104 Kelley, “The Consumers’ League Label,” 2. 105 “Fair Pay Plea Made by Mrs. Roosevelt,” New York Times (June 20, 1933), 21. 106 Crawford, The Ways of Fashion, 183. 107 “Advertising Begun in N.Y. Dress Drive,” New York Times (August 28, 1941), 35. 108 “City Hall Style Show Introduces New Label for New York Creations,” New York Times (July 8, 1941), 21. 109 “A Label and What It Means,” Harper’s Bazaar (September 1, 1941), 96. 110 Robertson, “Woman’s Refusal to Dress Like Others,” 36. 111 Cecil Beaton, The Glass of Fashion (Garden City, NY: Country Life Press, 1954), 220. 112 Crawford, The Ways of Fashion, 73. 113 Kirke’s original source is Thérèse and Louise Bonney, A Shopping Guide to Paris (New York: McBride, 1929). Betty Kirke, Vionnet (San Francisco: Chronicle Books, 1998), 124. 114 Crawford, The Ways of Fashion, 5, 104–5. 115 “Mediation Board Makes Garage Award,” New York Times (April 23, 1941), 16; “Arbitrators are Named,” New York Times (October 2, 1948), 7. 116 “Max Meyer Dies; Labor Mediator,” Special to New York Times (February 1, 1953), 89. 117 Max Meyer, “Irresponsibility Wrecked the Protocol,” New York Times (July 8, 1915), 12. 118 Alvin Johnson, “Our Industries from the Underside: HURRY UP PLEASE, IT’S TIME,” New York Times (January 12, 1947), BR6. 119 Elizabeth Hawes, Fashion Is Spinach (New York: Random House, 1938), 30. 120 Ibid., 207. 121 “Mission Statement: We Will Organize Globally,” UNITE! (July 1995), 12. 122 “Three Young Maquila Workers Take on American Retail Giants,” UNITE! (July 1995), 14. 123 “Major Retailers Still Avoid Responsibility,” UNITE! (October 1995), 3. 124 Arthur Friedman and Kristi Ellis, “Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire: The Lessons of History,” Women’s Wear Daily (March 21, 2011), 7. 125 The Apparel Industry Codes of Conduct: A Solution to the International Child Labor Problem? (Washington, DC: US Department of Labor, Bureau of International Affairs, 1996), 8, v, vi. 126 Kristi Ellis, “ILRF Report Lambasts CSR Effectiveness,” Women’s Wear Daily (December 18, 2012). Available from http://www​.wwd​.com​/business​-news​/government​-trade​/ilrf​-report​-spotlights​-dirty​-secrets​-6546898 [Accessed March 1, 2013]. 127 The Apparel Industry Codes of Conduct, x. 128 Kernaghan, “Think Tank.” 129 Ross, Slaves to Fashion, 246. 176

Notes 130 Allen R. Myerson, “In Principle, a Case for More ‘Sweatshops,’” New York Times (June 22, 1997), E5. 131 Kelsey Timmerman, Where Am I Wearing?: A Global Tour to the Countries, Factories, and People That Make Our Clothes, revised and updated edition (Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley and Sons, Inc., 2012), 7. 132 Sandy Black, Eco-Chic: The Fashion Paradox (London: Black Dog Publishing, 2008), 185. 133 Ross, Slaves to Fashion, 323. 134 Ibid., 325. 135 “Appalachia’s Poor Sew Fashions for the Rich,” Owosso Argus (January 5, 1970). 136 Katherine Dorny, “Remnants to Riches: Mountain Artisans, 1968–1978” (MA dissertation, 2019), iv. 137 Carlos Miele, Carlos Miele: Coopa-Roca and the Fuxico, press release, 2010. 138 Sass Brown, Eco Fashion (London: Laurence King Publishing, 2010), 202. 139 “Fair Trade Gains Steam in U.S.,” Women’s Wear Daily (July 15, 2003). Available from http://www​.wwd​.com​/fashion​ -news​/fashion​-features​/fair​-trade​-gains​-steam​-in​-u​-s​-725721 [Accessed August 18, 2013]. 140 Alice Payne, Designing Fashion’s Future: Present Practice and Tactics for Sustainable Change (London: Bloomsbury, 2021), 113. 141 Kenneth Pucker, “Overselling Sustainability Reporting,” Harvard Business Review (May-June 2021). Available from https://hbr​-org​.cdn​.ampproject​.org​/c​/s​/hbr​.org​/amp​/2021​/05​/overselling​-sustainability​-reporting [Accessed April 18, 2021]. 142 Amy Twigger Holroyd, Tom Cassidy, Martyn Evans and Stuart Walker, “Wrestling with Tradition: Revitalizing the Orkney Chair and Other Culturally Significant Crafts,” Design and Culture 9 (2017): 3, 290. 143 Adélia Borges, Design + Craft: The Brazilian Path (São Paulo: Editora Terceiro Nome, 2011). 144 Samantha Smith, Just Transition: A Report for the OECD (Just Transition Centre, 2017), 3.

Chapter 5 1 Richard Daniels, MCGI, FSLTC, Back to Basics: The Environment (Liverpool: World Trades Publishing, 2004), 9. 2 John Sorenson, “Ethical Fashion and the Exploitation of Nonhuman Animals,” Critical Studies in Fashion & Beauty 2, no. 1–2 (2011): 141–2. 3 Lucy Siegle, “Burning Issue: How Fashion’s Love of Leather is Fuelling the Fires in the Amazon,” The Guardian, August 29, 2019. Available from https://www​.theguardian​.com​/fashion​/2019​/aug​/29​/burning​-issue​-how​-fashions​ -love​-of​-leather​-is​-fuelling​-the​-fires​-in​-the​-amazon [Accessed June 6, 2021]. 4 Josefin Liljeqvist, “Our Leather Traceability Story,” josefinliljeqvist​.co​m. Available from https://josefinliljeqvist​.com​/ leather​-traceability/ [Accessed July 18, 2021]. 5 For further information on the luxury sustainable and vegan brand Lo Neel: https://www​.loneel​.fr​/en/. 6 Ananas Anam, “About Us,” ananas​-anam​.c​om. Available from https://www​.ananas​-anam​.com​/about​-us/ [Accessed July 18, 2021]. 7 J. A. Allen, “The Present Wholesale Destruction of Bird-Life in the United States,” Science 7, no. 60 (February 26, 1886): 194. 8 Frank M. Chapman, “Birds and Bonnets,” Forest and Stream (February 25, 1886), 84. 9 “For the Woman’s Hat,” New York Times (December 15, 1907), 15. 10 “Destruction of Birds for Millinery Purposes,” Science 7, no. 160 (February 26, 1886): 196. 11 Ibid., 197. 12 “Thomas H. Wood & Co. advertisement,” The Millinery Trade Review 22, no. 7 (July 1897): 13. 13 “Cincinnati notes,” The Millinery Trade Review 22, no. 10 (October 1897): 44. 177

