Last month I counted the clothes in my wardrobe and found more than a dozen items I had worn only once or twice. Some still had their price tags attached. I was not proud of the discovery, but I suspect I am not unusual. Over the past few decades, clothing has become so cheap and so quickly replaced that many of us now treat it almost as a disposable product. This is the world of fast fashion, and its true price is far higher than the figure on the label.
The business model is simple. Instead of releasing a few collections a year, many retailers now introduce new designs every few weeks, copying the latest trends and producing them at very low cost. Shoppers are encouraged to return again and again, afraid of missing out. The result is that people buy more clothes than ever before while wearing each item fewer times.
The environmental cost begins long before a garment reaches the shop. Growing cotton requires large quantities of water, often in regions where water is already scarce. Many cheap clothes, however, are not made of cotton at all but of polyester, a fabric produced from oil. Every time these synthetic clothes are washed, they shed tiny plastic fibres that can pass through water treatment systems and end up in rivers and oceans. And when we tire of them, a large proportion are thrown away, ending up in landfill sites or being burned rather than reused.
There is a human cost too. To keep prices low, much clothing is manufactured in countries where wages are low and working conditions can be poor. The people who sew our clothes often work long hours for very little money. When we pay surprisingly little for a shirt, it is worth asking who paid the difference.
Defenders of fast fashion make a fair point: cheap clothing allows families with limited budgets to dress well, and the industry provides millions of jobs. I do not believe the answer is to make clothes unaffordable or to shame people who buy them. The problem is not that clothing is accessible, but that we have been taught to see it as worthless.
Fortunately, the solutions are within reach of almost everyone. We can buy fewer items and choose ones that will last. We can repair a torn seam instead of throwing a garment away, swap clothes with friends, or shop second-hand. Before buying anything new, I now ask myself a simple question: will I wear this at least thirty times? Surprisingly often, the honest answer is no, and the item goes back on the rail.