Confessions of a Teenage Fashionista

I tend to become invested in critical societal and environmental issues only to realize that my commitment rarely extends beyond good intentions. Fast fashion was the first—and admittedly only—problem I have remained committed to mending. It all started with the HBO documentary I watched a little over a year ago, Brandy Hellville & The Cult of Fast Fashion.

The film exposed Brandy Melville, the incredibly popular teen clothing store, revealing its CEO’s corrupt and predatory ways, its horrifying production methods, and consequently, the destruction of our planet.

Immediately after watching, I felt insurmountable guilt. How could I have supported this? I thought of all the people suffering: those crafting the products and those disposing of them. I hadn’t stopped to think about a single one of them. I vowed to stop buying from Brandy Melville. I also explained to anyone willing to listen that I would not stop wearing the items I already owned; if I were to throw them away, it would add to the environmental impact stemming from fast fashion companies like Brandy Melville.

Fast fashion is a term coined by The New York Times in the ‘90s to describe Zara’s appalling production tendencies. They were the first company to move from design to production in two weeks, whereas, typically, sustainable fashion moves between these stages in six months to a year. Hence, the fast in fast fashion.

As a result of the rapid-fire production, these items of clothing usually end up being worn between seven and ten times before they start to deteriorate. To anyone willing to take 20 seconds out of their day to do a quick Google search, the facts are there. An analysis done by Business Insider states that 10 percent of the world’s carbon emissions are a result of the fashion industry. In addition, roughly 85 percent of textiles are discarded each year.

I’m not here to boast about how ethically and environmentally aware I am; in fact, I’m here to argue the exact opposite. Although I have become increasingly more aware of how our everyday actions are affecting the environment, I still find myself consuming fast fashion. I may have cut Brandy Melville out of my life, but I am still frequently sucked in by companies like Edikted and Zara.

A few months ago, my friend gave me a gift card to a brand that is infamously known for its horrendous production methods and trendy clothes: Edikted. I found myself saying things like “Well, it’s a gift, so I really should use it” in order to push past the ethical part of my mind that was shrieking at the top of its lungs. The fact that it was a gift felt like a good excuse, and I certainly didn’t feel too bad when that package showed up at my door. Worst of all, the sweater I’m wearing right now, as I sit here and type—a pink and white striped pullover—came in that package. A sweater crafted by dozens of people, all of whom are paid less than a living wage.

While walking through Columbus Circle, I saw someone whose consciously curated streetwear style caught my attention. Mac M., a grad student in their mid-twenties from Queens, NY, expressed an interest in the concept “Reduce, Reuse, Recycle.” Mac was talking about individual consumers, but big companies could use this concept, too, by taking old or damaged pieces and reusing them in their next design. Mac, clad in an oversized pink and white pinstriped shirt and rocking a grown-out mullet, gave some sustainable fashion pointers, such as learning to knit, embroider, sew, or trade clothing with friends. “The cycle of trends and the cycle of fashion moves so quickly,” Mac said, “so why even join it?”

Their words displayed not only the sentiment of not succumbing to trends, but also being your own person. “What is popular is not going to last forever,” Mac said. “Fast fashion is not the key to becoming an individual, in terms of style.” To me, Mac’s words depicted how we, as a society, have mindlessly followed trends, and visibly turned into variations on a theme due to things like fast fashion. My conversation with Mac was refreshing in comparison to the many that I have had with my peers. They usually promote fast fashion, whether intentionally or as a result of the marketing and affordability that make fast fashion an easy thing to indulge in. The majority of fast fashion is consumed by Gen Z.

Emma Reisch ‘29 4 Confessions of a Teenage Fashionista cont’d. Setting aside the fact that brands target people of this generation, Gen Z makes up the largest percentage of fast fashion patrons because our laziness has been heightened and our attention spans have shrunk to nothingness. We choose not to do the research on what we’re buying.

A 2015 study by Microsoft states that in the year 2000, the attention span of teenagers and young adults averaged 12 seconds. In 2015, teens and young adults had an attention span of 8 seconds. In less than two decades, the average attention span amongst young people had decreased by 33 percent. The generational norms are those of people who look for the quickest route. We watch 30-second clips instead of a film to entertain ourselves, and we tend to choose the unhealthy or damaging option just because it’s quicker. The food we eat and the clothes we buy are fast, cheap, and usually bad for us, but we don’t care because it’s quick.

Fast fashion reflects what is wrong with society. It tends to look great from a vanity perspective, but if you stop to think about it, is it really that great? It’s destroying our planet and leaving people in developing countries knee-deep in a pile of the outfits we wore for a month. It’s ruining society, too; it’s feeding into consumerism and making us believe that old is bad and new is good.

But do we stop, even though we know it’s wrong?

No. It’s just so easy.