This year, for Slow Fashion October, I’m not buying any new clothes. If my two-month stint with a capsule wardrobe taught me anything, it was that I have more than enough clothes.
And, I’m not really planning on making any clothes either. If I do make a garment, it will actually be to revisit an unfinished sweater that’s been in hibernation for more than six months. One of the hardest things for me to realize is that I don’t really like clothes - at least not right now. I love textiles. I love working with my hands to make textiles. But when it comes to fashion, lately I’ve struggled to get excited. There are lots of reasons why I don’t get pumped up about fashion. For one thing, there’s the fatigue of fashion seasons changing faster and faster than ever before. But my tastes and what fits my body change at a much slower pace. There’s a host of side effects associated with fast fashion, too. Clothes aren’t made to last anymore. I walked into a discount clothing store the other day, and the clothes looked like they’d skipped being new and were already on the racks of a thrift store – a few gems, but most already sad and worn-out looking. Garment construction is shoddy, not because of a lack of skill of the people who make them, but because the lack of time and resources made available to them in their work. Speaking of garment workers, there often forced to work in unsafe conditions, and for less than a living wage. All so wealthy people can buy cheap clothes though never wear. And, even those of us who don’t count ourselves as wealthy have far more resources than most of the people who make our clothing. Then there’s the environmental impact of all those clothes. The resources it takes to make the fabrics, to dye them, and transport them around the world are mind-boggling. Again, so people can wear a garment just a few times before trends change. The whole industry seems to have escalated in the past few years, an arms race where everyone competes to do it faster and cheaper and make more profit. Except no one is winning this race. Everyone loses, from the people who make the clothes, to the companies selling them, to the consumers, to the people left to deal with the waste when the consumers throw away the clothes. It’s been talked about before, but it bears repeating – Slow Fashion October isn’t about beating ourselves up over our past choices, or about making people feel bad about the clothes they purchase. It’s about mindfulness. It’s something I struggle with immensely, as I have a tendency to agonize over many things. The idea that a human being might have suffered for the shirt on my back is a difficult burden to bear. This year, I’ve realized that my closet has more than enough clothes in it, and that I don’t want to add anything to it just now. I’ve realized that I don’t want the responsibility of caring for more clothes, especially if I’m unsure of their provenance. I’ve realized that instead of getting caught up in a frenzy (which I find very easy to do), it would be better for me to relax about my wardrobe, keep things simple, and really stop to think about what slow fashion means in my life. I know I’ll enjoy seeing the creative outpouring that is Slow Fashion October. If you haven’t heard about Slow Fashion October, be sure to check it out. A more detailed explanation of the whole shebang can be found here, or you can check out the hashtag #slowfashionoctober on Instagram. This year I had a massive lifestyle change - I left my job as an attorney to travel the country and market my family business. We packed up our house, put most things in storage, and loaded everything else into our travel trailer. When we set out on our trip, we planned for it to last 3 to 4 months. Road weary at the two month mark, we called it quits, found a new house in a new town, and moved everything out of our storage unit and into our new house. As we were packing up to leave, we were amazed and a little bit overwhelmed by the amount of stuff we’d managed to accumulate. Loads of it went to charity, friends, and as a last resort, the dump. Still, we managed to fill up the largest storage unit we could find. The last “thing” to go in was my car, which we squeezed in with just inches to spare. Then we set off on our journey with the things we thought we’d need for the next few months. Living in such tight quarters for two months definitely changed my perspective on things. With less square footage to live in, I was more motivated to keep things as clean as possible. Nothing was purchased unless it had an immediate use - and a place to go. We bought less food, and wasted less food as a result.
Our closets were no exception. We set out with about a week’s worth of clothes. Here’s my list:
Along the way, I found I had a need for a hat, and ended up knitting two. Besides the hand knits and winter coat, everything I brought with me was machine washable. I carefully selected clothes that could be mixed, matched, and layered to create different looks, and I distilled down my jewelry selections to the most essential (but not too valuable) pieces. In short, I went minimalist. And besides a couple of times when we drew near to laundry day, I didn’t miss the clothes I’d left behind. When we found a new house and moved everything out of storage, I realized I could spend hours washing and putting away dishes, but after three days, most of my clothes were on a pile on the floor. I didn’t mind dusting furniture, or unpacking box after box of books, or putting together my loom, but five minutes of putting away clothes bored me to tears. Finally (when there wasn’t much else to do), I put away my clothes. I weeded out a bunch of things that I don’t want or need any more, and kept the rest. I don’t have to dress professionally anymore, but I kept a small professional wardrobe just in case. I’d like to say that my wardrobe has been distilled down to the ultramodern essential classics, but it’s really more of a jumble. I’m okay with that, though, because I realized that I’m more interested in the process of making textiles than fashion itself. And that’s a valuable takeaway. So this Slow Fashion October, I’m not planning on making any new clothes. This year, I’m going to focus on things beyond my closet. I’ll celebrate what I already have, and enjoy absorbing what other people make this year. If you haven’t heard about Slow Fashion October, be sure to check it out. A more detailed explanation of the whole shebang can be found here, or you can check out the hashtag #slowfashionoctober on Instagram. Well, I’ll admit I’ve fallen off the blogging train yet again. Traveling was fun, but left significantly less time for fiber art than I’d thought. We’ve settled down now, and there’s lots to unpack, both physically and mentally. Happily, making is back at center stage of my life, and I can’t think of a better way to get back to blogging than jumping in to Slow Fashion October.
Slow Fashion October was such an incredible experience last year, that I’ve actually been thinking about it all year long. Here’s what I had to say last year: Gearing Up for Slow Fashion October Slow Fashion October Is Here! Slow Fashion October: Less is More Slow Fashion October: Love Slow Fashion October: Worn Slow Fashion October: Known My goals for making this Slow Fashion October actually don’t really revolve around clothes, though they do revolve around textiles. I’ll talk about this more in my next post, but I’ve come to realize that my clothes aren’t the most important textiles in my life right now. Instead, I’m tackling the concept of fiber waste in another closet in my house: the linen closet. If you haven’t heard about Slow Fashion October, be sure to check it out. A more detailed explanation of the whole shebang can be found here, or you can check out the hashtag #slowfashionoctober on Instagram. |
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