Notes 14 “Notes and news,” The Auk 11, no. 4 (October 1894): 342. 15 “Woman’s Cruel Folly,” Vogue (March 26, 1896), xii. Virtually the same text appears in the New York Times (March 22, 1896) under the column “Her Point of View.” 16 The figure is as reported by an SPCA chapter in Buffalo, NY, which stated that “one hunter kills 100 in a day, forty to sixty hunters are out in the season.” “Spare the Birds,” New York Times (March 1, 1897), 7. 17 Edward Bok, The Americanization of Edward Bok: The Autobiography of a Dutch Boy Fifty Years Later (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1920), 332–3. 18 Ibid., 334. 19 Ibid., 335. 20 Andrew Bolton, Wild: Fashion Untamed (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press), 94. 21 “Status of Trade in Hawksbill Turtles,” Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES). Available from http://www​.cites​.org​/eng​/prog​/hbt​/bg​/trade​_status​.shtml [Accessed April 8, 2013]. 22 Ivory: An International History and Illustrated Survey (New York: Abrams, 1987), 19. 23 Ashish Kumar Sen, “African Officials Seek U.S. Drones to Fight Elephant Poachers,” Washington Times (July 31, 2013). Available from http://www​.washingtontimes​.com​/news​/2013​/jul​/31​/elephants​-rhinos​-lions​-and​-drones​ -tanzania​-conside/ [Accessed August 24, 2013]. 24 Clifford Warwick, “Reptiles—Misunderstood, Mistreated, and Mass-Marketed,” in Skinned, ed. International Wildlife Coalition (North Falmouth, MA: International Wildlife Coalition, 1988), 143. 25 Ismat Tahseen, “Fashion Can Be Cold-blooded; Is What National Award-winning Actor Raveena Tandon-Thadani Wants to Convey as She Decries Using Animal Skin for Style,” Daily News & Analysis (September 13, 2010). Gale Power Search [Accessed July 16, 2012]. 26 Thomas Hainschwang and Laurence Leggio, “The Characterization of Tortoise Shell and its Imitations,” Gems & Gemology (Spring 2006), 36, 38. 27 This represents the point of view of milliners in the Washington, DC areas as reported by the AOU’s William Dutcher. “Report of the A.O.U. Committee on Protection of North American birds,” The Auk 15, no. 1 (January 1898): 95. 28 “For the Woman’s Hat,” 15. 29 “Topics of the Times,” New York Times (June 2, 1913), 6. 30 “The Trade,” The Millinery Trade Review 22, no. 9 (September 1897): 10. 31 Ibid. 32 “Woman’s Barbarous Dress: The Milliners Protest They Should Not Bear all the Blame,” The Millinery Trade Review, reprinted in New York Times (May 9, 1886), 14. 33 “Poor Man,” The Millinery Trade Review 24, no. 4 (April 1899): 25. 34 New York Times (April 24, 1910), 12. 35 C. C. Shayne, “C. C. Shayne’s New Fur Fashions,” catalog (New York, c. 1880s), 1. 36 “Science: Pampered Rodent,” Time (April 28, 1947), online archive. 37 C. C. Shayne, “C. C. Shayne’s New Fur Fashions,” catalog, 2. 38 “Fur and Near-Fur,” Vogue (October 15, 1913), 92. 39 “Fashion: What She Wears: The Extent to Which Fur is to Be Used—Various Muff Models—Barbaric Sumptuousness of Opera Cloaks—Cloak of White Moiré Flowered With Tulips and Nasturtiums—Shawl-Shape Wrap,” Vogue (November 18, 1897), 332. 40 Ibid. 41 “Hints for Fur Buyers,” New York Times (January 18, 1891), 11.

178

Notes 42 Text translated by Robert Warren. Felix Jungmann et Cie, ed., Les Belles Fourrures (Paris: A. Colmer et Cie, September 1913), plate 1. 43 “Pure Fur Law Demanded to Protect Women and Merchants,” New York Times (December 14, 1913), X10. 44 “Fashion: The Verdicts of the Paris Openings,” Vogue (October 1, 1916), 44–5. 45 The Year Book of the Fur Industry (New York: Ready Reference Publishing Co., 1926), 3. 46 Ibid., 11. 47 Lois Long, “On and Off the Avenue,” The New Yorker (October 16, 1926), 46. 48 Ibid. 49 “Paris is Wrapped Up in its New Winter Furs,” Vogue (December 1, 1921), 43. 50 American Album of Fur Novelties, 15. 51 Janet Duer, “The American Woman and Dress,” Art & Life 10, no. 6 (June 1919): 329. 52 “20,000,000 Animals Tortured in Traps,” New York Times (October 24, 1923), 12. 53 The Year Book of the Fur Industry, 19. 54 Agnes C. Laut, The Fur Trade of America (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1921), 40. 55 Frank G. Ashbrook, “Safeguarding the Raw Fur Supply,” in The Year Book of the Fur Industry (New York: Ready Reference Publishing Co., 1926), 25. 56 Ibid., 25. 57 Robert G. Hodgson, The A.B.C. of Fur Farming (Ontario: Fur Trade Journal of Canada, 1967), 7. 58 “Made in America: Fur Coats by the Millions; New Colours, Dyed or Bred,” Vogue (February 1, 1951), 235. 59 “Curious Farming,” New York Times (April 22, 1866), 4. 60 “Animals: Fur Week,” Time (November 13, 1933), online archive. 61 Lois J. Fenske and Dwight E. Robinson, “The Flight from Fur: A Study of Technological Innovation in a Luxury Market,” Dress 10 (1984): 27. 62 Frank G. Ashbrook, Furs: Glamorous and Practical (New York: D. Van Nostrand Company, Inc., 1954), 27. 63 Nan Robertson, “Color in Fur: Some Natural and Some Borrowed,” New York Times (October 7, 1955), 28. 64 “Furs, Profits, Foreign Trade: New King of Beasts,” Time (January 31, 1944), online archive. 65 Christian Dior, The Little Dictionary of Fashion (New York: Abrams, 2007), 77. 66 The Lady Wants Mink, prod. and dir. William A. Seiter, A Republic Picture, 1953, DVD. 67 Ibid. 68 “Fur: The Latest Thing,” Time (December 29, 1952), online archive. 69 Angela Taylor, “Furriers Venture Forth Into Miniskirt and Pants World,” New York Times (June 16, 1967), FS47. 70 “Fashion: Fun Furs,” Time (October 22, 1965), online archive. 71 Cedric Larson, “Terms of the fur Industry,” American Speech 24, no. 2 (April 1949): 97–8. 72 “How to Buy a Fur Coat,” Vogue (October 1, 1959), 191. 73 “How to Buy a Mink Coat,” Vogue (August 15, 1961), 78. 74 Caren Goldberg, “Fur is Better on the Real Owner,” New York Times (November 10, 1985), CN34. 75 Kathy Larkin, “Fur-Weather Forecast,” New York (November 20, 1978), 115. 76 Barbara Ettore, “Furriers Worry About Their Boom,” New York Times (December 10, 1978), F11. 77 Although the press treated the youthful consumer as something of a new phenomenon, it was not the first time fur buying had skewed toward a younger generation. According to “Modern Living: The Year of the Fur,” Time (December 15, 1967), by the end of the 1960s, many buyers of minks were middle class or working women in their twenties. 179

