Climate grief, clothing, and the lessons we need to learn from history

“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

Fashioned From Nature: Designing a Sustainable Future

Fashioned from Nature at the V&A is an exhibition designed to encourage debate and raise awareness about the complex, uneasy and unequal relationship between fashion and the natural world, without preaching or causing feelings of guilt. Fashion takes inspiration from nature but also exploits it, and as the fashion industry has grown rapidly in scale since the Industrial Revolution it has become a global problem that is impossible to ignore.

Senior Curator Edwina Ehrman’s introduction to the Fashioned From Nature: Designing a Sustainable Future conference gave some fascinating insights into the design of the exhibition and also set the tone for the rest of the day: fashion has some hard truths to face up to but it is also a space for experimentation, innovation and beauty.

The first speaker was Professor Dilys Williams, Director of the Centre for Sustainable Fashion. She posed questions that challenged the audience to think about our intentions when we choose our clothes and dress ourselves. If our ability to project our identity through our clothes is an identifier of being human (no other species can alter their appearance in this way), what does that say about our relationship with nature? For four hundred years humans have believed that we could change or control nature, but the truth is that we are a part of nature, not separate from it. The current fashion system relies on inequality, and the imbalance between what we take from and what we give back to nature.

The Centre for Sustainable Fashion encourages the fashion creatives of the future to look at the fashion industry through different lenses, considering power, culture, nature and society. Rather than putting economy before ecology, we need to work towards an era of interdependence, using our imaginations to construct new identities which are more in sync with the world around us.

Kathy Gomez, the Vice President of Innovation at Nike, talked about the new techniques the brand is pioneering to achieve their goal of increasing sales while dramatically reducing their environmental impact. An interesting fact I’ve noticed during the time I’ve been writing this blog and looking into sustainable fashion is that brands that run their own factories have many more opportunities to change and improve their practices. For instance, the plastic used to make the air soles for Nike trainers can be recycled and reused in-house because Nike own and operate the factories.

Journalist and vegan fashion advocate Bel Jacobs was joined by director of sustainability at Stella McCartney Claire Bergkamp for a conversation about the search for alternatives to animal products for the fashion industry. Even as an emerging designer, Stella McCartney was adamant that she did not want to use leather, so from the start the brand had innovation at its core. Not wanting to offer products that were an inferior quality, collaborations with traditional manufacturers that had moved with the times to stay in business were often the answer when it came to finding artisans to work with new materials. The search for new materials has led to a collaboration with Bolt Threads, who make lab-grown spider silk and mycelium leather, and the brand has embraced the opportunities for creativity and change that come with pioneering the use of new fibres.

After lunch (an opportunity to sit in the V&A garden and digest everything I’d just heard) the afternoon’s presentations began with founder and director Nina Marenzi and curator and consultant Amanda Johnson from The Sustainable Angle, a not-for-profit that aims to connect the makers of sustainable textiles with buyers from the fashion industry. They run the Future Fabrics Expo, which showcases thousands of samples of new and innovative materials (you can read more about my trip to the Future Fabrics Expo in this blog post). Many of their most successful fabrics use post-consumer waste from a variety of industries to create fabrics that are a great substitute for their cruel or polluting “natural” alternatives. Leather is being replaced by some brands with Pinatex, made from pineapple fibre, or Frumat, made from apple pulp. Malai is made from coconut water waste, grown onto a banana fibre base, while post-consumer plastic bottles can be made into a synthetic down substitute for jackets which feels and behaves just like the real thing.

Oya Barlas Bingul from Lenzing gave us an overview of the company’s latest sustainable textile innovation: Refibra. Taking cotton waste from the manufacturing process and combining it with lyocell creates a natural fibre which reduces both  textile waste and the need for ever-increasing quantities of raw materials. Lenzing maintains a traceable and transparent supply chain for their fabrics, viewing innovation as a necessity: “don’t settle for the way things are, push for the way things could be”.

Dyeing is a hugely impactful part of the garment-making process, responsible for large-scale water pollution in countries like Bangladesh, but Orr Yarkoni, founder of Colourifix, had some good news about revolutionary sustainable processes that are currently being developed. Colourifix’s new technology will first ferment synthesised pigments from naturally occurring colours before the dyeing process begins, which improves the absorption of the dye by the textile fibres. This new technology will be compatible with existing dyeing infrastructure, and can be used on yarn, fabric or garments. It also successfully dyes both synthetic and natural fibres, unlike many other dyes.

PhD researcher Miriam Ribul is interested in fashion on a molecular level, investigating better fabrication models for an already abundant source of plant-based textile waste: cellulose. In the past, cellulose could only be made into fabric using toxic chemicals, but new technology is making cellulose regeneration a cleaner and safer process. One key problem that limits current textile recycling is the lack of information about what chemicals have been used to dye or treat the fabrics, and if the garment label has been removed or damaged even the information about the mixture of fibres in a garment is lost. DNAture material coding would embed this information in the fibres themselves, so a quick glance under UV light and a microscope would provide all the relevant information about the garment.

