“Climate grief” and “eco-anxiety” might simply sound like buzzwords, borne out of a sudden awareness of the perilous state of the planet thanks to Extinction Rebellion or David Attenborough’s Blue Planet 2, but for me they evoke a strange sense of comfort. Like the diagnosis of a chronic condition, naming what ails you might not bring a cure, or even relief, but it does bring a certainty, a confirmation that you are not alone, and (hopefully) guidance on how to manage your condition.
These aren’t twenty-first century problems either, the preserve of “snowflakes” who don’t have anything better to worry about. Philosopher Jeremy Bentham was concerned about animal welfare back in the 1780s, emphasising the need to recognise the fact that animals can suffer, and to treat them accordingly. JRR Tolkien experienced a profound sense of distress at the industrialisation of the countryside around his childhood home, and this feeling threads itself throughout the Lord of the Rings trilogy. And in the 19th Century, the excesses of the fashion industry led to the onset of eco anxiety and, eventually, attempts to atone for our actions.
By the 1850s, the Industrial Revolution had increased the speed and volume of clothing production, and Britain’s colonialist invasion of other countries had opened up rich new sources of materials. Not content with exploiting our fellow humans, we also began to exploit the natural world on a much larger scale. Iridescent jewel beetles were shipped back from British owned slave plantations along with the cotton to make the dresses their brightly-coloured wings would adorn. Whole hummingbirds and birds of paradise were stuffed and posed on hats and fans. Sealskin was transformed from a useful fabric worn by the indigenous people who lived in close proximity to seals to a sought-after fashion accessory.
Our desire for exotic fashions had already had a noticeable effect on wildlife. Beaver fur had been popular for hat-making for several centuries, leaving the European beaver population decimated. Thanks to changes in fashions and construction methods, baleen or “whalebone” was being phased out as a boning for corsets, but coastal areas remained conspicuously whale-free.
In his book Wild Ones, Jon Mooallam talks about “shifting baseline syndrome”: the natural world we grow up with is the one we regard as normal, and we find it hard to imagine the abundance of wildlife that previous generations would have taken for granted.
However it is possible to radically change perspectives within a lifetime. William Temple Horniday was a hunter and taxidermist who became a fierce advocate for animal conservation, once he realised that the best way to preserve animals for future generations was alive in their natural habitat rather than stuffed in a museum.
Horniday wrote an impassioned letter to the New York Times in 1913, demanding an end to the use of feathers in fashion. “The whole matter is up to the women,” he wrote. “On their heads is the blood of the slaughtered innocents.” I think it’s important to acknowledge the sexism at work here - Horniday apportioned no blame to the hunters, feather merchants and dealers who profited from the industry and supplied the demand. This is still how criticism of the fashion industry plays out today; commentators criticise young women as vain and frivolous while ignoring the multinational companies raking in huge profits and exploiting a largely female workforce. Women in the 19th Century were instrumental in changing the public’s opinion on exotic furs and feathers; they were the founders of the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds in Britain, and the Audubon Society in the US. Their campaigns ultimately brought about laws banning or restricting the sale of certain pelts and plumes for the fashion industry.
Horniday felt frustrated by the limits of his activism: “I tried to inject the courage into the hearts of men, but today I think that speaking generally, civilised man is an unmitigated ass.” I can’t help but empathise with that statement. Mooallam puts Horniday’s frustration into context, offering hope to all environmental activists: “Like all of us, his imagination was hopelessly trapped in its own moment, its own lifetime. He could only see the world through the tiny keyhole of the present.”
Despite the excellent work done by animal rights charities for over a hundred years, our conservation efforts have not kept pace with our voracious appetite for more clothes, and our relentless desire for new things. We’re still killing animals for clothes, but we are also making synthetic fabrics from their eons-old compressed bodies. We are destroying natural habitats to farm fashion, and our careless production methods mean that we are polluting the planet for generations to come.
The fashion industry is more vast, complex and environmentally devastating than anyone at a previous point in history could have imagined. Yet we all have the opportunity to be, as Mooallam puts it, a tiny counterweight to that shifting baseline. Fast fashion in its current juggernaut state didn’t exist 25 years ago. The industry doesn’t have to be like this.
In the spirit of acknowledging my climate grief, I went along to Extinction Rebellion’s grief procession on a rainy Saturday in October. I put together a Victorian-style mourning outfit, complete with exotic bird puppet/umbrella. I find the Victorian cult of mourning quite fascinating, especially as I don’t think we always do a great job of dealing with grief in the present day. Although I disagree with the idea of imposing a compulsory dress code on anyone, being able to signal emotion through the wearing of a certain colour of clothing felt oddly freeing. I didn’t have to explain my grief or my anxiety to anyone, and being surrounded by so many other people who felt the same way gave me a lot of strength and reassurance. I’m still working on not feeling overwhelmed by my emotions around climate breakdown, but looking back through history has helped me see the potential for hope.
The podcast 99% Invisible features an episode called “Wild Ones Live”, which features Jon Mooallam reading excerpts from his book with musical accompaniment. I find it tremendously reassuring to listen to, it’s one of the few things that can always soothe my eco-anxiety.
Exhibition photos taken at the V&A’s Fashioned From Nature
My pleasure to read your blog about fashion. This is really impressive.
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