Notes 78 Kirk Johnson, “Fur Sales Boom—And So Do Imports,” New York Times (April 7, 1985), F8. 79 “The Audubon Society,” Forest and Stream 10 (February 11, 1886), 41. 80 “The Audubon Society,” Forest and Stream 10 (March 18, 1886), 141. 81 Frank Graham, Jr., The Audubon Ark: A History of the National Audubon Society (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1990), 3. 82 Jennifer Price, “Hats Off to Audubon,” Audubon Magazine (December 2004); Graham, The Audubon Ark, 15, 18. 83 Allen, “The Present Wholesale Destruction of Bird-Life in the United States,” 195. 84 “Haphazard Jottings,” Vogue (June 25, 1896), 433. 85 T. Gilbert Pearson, “Birds as a Universal Appeal,” The Art World 2, no. 1 (April 1917): 37. 86 Allen, “The Present Wholesale Destruction of Bird-Life in the United States,” 195. 87 Witmer Stone, “Report of the A.O.U. Committee on the Protection of North American Birds,” The Auk 16, no. 1 (January 1899): 57–8. 88 Saks and Company, advertisement, New York Times (October 5, 1913), 5. 89 “Audubon Hats Here,” New York Times (October 26, 1913), XX10. 90 Graham, The Audubon Ark, 39. 91 “Pleading for the Birds,” New York Times (January 3, 1900), 12. 92 “Concerning Animals,” Vogue (June 14, 1906), ii. 93 “Ostrich Farms and the Trade,” The Millinery Trade Review 24, no. 6 (June 1899): 63. 94 Ibid. 95 Souvenir Catalogue: Cawston Ostrich Farm (South Pasadena, CA: Edwin Cawston, 1907–1908), 9, 10. 96 Souvenir Catalogue, 5, 20–1. Robin Doughty cites the same remarks which were also printed in the souvenir catalog from 1906. “Ostrich Farming American Style,” Agricultural History 47, no. 2 (April 1973): 143. 97 “The Slaughter of the Innocents,” Harper’s Bazar (May 22, 1875), 338. 98 “Notes and News,” The Auk 17, no. 3 (July 1900): 323. 99 “A Bill for Bird Protection,” Forest and Stream 10 (February 26, 1886): 84. 100 T. S. Palmer, Legislation for the Protection of Birds Other Than Game Birds (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1900), 52. 101 “Birds Saved by the Trade: A Concession to Sentiment,” The Millinery Trade Review 25, no. 5 (May 1900): 13. 102 “Scientific Notes and News,” Science 11, no. 284 (June 8, 1900): 916. 103 “Notes and News,” The Auk, 324. 104 “Women Here and There—Their Frills and Fancies,” New York Times (September 16, 1900), 19. 105 “In the Business World: Millinery Trade at War,” New York Times (November 15, 1903), 24. 106 Robin W. Doughty, Feather Fashions and Bird Preservation: A Study in Nature Protection (Berkeley, Los Angeles and London: University of California Press, 1975), 115. 107 “In the Business World: Won’t Attack the Birds Laws,” New York Times (January 24, 1904), 24. 108 Doughty, Feather Fashions and Bird Preservation, 125–6. 109 “Cruelty to Animals,” New York Times (July 24, 1873), 8. 110 “Hints for Fur Buyers,” 11. 111 A Repentant Sinner, “Furs and Their Wearers: A Lady’s Confession,” in The Animals’ Friend, ed. Sidney Trist (London: George Bell & Sons, 1896–1897), 64. 112 “Hints for Fur Buyers,” 11. 113 Ibid. 180

Notes 114 Ibid. 115 “Wear No Fur of Animal Killed Inhumanely, Mrs. Fiske Urges,” The Milwaukee Journal (April 1, 1920), 10. 116 “Mrs. Fiske Exposes Trapper Cruelties,” Berkeley Daily Gazette (June 15, 1925), 6. 117 “Wear No Fur of Animal Killed Inhumanely, Mrs. Fiske Urges,” 10. 118 “Mrs. Fiske Exposes Trapper Cruelties,” 6. 119 “Topics of the Times,” New York Times (December 1, 1924), 16. 120 “Environment: Mink Yes, Tiger No,” Time (August 31, 1970), online archive; “Traffic in Savagery,” New York Times (September 19, 1968), 46. 121 “Fashion: After Mink, What?” Time (October 5, 1962), online archive. 122 “Fur: A New Species,” Harper’s Bazaar (August 1970), 106. 123 Angela Taylor, “Fur Coats: Facing Extinction at Conservationists’ Hand?,” New York Times (December 30, 1969), 28. 124 William G. Conway, “Biologist’s Despair,” New York Times (November 2, 1969), SM37. 125 “A Vogue Editorial: Furs, Fashion, and Conservation,” Vogue (September 1, 1970), 144. 126 Isadore Barmash, “Trouble-Coated Fur Industry,” New York Times (March 26, 1972), F1. 127 Ibid. 128 Toni Kosover, “Fur Rides High on Fashion,” New York Times (November 21, 1976), 125. 129 “All about PETA,” People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. Available from http://www​.peta​.org​/about​/learn​ -about​-peta​/default​.aspx [Accessed June 6, 2021]. 130 Dirk Johnson, “Some View Battle in Snow Country As Turning Point in War Over Fur,” Special to the New York Times (February 12, 1990), A18. 131 Arthur Samet, Oddly Enough: From Animal Land to Furtown (New York: Fur Education Society, 1938), 196. 132 Gunnar Joergensen, ed., Mink Production (Hilleroed, Denmark: Scientifur, 1985), 186. 133 Katherine Bishop, “From the Shop to Lab to Farm, Animal Rights Battle is Felt,” Special to the New York Times (January 14, 1989), 1. 134 Dan Mathews, Committed (New York: Atria Books, 2007), 5. 135 Stacy Perman, “Anti-Fur Groups Set Fall Offensive,” Women’s Wear Daily (November 23, 1992), 2. 136 Trip Gabriel, “Fur Protesters Interrupt Shows, but Barely,” New York Times (February 11, 2000), A1. 137 Woody Hochswender, “Patterns,” New York Times (May 14, 1991), B7. 138 Alisha Davis, “Road Kill on the Runway,” Newsweek (February 21, 2000), 53. 139 Nadine Brozan, “Chronicle,” New York Times (December 20, 1996), B5. 140 Jennifer Steinhauer, “Fur is Coming Out of the Fashion Industry’s Closet,” New York Times (October 1, 1997), A1. 141 Anna Wintour, “Letter from the Editor: Cultural Conflicts,” Vogue (May 1998), 58. 142 Teri Agins, “Boss Talk: Pulling Fashion’s Strings”; Vogue Editor Anna Wintour is Arbiter, Adviser, Kingmaker; “I Like the Fun and the Fancy,” Wall Street Journal (September 16, 2003), B1. 143 Eric Wilson, “PETA to Sponsor Show,” Women’s Wear Daily (January 29, 2002), 2. 144 “Denounce Wearing of Bird Feathers,” New York Times (October 23, 1923), 12. 145 “Fake Fur, Very Much at Home,” Vogue (October 15, 1949), 75. 146 “Fake Fur Becomes a Novelty Fabric,” New York Times (September 13, 1950), 42. 147 Virginia Pope, “Patterns of the Times: Fashioned for Fake Furs,” New York Times (November 13, 1950), 24. 148 Herbert Koshetz, “Imitation Fur is Flying High as Fabric for Women’s Coats,” New York Times (June 17, 1964), 59. 149 “Demand for Fake Leather,” New York Times (September 1, 1968), F7. 181

Notes 150 Isadore Barmash, “Young Won’t Think Mink; Furs Slump,” New York Times (September 21, 1969), F1. 151 The advertisement asserted that at the time of printing roughly 590 tigers existed. “Advertisement: E. F. Timme & Sons, Inc.” Vogue (July 1, 1970), 14. 152 Linda Wells, “Imitation of Life,” New York Times (November 1, 1987), SM62. 153 Stacy Perman, “The Fur is Flying,” Women’s Wear Daily (April 19, 1994), 6. 154 Constance C. R. White, “Blass Pullout Alarms Industry,” Women’s Wear Daily (January 31, 1989), 13. 155 “Background,” Origin Assured. Available from http://www​.originassured​.com​/index​.php​/initiative/ [Accessed September 2, 2013]. 156 “Origin Assured,” Fur Free Alliance. Available from https://www​.furfreealliance​.com​/origin​-assured/ [Accessed June 6, 2021]. 157 Sorenson, “Ethical Fashion and the Exploitation of Nonhuman Animals,” 154. 158 Sally Beatty, “Weekend Journal: Fall Fashion: The Big Cover-up,” Wall Street Journal (September 3, 2004), W1. 159 “Silence on the Lambs,” New York Times (February 27, 1994), SM16. 160 Quoted text appears on 144. Sorenson, “Ethical Fashion and the Exploitation of Nonhuman Animals,” 142–4, 147. 161 “Retailing Fur Flies Again,” Time (December 29, 1975), online archive. 162 Sorenson, “Ethical Fashion and the Exploitation of Nonhuman Animals,” 152. 163 Ibid., 151. 164 Siegle, “Burning Issue.” 165 Quantis (2018). Measuring Fashion. Available from https://quantis​-intl​.com​/wp​-content​/uploads​/2018​/03​/ measuringfashion​_globalimpactstudy​_full​-report​_quantis​_cwf​_2018a​.pdf [Accessed June 21, 2021]. 166 Sorenson, “Ethical Fashion and the Exploitation of Nonhuman Animals,” 141. 167 Louise St. Pierre, “Design and Nature: A History,” in Design and Nature: A Partnership, ed. Kate Fletcher, Louise St. Pierre and Mathilda Tham (Abingdon: Routledge, 2019), 93. 168 Ibid., 101. 169 Siegle, “Burning Issue.”