Carry Somers, co-founder of Fashion Revolution, sat down with Amy Powney from Mother of Pearl to bring fashion back to the personal. The two women spoke about the ways in which their unconventional upbringings had paved the way for a career in sustainable fashion: living off-grid meant they didn’t take modern conveniences for granted. A parental lack of concern about her street cred at school led Amy to obsess about saving up for the latest trends, and she remembered every detail about these precious passports to teenage acceptance. Being detail-oriented meant that Amy wouldn’t accept a lack of knowledge when it came to starting her own label, and her search for information took her all the way to South America. Interestingly, sourcing a collection from scratch rather than relying on existing supply chains has reduced the costs of manufacturing this collection, rather than increasing them.

From the molecular to the global, there are positive changes to be made at every level of the fashion industry. We can learn from the past, as the Fashioned From Nature exhibition shows us, and we can overcome the current problems in the industry by learning from one another and collaborating, fashioning the identities that will shape a better future.

You can also read my review of the Fashioned From Nature exhibition here, or catch it at the V&A until January 2019.

Fashioned From Nature at the V&A

The history of fashion is deeply personal, with cherished garments surviving for centuries to give us a unique glimpse of someone’s style; a real-life manifestation of high-fashion garments that look impossible, or at the very least highly improbable, if you study contemporary cartoons. It is also global, a complex network of threads that have connected continents along trade routes and supply chains for millennia. It is a history of the search for novelty as well as practicality, of brutality as well as beauty.

Fashioned from Nature at the V&A looks at the complexity of the history of fashion through its relationship with the natural world, how inspiration and exploitation have become two sides of the same coin, and how we can break away from the bad practices that make fashion the second most polluting industry in the world.

The exhibition opens with an exploration of the range of materials that people have used for clothing over the centuries. Some materials that we would associate with years past, like flax (traditionally grown in Northern Europe and spun into linen), are enjoying a revival as we start to look for fibres that require less water for growing and processing. Other materials like baleen (from the keratin plates in a whale’s mouth that enable them to sift microscopic plankton from sea water) which was used for corset boning have thankfully been replaced by modern alternatives like flexible steel, although not before whales were hunted almost to extinction.

The exhibition doesn’t shy away from presenting the problematic past of some of our favourite fabrics; the history of cotton cannot be separated from the history of slavery in the U.S, with cotton plantations in the southern states reliant on slave labour. Wealthy mill owners in the U.K. also benefited from cheap raw materials from our occupation of India, and the exploitation of poorly-treated factory workers during the Industrial Revolution.

We are also shown the ways in which we have plundered the natural world, desperate to capture some of its beauty for ourselves. From the birds of paradise killed and stuffed to adorn accessories, to the wild animals hunted for their fur, and even the silk moth larvae that make one of our favourite luxury fabrics. Iridescent beetle wings decorate diaphanous muslin dresses, they were sought-after and widely used despite their exotic provenance because they were “cheaper and more accessible than an emerald or a ruby” according to a curator from the Natural History Museum in a video that accompanies the exhibition.

The exhibition isn’t all doom and gloom though; there are beautiful examples of how the natural world has inspired more sustainable homages. Exquisite embroidery adorns jackets and waistcoats, and the popularity of bold prints is illustrated by 17th and 18th century textiles, as well as 21st century designer gowns. There are also historical examples of fabrics I’d assumed were modern innovations: I love Pinatex, a faux leather made from pineapple fibre, as a material for shoes, but the exhibition features a dress from the 1830s made from a pineapple fibre that is woven to resemble a fine cotton lawn.

As well as showcasing natural materials and textiles, Fashioned From Nature reveals the unforeseen side-effects of trying to come up with man-made substitutes: the water pollution and chemical poisoning that began on a large scale with the invention of aniline dyes in the 1850s, and continues to this day. It also demonstrates the global nature of the fashion industry by tracking the production of garments from raw materials to shop floor, and the global devastation that the fashion industry can cause, from deforestation to the draining of the Aral Sea.

The exhibition strikes a hopeful note with inspiring examples of fashion innovation that combine great design with thoughtful production. A vast array of fashion textiles, from specially moulded sneaker parts to knitting yarn, can be made from reclaimed fabric waste. Elsewhere, designers are turning other kinds of post-consumer waste into high fashion, a great example being a strikingly chic Salvatore Ferragamo ensemble made a fabric derived from citrus fibre.  Other design collectives are synthesising brand new materials from organic sources, like Bolt Threads bio-engineered “spider silk” and mushroom leather.

Knitting and crochet have always been great ways of producing zero-waste clothing, and designers Katie Jones and Unmade eliminate wasteful overproduction by making their knitwear to order. Fashioned From Nature makes it clear to us that the apparent over abundance of clothing is an illusion that cannot be maintained forever, given the looming spectre of climate change and irreversible environmental degradation. However, the exhibition never suggests that this means we have to give up our love of clothes, or our desire for beautiful things.

My favourite piece in the exhibition was the most beautiful piece of zero-waste clothing I have ever seen. Made during World War Two from strips of salvaged parachute silk, this exquisitely delicate blouse is made from thin strips of fabric, embroidered together to create a fitted shape. Its style is a tantalising mix of a demure shape and daringly sheer fabric, and as I stared at it my imagination ran away with me and I started thinking about the woman who made it. Was she making it for a special occasion, waiting for a sweetheart to return? Was she having to do this painstaking work by poor light in the evenings, tired out from war work? Creating something so soft and light from an object that was part of the destructive machinery of war is the best example I can think of for the transformative power of fashion; we all have to make sure we use this power for good.