It's been a a few months since I posted the first portion of my talk on crafting an ethical wardrobe, so I'd say it's high time to follow up. Last time, I shared some sobering facts about the toll fast fashion is taking on people and the planet, along with my own account of witnessing child labor in Egypt. It was this combination of research and firsthand experience that inspired me to make a drastic change in the way I bought and thought about clothes.

But it certainly hasn't been a cakewalk. It took me three years to compile a modest list of ethical fashion brands. I've been floored by how expensive some sustainable options are. I've been frustrated with the elitism inherent in the ethical lexicon. And I still feel like a total weirdo every time I walk into a store and proceed to turn everything inside out to see where it was made.

In fact for many people cost, confusion, time restraints, and even embarrassment can be major barriers to making more ethical choices. But the wonderful thing about the ethical fashion movement is that it allows you to start small. You don't need to overhaul your closet or become a minimalist or spend $360 on a fair trade scarf (although don't let me discourage you, darling). All you need to do is start asking questions, one of the most important of which is...

Who made my clothes?

It’s simple, but putting a face to the things we interact with everyday – whether it’s the food we eat, the clothes we wear, or the devices we're attached to – can help keep us accountable. During my talk, I brought in several pieces of clothing and accessories from my own closet, which included Shinola, Horween Leather Company, Mata Traders, Everlane, Krochet Kids, and BCBG. I then asked the audience to think for a minute about who they thought might have made them. What were their lives like? How much were they paid? Did they get to design the garments themselves, take pride and ownership of their work? After a brief discussion I shared what I knew about each piece based on the information the companies provided:


The first five companies are all ones I consider to be ethical or sustainable for a variety of reasons. There are a lot of different ways to define "ethical" (which I'll go into in more detail later), but the Ethical Fashion Forum's definition is a good place to start. EFF describes a "triple bottom line" necessary to make a business truly sustainable: social, environmental, and commercial responsibility . In other words, truly ethical fashion goes beyond simply doing no harm; it actively reduces poverty, creates sustainable economies, lessens and counteracts environmental degradation, and meets an existing market demand. You can read more about it here.

The companies profiled above satisfy these parameters to varying degrees, but to put it even more simply, they allow me to answer that most-important question, who made my clothes? Because these companies have transparent supply chains, I know who made my favorite alpaca scarf, I know that she was fairly compensated for her work, and I even know that she plans to major in a technical field and own her own home. These are purchases I can feel good about, and companies that I am happy to support.

But these companies are the exception, not the rule. A lot of items in my closet come from companies like BCBG. You know, the one with the dramatic question mark; the one that reads UNKNOWN. I wish I could tell you that whoever made my favorite wool coat in China wasn't a slave laborer or under the age of 14, but all I can really do is make assumptions about what working conditions are like in these factories based on vague corporate social responsibly statements.

In some cases, working conditions might be fair, and even enable employees to support their families, rise from poverty, and live better lives than their parents. NPR's Planet Money Makes a T-Shirt has a beautifully nuanced video that follows garment workers in India and Columbia and illustrates how wildly wages, working conditions, and and social mobility can vary from country to country.
 
And then of course, we have Rena Plaza. Which makes all this not-knowing or kind-of knowing not ok.

And remember, ethical fashion is more than simply not doing harm, it's about making people's lives better. So even if a company claims it doesn't condone slave or child labor, or pollute the environment all that much, it's not inherently ethical. I'd rather know that my purchases are actively making the world just a little more fair.

So, who gets my money?

As Jess of Notes From a Thoughtful Life points out, there's no wrong or right way to approach ethical shopping. Which companies you decide to support will depend on the ethical issues you feel most strongly about. If you're vegan or vegetarian, you might want to focus on cruelty-free or animal-free products. If you're keen on bringing manufacturing back to the United States, you might want to buy American-made. If you're foremost an environmentalist, you'll probably prioritize brands that have zero-waste policies or minimal environmental impact. Ideally, an ethical fashion brand will have several ethical traits, but my focus had always been on humans (how can I make sure my purchases didn't hurt anyone along the way?). So I usually prioritize fair trade or made in the USA options over something that's simply vegan or "eco-friendly."

As I mentioned in my previous post, fashion is a big part of our identity, and inherently emotional. Clothes can mean joy, pride, celebration, dignity, and self-expression. They can mean enough money to feed your family, and prosperity for your community. They can also mean shame, struggle, abuse,  even death. So when we vote with our dollars, let’s vote for joy.


I'll be following up with two more posts: one that explores the definition of "ethical" more deeply, and another that talks about how to make your sewing practice more sustainable. In the meantime, tell me about your own experiences with ethical shopping in the comments. What are the biggest hurdles you face when making more conscientious choices?