Chapter 6 1 Alice Payne, Designing Fashion’s Future: Present Practice and Tactics for Sustainable Change (London: Bloomsbury, 2021), 176. 2 Ibid., 26. 3 Ibid., 8. 4 Jason Hickel, Less is More: How Degrowth will Save the World (London: Windmill Books, 2020), 20. 5 Ibid., 21. 6 Lewis Akenji, Magnus Bengtsson, Viivi Toivio and Michael Lettenmeier, 1.5-Degree Lifestyles: Towards A Fair Consumption Space for All: Summary for Policy Makers (Berlin: Hot or Cool Institute, 2021), 5. 7 Prototype by Gillian Allsopp, Kate Harper, Johnny O’Flynn and a fourth Fashion Fictions contributor based on World 54, which was contributed by Wendy Ward: https://fashionfictions​.org​/2021​/03​/09​/world​-54/. 8 Hickel, Less is More, 22. 9 Ellen MacArthur Foundation, A New Textiles Economy: Redesigning Fashion’s Future (2017), 18. Available from https://www​.ell​enma​cart​hurf​oundation​.org​/assets​/downloads​/publications​/A​-New​-Textiles​-Economy​_Full​-Report​ _Updated​_1​-12​-17​.pdf [Accessed July 25, 2021]. 182

Notes 10 Alastair Fuad-Luke, Design Activism: Beautiful Strangeness for a Sustainable World (Abingdon: Routledge, 2009), preface, ProQuest Ebook Central. 11 Hickel, Less is More, 20. 12 WWF, Living Planet Report 2020: Bending the Curve of Biodiversity Loss (Gland: WWF, 2020), 3. 13 Hickel, Less is More, 40. 14 Kate Fletcher and Mathilda Tham, Earth Logic Fashion Action Research Plan (London: The J J Charitable Trust, 2019), 27. 15 Ibid., 149–50. 16 James D. Ward, Paul C. Sutton, Adrian D. Werner et al., “Is Decoupling GDP Growth from Environmental Impact Possible?” PLoS ONE 11, no. 10 (2016): e0164733, https://doi​.org​/10​.1371​/journal​.pone​.0164733. 17 Hickel, Less is More, 29. 18 Ibid. 19 Fuad-Luke, Design Activism, preface. 20 M. Angela Jansen, “Fashion and the Phantasmagoria of Modernity: An Introduction to Decolonial Fashion Discourse,” Fashion Theory 24 (2020): 6, 817, doi:10.1080/1362704X.2020.1802098. 21 Lynda Grose, “Lynda Grose Keynote – Fashion and Sustainability: Where We Are and Where We Need to Be,” Fashion Practice 11, no. 3 (2019): 296. 22 “Jumpsuit,” Available from https://www​.jumpsu​.it [Accessed January 30, 2022]. 23 Ibid. 24 Heather Radke, “The Jumpsuit That Will Replace All Clothes Forever,” The Paris Review (March 21, 2018). Available from https://www​.theparisreview​.org​/blog​/2018​/03​/21​/the​-jumpsuit​-that​-will​-replace​-all​-clothes​-forever/ [Accessed January 30, 2022]. 25 Rebecca Burgess, Fibershed: Growing a Movement of Farmers, Fashion Activists, and Makers for a New Textile Economy (White River Junction, VT: Chelsea Green Publishing, 2019), 50. 26 Ibid., 14. 27 Ibid., 19. 28 Justine Aldersey-Williams, “Homegrown Homespun: Field to Fabric,” Northwest England Fibreshed (December 31, 2021). Available from https://nor​thwe​sten​glan​dfib​reshed​.org​/homegrown​-homespun​-field​-to​-fabric/ [Accessed January 30, 2022]. 29 J. K. Gibson-Graham, Jenny Cameron and Stephen Healey, Take Back the Economy (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2013), 13. 30 Cameron Tonkinwise, “I Prefer Not To: Anti-Progressive Designing,” in UnDesign: Critical Practices at the Intersection of Art and Design, ed. Gretchen Coombs, Andrew McNamara and Gavin Sade (Abingdon: Routledge, 2017), 82–3. 31 Ha-Joon Chang, “Economics, Science Fiction, History and Comparative Studies,” in Economic Science Fictions, ed. William Davies (London: Goldsmiths Press, 2018), 40. 32 Hickel, Less is More, 42–5. 33 J. M. Neeson, Commoners: Common Right, Enclosure and Social Change in England, 1700–1820 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 297. 34 Hickel, Less is More, 45. Hickel’s original source is Christopher Dyer, “A Redistribution of Income in 15th Century England,” Past and Present 39 (1968): 33. 35 Hickel, Less is More, 45–6. 36 Ellen Meiksins Wood, “The Transition from Feudalism to Capitalism” (August 3, 2020). Available from https:// www​.versobooks​.com​/blogs​/4809​-the​-transition​-from​-feudalism​-to​-capitalism [Accessed January 30, 2022]. 37 Hickel, Less is More, 46–7.

183

Notes 38 Wood, “The Transition from Feudalism to Capitalism.” 39 Hickel, Less is More, 48. 40 Ibid. 41 Anthony Giddens, The Consequences of Modernity (Cambridge: Polity, 1990), 1. 42 Vanessa Machado de Oliveira, Hospicing Modernity: Facing Humanity’s Wrongs and the Implications for Social Activism (Berkeley, CA: North Atlantic Books, 2021), 17. 43 Payne, Designing Fashion’s Future, 5. 44 Machado de Oliveira, Hospicing Modernity, 16–17. 45 Hickel, Less is More, 32. 46 Machado de Oliveira, Hospicing Modernity, 20. 47 Hickel, Less is More, 31. 48 Elizabeth Wilson, Adorned in Dreams: Fashion and Modernity (London: Virago Press, 1985), 22. 49 Wilson, along with other theorists such as Braudel, would not consider these earlier systems as “fashion.” We choose to do so, using Payne’s conceptualization of fashion systems outlined at the start of the chapter. 50 Wilson, Adorned in Dreams, 26. 51 Ibid., 20. 52 Ibid., 22. 53 Giorgio Riello, Cotton: The Fabric that Made the Modern World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 2. 54 Hickel, Less is More, 49–50. 55 Ibid., 50. 56 Glenn Ward, Understand Postmodernism (London: Teach Yourself, 2010), 8–9. 57 Machado de Oliveira, Hospicing Modernity, 19. 58 Riello, Cotton, 3. 59 Ibid. 60 Chris Osuh, “The Workers of Manchester Said Black Lives Matter 150 Years Ago - and We Say the Same Today,” Manchester Evening News (June 6, 2020). Available from https://www​.man​ches​tere​veni​ngnews​.co​.uk​/news​/workers​ -manchester​-said​-black​-lives​-18371774 [Accessed January 30, 2022]. 61 Don Slater, Consumer Culture & Modernity (Cambridge: Polity, 1997), 8. 62 Gilles Lipovetsky, The Empire of Fashion: Dressing Modern Democracy (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1994), 55. 63 Wilson, Adorned in Dreams, 32. 64 William Morris, Art and Socialism (London: Electric Book Company, [1884] 2000), 9, ProQuest Ebook Central. 65 Wilson, Adorned in Dreams, 27. 66 Ibid., 26. 67 Alastair McIntosh, Riders on the Storm: The Climate Crisis and the Survival of Being (Edinburgh: Birlinn, 2020), 182. 68 Lipovetsky, The Empire of Fashion, 5. 69 Ibid., 95. 70 Fuad-Luke, Design Activism, Chapter 2. 71 Payne, Designing Fashion’s Future, 18. 72 Giddens, The Consequences of Modernity, 64. 73 Payne, Designing Fashion’s Future, 26. 184

Notes 74 Ibid., 169. 75 Ibid. Payne’s original source is Erica de Greef, “Long Read: Fashion, Sustainability and Decoloniality,” Twyg (December 7, 2019). Available at https://twyg​.co​.za​/long​-read​-fashion​-sustainability​-and​-decoloniality/ [Accessed February 17, 2022]. 76 Machado de Oliveira, Hospicing Modernity, 23. 77 David Fleming, Lean Logic: A Dictionary for the Future and How to Survive It (White River Junction, VT: Chelsea Green Publishing, 2016), 209. 78 Contributed by Ann-Sophie Maria Mueller, Natasha Tjandradinata, Payal Vinod Harilela, Reyhan Faustino and Vivian Darlene Utomo, https://fashionfictions​.org​/2021​/05​/12​/world​-107/. 79 Mary Schoeser, Silk (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2007), 13. 80 Contributed by Matthew Crowley: https://fashionfictions​.org​/2021​/02​/04​/world​-50/ 81 Contributed by Lizzie Harrison: https://fashionfictions​.org​/2020​/07​/13​/world​-12/. 82 Contributed by Sally Cooke: https://fashionfictions​.org​/2020​/12​/17​/world​-41/. 83 Contributed by Victoria Coutts: https://fashionfictions​.org​/2020​/11​/16​/world​-24/. 84 Contributed by Katie Hill: https://fashionfictions​.org​/2020​/11​/17​/world​-26/. 85 Contributed by Eishan Tejwani: https://fashionfictions​.org​/2021​/06​/22​/world​-116/. 86 Contributed by Sarah Cheang: https://fashionfictions​.org​/2021​/04​/23​/world​-90/. 87 Aileen Ribeiro, “Zippypyjamas and Buskins of Green Diamonds: Dressing Utopia Throughout the Ages,” Vestoj: The Journal of Sartorial Matters 6 (2015): 77. 88 Kate Luck, “Trouble in Eden, Trouble with Eve: Women, Trousers and Utopian Socialism in Nineteenth-Century America,” in Chic Thrills: A Fashion Reader, ed. Juliet Ash and Elizabeth Wilson (London: Pandora Press, 1992), 202. 89 Gayle V. Fischer, Pantaloons and Power: A Nineteenth-Century Dress Reform in the United States (Kent, OH: Kent State University Press, 2001), 35. 90 Fischer, Pantaloons and Power, 36. Fischer’s original source is Karl Bernhard, “Travels Through North America, During the Years 1825 and 1826,” in Indiana as Seen by Early Travelers, ed. Harlow Lindley (Indianapolis: Indiana Historical Commission, 1916), 424. 91 Ibid., 38. Fischer’s original source is New Harmony, An Adventure in Happiness: The Papers of Thomas and Sarah Pears, ed. Thomas Pears (Indianapolis: Indiana Historical Society, 1933), 33. 92 Ibid., 38. 93 Luck, “Trouble in Eden, Trouble with Eve,” 202. 94 David Kunzle, Fashion and Fetishism (Totowa, NJ: Rowman and Littlefield, 1982), 122. 95 Luck, “Trouble in Eden, Trouble with Eve,” 206. 96 Ibid., 83. 97 Ibid., 209. 98 Amelia Bloomer, “Dress Reform,” The Lily 5 (March 1853). Reproduced in Radu Stern, Against Fashion: Clothing as Art, 1850–1930 (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2004), 82. 99 Luck, “Trouble in Eden, Trouble with Eve,” 211. 100 Fischer, Pantaloons and Power, 175–6. 101 Fuad-Luke, Design Activism, Chapter 2. 102 Stern, Against Fashion, 29. 103 Le Gallerie degli Uffizi, “Trouser Suit Pattern: Thayaht (Ernesto Michahelles) (Firenze 1893 – Marina Di Pietrasanta, Lucca 1959),” Available from https://wwfw .uffizi .it /en /artworks /tuta -thayaht -en [Accessed February 17, 2022]. 104 Ibid. 185

Notes 105 Ibid. 106 Ibid., 45. 107 Ibid., 47–51. 108 World 75 was contributed anonymously: https://fashionfictions​.org​/2021​/04​/05​/world​-75/. 109 Annebella Pollen, “Utopian Bodies and Anti-Fashion Futures: The Dress Theories and Practices of English Interwar Nudists,” Utopian Studies 28 (2017): 3, 452. 110 Ibid., 458. 111 J. C. Flugel, The Psychology of Clothes (1930; London: Hogarth Press, 1940), 238. 112 Pollen, “Utopian Bodies and Anti-Fashion Futures,” 457. Pollen’s original source is Noel Poynter, “I Believe,” Gymnos 1, no. 12 (1934): 16. 113 Ibid., 474–5. 114 Ibid., 475. 115 Ibid., 452. 116 Contributed by Becca Warner: https://fashionfictions​.org​/2020​/11​/24​/world​-30/. 117 Anne L. Macdonald, No Idle Hands: The Social History of American Knitting (New York: Ballantine Books, 1988), 27. 118 Ibid., 28–9. 119 Ibid., 29. 120 Ibid., 33. 121 Lisa Trivedi, Clothing Gandhi’s Nation: Homespun and Modern India (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2007). 122 Chiara Clarke Sivaro, “Dressing is Easy,” The Towner (2018). Webpage no longer available. 123 Carol Tulloch, “There’s No Place Like Home: Home Dressmaking and Creativity in the Jamaican Community of the 1940s to the 1960s,” in The Culture of Sewing: Gender, Consumption and Home Dressmaking, ed. Barbara Burman (Oxford: Berg, 1999), 114. 124 Ibid., 122. 125 Ibid., 114. Tulloch’s original source is Charles Hamblett and Jane Deverson, Generation X (London: Library 33, Anthony Gibbs & Phillips Ltd, 1964). 126 Contributed by Ali Leach: https://fashionfictions​.org​/2021​/03​/06​/world​-52/. 127 Contributed by Louize Harries: https://fashionfictions​.org​/2020​/07​/17​/world​-14/. 128 Marie Hartley and Joan Ingilby, The Old Hand-Knitters of the Dales (Lancaster: The Dalesman Publishing Company, 1991), 16–17. 129 Ibid., 21. 130 Ibid., 17. 131 Rare Book Division, The New York Public Library, “Wensley Dale knitters,” New York Public Library Digital Collections. Available from https://digitalcollections​.nypl​.org​/items​/510d47dc​-dcbc​-a3d9​-e040​-e00a18064a99 [Accessed January 30, 2022]. 132 Ibid., 75. 133 Ibid., 76. 134 Contributed by Becca Warner: https://fashionfictions​.org​/2020​/11​/24​/world​-30/. 135 Hartley and Ingilby, The Old Hand-Knitters of the Dales, 79. 136 Contributed by Emily Jego-Rolfe: https://fashionfictions​.org​/2021​/04​/23​/world​-83/.

186

Notes 137 Sue Clifford and Angela King, England in Particular: A Celebration of the Commonplace, the Local, the Vernacular and the Distinctive (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 2006), ix. 138 Contributed by Nick Gant: https://fashionfictions​.org​/2020​/12​/17​/world​-42/. 139 Contributed by Christina Suntovski: https://fashionfictions​.org​/2021​/04​/23​/world​-81/. 140 Alison Toplis, The Hidden History of the Smock Frock (London: Bloomsbury, 2021), 1. 141 Ibid., 113, 122. 142 Ibid., 9. 143 Ibid., 2, 55. 144 Ibid., 31–2. 145 Ibid., 109. 146 Fletcher and Tham, Earth Logic, 45. 147 Contributed by Gisèle Legionnet-Klees: https://fashionfictions​.org​/2021​/03​/13​/world​-58/. 148 Contributed by Sindhu, Dawama, Keran and Jerome: https://fashionfictions​.org​/2021​/05​/12​/world​-106/. 149 Flugel, The Psychology of Clothes, 218. 150 Ibid., 218–21. 151 Sheila Rowbotham, “A New Vision of Society: Women Clothing Workers and the Revolution of 1848 in France,” in Chic Thrills: A Fashion Reader, ed. Juliet Ash and Elizabeth Wilson (London: Pandora Press, 1992), 189–90. 152 Ibid., 194. 153 Ibid., 195. 154 Ibid., 196. 155 Ibid. 156 Ibid., 195–6. 157 Hickel, Less is More, 26. 158 Fletcher and Tham, Earth Logic, 11–12. 159 Tyson Yunkaporta, Sand Talk: How Indigenous Thinking Can Save the World (Melbourne: Text Publishing, 2019), 163. 160 Timo Rissanen, “Free Fashion?,” Responsible Fashion Series, Antwerp, October 14–22, 2021. 161 Prototype by Jade Lord based on World 19, which was contributed by Katherine Pogson: https://fashionfictions​.org​ /2020​/09​/22​/world​-19/. 162 Tonkinwise, “I Prefer Not To,” 81–2. 163 Stern, Against Fashion, 51.

Conclusion 1 Lizzie O’Shea, Future Histories: What Ada Lovelace, Tom Paine, and the Paris Commune can Teach Us about Digital Technology (London: Verso, 2021), 7. 2 Ibid., 9. 3 Ibid., 6. 4 UN Environment, Global Environment Outlook – GEO-6: Summary for Policymakers (Nairobi, 2019), 16, doi:10.1017/9781108639217. 5 Henry Glassie, “The Practice and Purpose of History,” The Journal of American History 81, no. 3 (1994): 961.

187

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190

GLOSSARY

Aigrette  the feather of an egret or white heron, used as millinery trimming during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Aniline dyes  synthetic chemical dyes, derived from coal tar. Capitalism  an economic system in which the means of production are privately owned and the goods or services produced are traded to generate profit; most people are workers who sell their labor for a wage. Cooperative (or collective)  a group of artisans, usually involved in the handcrafting or production of goods, often found in impoverished areas. Cruelty-free  any material that is not derived from or does not harm an animal through its production; this category encompasses all synthetic or manmade fibers. Degrowth  a managed and equitable reduction of excess energy and resource use, undertaken to bring the economy into balance with the planet’s biophysical limits. Dress reform  intentional efforts to change clothing conventions, often driven by political or moral convictions. Dye effluent  the waste, primarily liquid, generated during the dyeing process. Fair trade  a supportive, ongoing trade relationship in which trading partners are provided with just treatment, wages and/or compensation. Fast fashion  trend-driven clothing that is made as cheaply and quickly as possible, and that is intended for wear a small number of times before disposal. Greenwashing  the incorporation of a marginal amount of sustainable practice into a business model, usually implemented by large organizations in an attempt to enhance their public image. Manmade fibers  fibers that are chemically produced from natural polymers. Common manmade fibers include acetate and rayon. Mordant  a substance or material used as a dye fixative. Natural fibers  fibers that are derived from plants (such as cotton and linen) or animals (such as silk and wool). Post-capitalism or post-growth  an economy organized around well-being—meeting the fundamental human needs of the global population—rather than the growth that is required by a capitalist economy. Post-consumer waste  refuse consisting of consumer products that have been disposed of at the end of their lifecycles. Pre-consumer waste  refuse resulting from the processing and manufacture of a consumer product; in fashion production, this refers to materials such as scrap fabric. Recycled textiles  fibers that have been fully reprocessed and converted into new fabrics. Repurposed clothing  garments that were heavily altered, or entirely refashioned from existing garments or textiles. Secondhand clothing  garments re-distributed to new owners, usually through being given away, or through resale at a secondhand shop or market. Slow fashion  a method of clothing production that centers on transparent production models, the use of local resources and economies, and the creation of high-quality goods with greater value and longer lives. Sweatshop  any working environment in which production of goods is done through violation of any aspect of fair labor, whether that is wages, hours, or conditions of work; the word is derived from the manufacturing chain in which a contractor, or “sweater” is the middleman between manufacturer and “sweated” employee. Synthetic fibers  fibers that are chemically produced from artificial polymers. Common synthetic fibers include acrylic, nylon, and polyester. Transparency  initiatives to openly share information, usually about the production of fibers, materials or garments; typically driven by the idea that openness will drive up standards. Upcycling  the technique of transforming unwanted materials into products of equal—or usually higher—value. Zero waste  a method of clothing design and production that results in minimal refuse, particularly focused on the elimination of scrap fabric.

192

INDEX

Page references in italics denote a figure accidents  87, see also building collapse; fires acrylic  15, 18 Adrian, Gilbert  48–9, 49 advertising  139, 139 aigrettes  109 Alabama Chanin  52–3, 52, 53 Aldersey-Williams, Justine  133 Ali Enterprises fire  93, 94 Allen, J. A.  107, 118 alligators  110, 112 altering garments  42, 49, 63, 68 aniline dyes  23–5, 24 animal populations, depletion of  107–9, 112, 118, 121, 123 animal welfare  105, 4 118, 119–23, 124–5 AOU (American Ornithologists’ Union)  118–19 Appalachia  101 apprenticeships  92–3 Archizoom  148 arsenic  23–5 artisanship  51, 64, 101–2 Arts & Crafts movement  145, 151 Ashbrook, Frank G.  116 ASPCA (American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals)  119, 120 Aspinall, Matilda  8 Audubon hats  118 Audubon Society  110–11, 117–8 Auk, The  109, 118 azo dyes  25 Bailey-Cooper, Naomi  108 bamboo  31–2, 32 Bangladesh  5, 83, 92, 93 Barmash, Isadore  121, 123 Basel (Switzerland)  25 beavers  111, 115 Bernays, Edward  139 birds  108–11, 109, 110, 117–9 birds of paradise  110–11, 110 Bisno, Abraham  88–90, 95 bleaching  22, 26, 27 Bloomer, Amelia  143, 145, 143, 154 Bok, Edward  109 Bouwer, Marc  123 Brazil  102, 106, 126 brocade silks  42, 66 Brown, Frederic Kenyon  88 building collapse  5, 93

Burgess, Rebecca  133 Byerly, Victoria  86 California  118, 119, 133 Cambodia  83, 86 capitalism  129–30, 132, 134–8, 140 Carson, Rachel  4, 14, 25 cashmere  24, 26 Cawston Ostrich Farm  118, 119 C. C. Shayne’s  111–12 cellophane  20, 21 cellulose  12, 17, 20, 31 Chanin, Natalie  52–3, 52, 53 Chapman, Frank M.  108, 118 Cheap Chic (Milinaire and Troy)  46 child labor  87–8, 89, 90, 92, 101 China  16, 32 chinchillas  111 Chowdhury Knitwear Factory fire  93 chromium  105 Chu, Changxian  59 Ciel  31 circular economy  61, 79–81 climate change  1–3, 126, 129, 140, 157 closed-loop systems  31, 79, 80 Clothing Durability Dozen  37 coal tar  22–5, 24 collectives  83, 101–2, 101, 102, see also cooperatives; fair trade coloniality  38, 137, 140, 154 commons  134, 135, 135 composite plumes  108, 109 conspicuous consumption  112, 116, 121 consumer culture  138–9, 139 consumer ethics  90, 96, 108–9, 113, 115, 220 Consumers’ League  96 Coopa-Roca  102–3, 102 cooperatives  5, 101–2, see also collectives; fair trade corporate responsibility  100 cotton  13–15, 26–8, 28, 39, 137–8 cotton gins  14, 15 cotton mills  85, 87, 88, 89, 138 Courrèges, André  21 couture  48–50, 138 craft, traditional  101–3 Crawford, M. D. C.  13, 91, 96, 97 crazy quilts  66, 68, 69 cruelty to animals  109, 119–20 cruelty-free materials  108, 118

Index custom-made clothes  44, 58, 148, see also couture Cut My Cote (Burnham)  56 de Castro, Orsola  79 de la Renta, Oscar  122, 124, 125 deadstock  64, 75 deforestation  106, 126 degrowth  131 denim  59, 133 Dent  148–50 Deroin, Jeanne  153, 154 designer’s role  140, 145, 148 Dior, Christian  49, 50, 116 discharge printing  26, 33 disposability and clothing  12, 44–6, 47, 114, 140 diverse economies  133–4 Dolce & Gabbana  125 draw looms  41, 41 dress reform  142–3, 143, 145, 151 dressing gowns  68–9, 69 Dressing is Easy  147 dressmakers, see custom-made clothes Du Pont  17 dualism  136–7 durability  37, 40, 58 dye effluent  25 dyeing  22–6, 22, 24, 26, 32–4 Dyeing, Remodeling, Budgets  68 Earley, Rebecca  5, 78, 80 Earth Logic Fashion Action Research Plan (Fletcher and Tham)  4, 131, 151–2, 153 Easton, J. R.  33 ecology look  34 education  150 Edun  102 egrets  108, 110, 119 elephants  110, 111 emotional durability  37, 58 enclosure  134–6 enslaved people  14, 15, 92, 137 environmental impacts of textile production difficulties in assessing  11, 34 dyeing  23–6, 32–3 leather and fur  105, 126 manmade fibers  17, 19, 30–2 natural fibers  14–16, 27–30 recycled and reused textiles  80 synthetic fibers  17–20 Esprit ecollection  4, 5 exhibitions  1, 76, 78 extinction, see animal populations, depletion of fabric scraps  65–7 factories/shops  88–90, 92 fair trade  27, 29, 101–2, see also collectives; cooperatives farmed birds  118 farmed fur  116, 121–2

194

Farmer, Charles W.  119 Fashion Fictions ideas in fictions  134, 141, 145, 148, 150, 151 project and process  129, 130, 154 Fashion Is Spinach (Hawes)  99 Fashion Revolution  83, 84 fashion systems  129, 136–8, 140, 148, 153 fast fashion  19, 37, 129, 140 faux feathers  108, 118 faux fur  105, 123–5, 124, 125 faux leather  105–7 feathers  108–11, 109, 110, 118–20 feudalism  134 fiber recycling  61–2, 70–1, 71, 79–80 Fibershed  34, 133 FIN  32, 81 fires  89, 91, 93–4, 94, 95 Fisher, Eileen  61 Fiske, Minnie Maddern  120 flax  30, 133 fleece  79 Fletcher, Kate  4, 34, 59, 131, 151, 153 Florence (AL)  52 Flugel, J. C.  146, 152 food by-products  105, 110, 117, 124 Fortuny, Mariano  33 Fox, Sally  27 foxes  114, 115 France  3, 40, 43, 143 fur  111–17, 113–15, 120–5 Fur Trade of America, The (Laut)  115 futurists  145 garment workers  83, 90–3, 90, 100, 103 genetically modified cotton  27 Gernreich, Rudi  46 Ghana  38 Gifford, Kathie Lee  92 globalization  91–3, 133, 140 Goldsworthy, Kate  11, 12 Granberg, Hjalmar  11, 12 Great Depression  45, 67, 96 Great Exhibition  138 green consumerism  58 green growth  131 Greenpeace  32–3 greenwashing  27, 34–5, 125 Grose, Lynda  5, 35, 37, 39, 132 groundwater contamination  25 growth  130–1, 140 growth in clothing production  35, 37, 45, 81, 130, see also overconsumption hand production  38–40, 51 handbags  20, 54, 54, 67, 112 hand-knitting industry  148–50, 149 Hard Times (Terkel)  68 Hard Times Cotton Mill Girls (Byerly)  88

Index Hargreaves, James  41 hats  107–11, 109, 110, 118–19 Hawes, Elizabeth  99 hawksbill turtles  110 health reform  145 heat-transfer printing  33 hemp  30 herons  108–9 Hickel, Jason  129–31, 135–7 Hine, Lewis Wickes  89 hippie culture  4, 20, 52, 74 history, learning from  1, 8, 134, 154–5 home-based workers  89–90, 100 Homegrown Homespun  133 homemade clothes, see making at home homespun movement  147, 154 hosiery  18 How the Other Half Lives (Riis)  88–90 How to Dress on £15, a Year  55 How to Make-Do-and-Mend  68 human impacts of textile and garment production  14, 16, 23–5, 28, 86 ILGWU (International Ladies’ Garment Workers’ Union)  91, 95–7, 100 India  11, 13, 14, 92, 147 Indiana  142–3 Indigenous communities  127, 133, 153 indigo  13, 22, 133, 150 individualism  136–7 Industrial Revolution  13–14, 38, 41–3, 137 Ingwersen, Peter  29 instructions for making and mending  53, 68–9, 70, 144, 147, see also kits Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC)  1 Italy  144 ivory  110, 111 Jacquard looms  42–3 Jamaican community in Britain  147–8 Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency  123 Johnson, Betsey  72 JUMPSUIT (project)  132, 132, 151 jumpsuits (garment)  132, 132, 142, 144, 151 Jungmann, Felix  114 just transition  103 Kantamanto Market  38, 79 Kashmir shawls  65 Kernaghan, Charles  93, 100 Kibel, Jennifer Feingold  46 Kirkum, Helen  61, 64 kits  37, 39, 66–7, 148, see also instructions Kouyaté, Lamine  76, 77, 78 labeling campaigns  96–7, 98, 124 labor regulations  96–7 Ladies’ Waist and Dress Manufacturers’ Association  95

Lady Wants Mink, The (film)  116 Lancashire Cotton Famine  138 landfills  38, 56, 79–80 laundering  12, 16, 18–19, 29, 55 Laut, Agnes C.  115 leather  105, 106 leather alternatives  105–7 legislation  118–20 Lelong, Lucien  21 L’Encyclopédie (Diderot)  40, 41 Lenzing  31 leopards  120–1, 121 Les Belles Fourrures (Jungmann)  114 Liljeqvist, Josefin  105, 106 linen, see flax lint  87, 88 Lipovetsky, Gilles  138–9 Lo Neel  107 local distinctiveness  150 looms  41–3, 41 Los Angeles  92 Lowell (MA)  85 lyocell  30–1, 31 McCardell, Claire  18 MacDonald, Edith O’Neil  34 McEvoy, Arthur F.  94 McKelway, A. J.  88 McQuillan, Holly  40, 56 Machado de Oliveira, Vanessa  136–7 machine production, development of  42–4, 137 Madame Grès  124 madder  22–3 mainstream fashion system  129, 136–8, 140 Make and Mend for Victory  70 Make Do and Mend  48, 68, 69, 71 making at home  44, 52–53, 55, 147–8 Mali  77 Manchester  138 manmade fibers  17, 19, 30–2 mantuas  65 Margiela, Martin  76–7, 77 marijuana  30 Marshik, Celia  67 materials focus, limitation of  34–5 mauveine  23 Medium  11, 13 mending contemporary practice  8, 61, 62, 80, 132, 141 historical practice  48, 68, 70 mercury  24 Meyer, Max  95, 98 microfibers  20 Miele, Carlos  102, 102 Millinery Merchants’ Protective Association  119–20 mills  84–8, 89 mill workers  85–8, 103 mindsets  103, 126, 132, 136, 140

195

Index mink  113, 115–17, 117, 122–4 modernity  136–8, 140, 145, 147 modular clothing  55 mordants  34 Morris, Kate  11, 12 Morris, William  33–4, 138–9 Mountain Artisans  101–2, 101 mulesing  29 multifunctional clothing  37, 39, 54, 55, 56 natural dyes  11, 13, 22–3, 22, 33–4 natural fibers  13–16, 26–30 nature as resource  126, 136 neoliberalism  140 New Harmony  142–3 New Look (Dior)  49–50, 50 New York City fur industry  114 garment production  88–99 stores and designers  46, 53, 75, 101, 118 New York Creations  97, 98 New York Dress Institute  97, 98 New York State  34, 115 Noir  29 nonwovens  11, 12, 46, 47 North Carolina  85–6, 89 Northern and Southern mills  85–6, 88 North West England Fibreshed  133 nudism  145–6, 146, 154 Nygren, Maija  37, 39 nylon  17–20, 18, 19 offshoring  91–3, 140 Old Hand-Knitters of the Dales, The (Hartley and Ingilby)  149 Or Foundation, The  38, 59 Organic by John Patrick  27, 28, 51–2, 51 organic fibers  26–8, 28, 29 O’Shea, Lizzie  157 ostriches  47 otters  111, 115 overconsumption  3, 35, 38, 46, 130, 140, 157, see also growth in clothing production Owen, Robert  142–3 Packard, Vance  45–6, 139 Paisley shawls  65, 67, 72, 73, 74 Pakistan  93, 94 Papanek, Victor  140 paper clothing  11, 12, 46, 47 Patrick, John  27, 28, 51–2, 51 Payne, Alice  129, 136, 140 peasants  135–7 Pemberton Mill collapse  93 Perkin, William Henry  23 Persian lamb fur  124 Peru  27, 51 pesticides  14, 27–30, 32

196

pests  14, 27 PET bottles  79 PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals)  122–3, 123 petrochemicals  20 Pinatex®  105–7, 107 Ping, Mary  53–4, 54 planetary boundaries  2, 129 plastics  20 plurality  6, 132, 154 pockets  64 poisons, see toxins Politowicz, Kay  11, 12 Pollen, Annebella  146–7 pollution  17, 20, 22, 25, 32–3, see also environmental impacts of textile production polyester  18–20, 33, 79–80 Postal bags  54, 54 post-consumer waste  5, 61 post-growth economy  131 post-growth fashion  132–3, 140 pre-consumer waste  61, 105 Priddy, Al  88 Prosanis label  96–7 protest  3, 95, 122–3, 123 Puzzleware  37, 39 PVC (polyvinyl chloride)  20, 21, 105 quality  48 Quant, Mary  20 quilting  66, 68, 69, 101–2 rabbits  113 raccoons  115, 123 Rana Plaza building collapse  5, 83, 93 Rational Dress Society  132, 132 rationing  47, 69, 152 Ratty, Sarah  31 rayon  16–17, 17, 30–1, 76, 123 ready-made clothing  43–5, 48, 58, 90, 138 ReCreate  83, 86 recycled fabric  71, 79, see also fiber recycling Red Data book  121 reducing consumption  129–30, 151–2 regenerative fiber production  27 Regulation L-85 48–9 repair, see mending reptile skins  109–11, 112 repurposed clothing alterations  42, 50, 63, 68 contemporary practice  8, 61, 64 eighteenth-century clothing  63–5, 64, 66 Great Depression and Second World War  67–9, 70 in 1990s and 2000s  76–8, 78, 79 repurposed fabric  75–6, 76 shawls  65, 67, 72, 73, 74 waistcoat  73, 73 Responsible Wool Standard  29 restricted fabric use  48

Index restricted production  151–3 reticule bags  64 Riis, Jacob  88–90 robe à la française  42 roller printing  22 rotary knives  44 Russia  145 sable  113, 117 Satija, Riddhi Jain  11 scale of fiber production  14–15, see also growth in clothing production; restricted production Schiaparelli, Elsa  16 seals  111, 114 Second World War  18, 47–8, 67–70, 152 secondhand clothing, see also fiber recycling; repurposed clothing contemporary practice  61–2, 62, 141–2 export  38, 79 handing down  61, 65 historical practice (to 1970s)  62–5, 67–8, 75–6 social acceptability  61, 67–8, 72, 75 use by designers in 1990s and 2000s  75–8, 77, 78 Sedgwick, Adam  149 Sekules, Kate  63 self-sufficiency  135 Seventh Avenue (NYC)  75, 99 sewing machines  43–4 sheep  28–9 shibori  13 shirtwaist blouses  44, 45, 90–1 shoddy cloth  70–1, 71 shoes  20, 61, 64, 105, 106 Silent Spring (Carson)  4, 14, 25 silk  16, 105 silk mills  85 slave trade  137–8, see also enslaved people Slifka, Sylvia  73 Slow and Steady Wins the Race  53–4, 54 slow fashion  37, 39, 53, 58, 59 smock  151 snakes  110 socializing while working  149 Sophie  26 Sorenson, John  125 Southern and Northern mills  85–6, 88 Spectrum Garments building collapse  93 spinning jennies  41–2 spinning mules  42, 88 Stanley shirtwaists  44, 45 steam power  43–4 Stein, Leon  94–5 striking  94 subcontracting  83, 93 supply chains  83, 93, 103, 105, 140, 150 support for textile and garment workers  83, 85, 86, 96–8, 102, 153 sustainability  2–3 sustainable fashion  3–5

sweaters (contractors)  89–90, 93 sweatshops  89–90, 90, 92, 96–7, 100–1, see also factories/ shops Sweeney, Genevieve  83 synthetic dyes  23–5, 24 synthetic fibers  17–20 Tatlin, Vladimir  55, 155. Taylor, Alfred Swaine  23 Temporary Outpost of the Blue Fashion Commons, A  134 Tencel, see lyocell tenement shops  88, 90, 98 Thailand  100 Tham, Mathilda  4, 131, 151, 153 Thayaht  144, 145 Thompson, Holland  85–8 Through the Mill (Priddy)  88 Thylan, Ben  117 Tompkins, D. A.  87 tortoiseshell  109, 111, 111 toxins  14, 16, 23–5, 27 traceability, see transparency transformable clothing  37, 39 transparency  83, 103, 105, 106, 126 traps  115, 120 Travis, Anthony S.  25 trends  44–5, 114, 137, 140, 152 Triangle Shirtwaist Co. fire  91, 93, 94, 95 trousers for women  142–4, 143 tuberculosis  89, 96–7 Tulloch, Carol  148 Turlington, Christy  122 turned fabric  63, 73, 73 turtles  109–10 tussah silk  16, 105, 108 Tuta  145, 144, 152 unions  89–91, 94–100, 103 UNITE (Union of Needletrades, Industrial and Textile Employees)  92, 100 upcycling  61, see also repurposed clothing Utility clothing scheme  48, 69, see also Regulation L-85 utopians  142, 145–6, 154 value in textiles and clothes  62–5, 73, 73, 75, 141 veganism  12, 122 vintage clothing  62, 75–6, 105 vinyl  20, 21 Vionnet, Madeleine  97–8, 99 viscose, see rayon visible mending  8, 61, 63 wages  85, 90–1, 96, 99, 102 Wang, Yifan  59 wardrobe size  40, 45 wash and wear clothing  18–19, 19 Wash ’N’ Wear  19 Waste Makers, The (Packard)  45

197

Index wastewater  25, 32–3, 105 water  14–15, 20, 28 weaving  40, 41, 42–3, 56 Whitney, Eli  14, 15 Wilson, Elizabeth  136, 138–9 Winter, Harriet and Lewis  75–6, 76 Wintour, Anna  123 women’s rights  143–4, 143, 153 wool  15–16, 28–9, 71 Woolmark  16, 71, 72 working conditions in factories/shops  88–92, 90, 96–7, 100–1 working conditions in mills  85–8, 89

198

working hours  85–6, 90–1 Worth, Charles Frederick  49, 138 XULY.Bët  75, 77, 78 Yeohlee  56–7, 57 Yesterday’s News  75–6, 76 Yorkshire Dales  148–50, 149 zero waste contemporary practice  13, 40 from 1980s to 2000s  56–7, 57 historical practice (to 1920s)  56, 144, 151

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