Fashion Revolution Week 2020: Wo Made My Clothes?

Clothing is big business. The garment industry directly and indirectly employs over 300 million people worldwide, and high street fashion has turned a handful of men into billionaires, knocking oligarchs and royalty off the top of the Forbes Rich List. It’s going to take a lot of consumer pressure to change the industry when the people at the top have such a vested interest in the status quo, but for the survival and safety of so many others, we have to try our hardest.

Fashion Revolution’s Who Made My Clothes? campaign is a simple and non-threatening way to become an activist - snap a picture of your favourite high street garment with the label showing, and post it on social media, tagging the brand and using the hashtag #whomademyclothes. As the campaign has grown year on year, brands are gradually becoming more transparent, disclosing some (but not yet all) of their suppliers. This transparency is important; it makes it harder for brands to deny responsibility if there is an accident at the factory or workers report mistreatment, while making it easier for auditors or NGOs to link bad practice with specific brands. Seeing replies from the more reputable and ethical brands (usually showing garment workers holding a sign reading “I Made Your Clothes”) helps to remind all of us that there are humans, not machines, making every piece of clothing we buy.

Earlier this year I gave a talk to a conference of public health registrars about the impact of the garment industry on global public health. I had read out a lot of statistics, big numbers and generalisations and I wanted to bring home the reality of the life of a garment worker to my audience. The next two paragraphs are from my talk, I hope they are a good indicator of why this campaign is so important.

The documentaries “China Blue” and “The True Cost” both follow a garment worker and tell her story. While 23-year-old Shima’s story is shocking, the mundane yet punishing schedule that makes up the working life of 16-year-old Jasmine seems equally unimaginable to those of us used to the European Working Time Directive. Jasmine has left her rural home for the Lifeng factory in Canton. Her working day starts at 8am and ends at 7pm… and then the compulsory overtime begins. This can last until 2 or 3am, and then it’s back to the dormitory she shares with eleven other girls. This is also where they eat their meals, as the factory does not have a canteen. It does deduct room and board from its workers, but don’t worry, each dorm room has its own cold tap! Best not to drink too much water though, as only two bathroom breaks are permitted per shift. Workers at the Lifeng factory work seven days a week, often for months at a time to fulfill overseas orders. To keep herself awake during 18 hour shifts, Jasmine and her friends clip their eyelids open with clothes pegs. Supervisors are issued with long screwdrivers to poke workers who look like they are falling asleep. The factory owner is incensed at the insinuation that he treats his workers harshly - “we give them a free snack at midnight!” He huffs indignantly. When Jasmine goes to collect her first paycheck, several weeks late, she discovers it is being kept as a “deposit”, to deter her from leaving. As the factory shuts down temporarily for New Year, many of the workers head home to see their families, but not Jasmine - she cannot afford the train fare. 

Shima lives in Bangladesh and works in a garment factory in Dhaka. Along with some of her coworkers, she formed a union and brought a list of demands to the factory owners. Later that day, she and her fellow organisers were beaten up by men hired by her bosses at the factory. Shima has a young daughter, Nadia, but in the slum near the garment district, the only place Shima can afford to live, there is nowhere for Nadia to go to school. Shima makes the decision to take Nadia back to the village where she used to live. Surrounded by friends and relatives, Nadia can get an education and won’t be alone, but Shima will only be able to visit her once or twice a year. Shima hopes that her decision will mean a future for Nadia that doesn’t involve garment work, and she gives a tearful interview to camera, saying “there is no limit to the struggle of Bangladeshi workers… I believe these clothes are produced by our blood.”

Garment workers face worsening conditions as big brands cancel or refuse to pay for orders due to COVID-19, forcing factories to close. Many of these orders have already been made and even shipped, leaving factories in low-income countries out of pocket, as the factory owners pay the wages of the workers and for the fabric. Indulge me for a moment - scroll back up to the top of this blog post and read the first paragraph again. Furious? You should be! You can sign a petition urging brands to pay up here, or urge brands to pay their suppliers as soon as possible using the hashtag #PayUp. You can also use Fashion Revolution’s template letter to express your concern - just enter the name of the brand you want to contact and sign with your name and email, activism has never been easier!

I don’t buy clothes from the high street any more, but I still have plenty of clothes in my wardrobe from brands that I believe have questions to answer. I’ll be asking #whomademyclothes throughout the day on Twitter, and gently reminding brands not to forget to pay their suppliers for all that fast fashion they have ordered. Join me, and join the Fashion Revolution!

It's time to ask "Who Made My Merchandise?"

In the excellent costume collection at Worthing Museum in West Sussex there is a patchwork maxi skirt from the 1960s. Interspersed between delicate floral prints in apple green and buttercup yellow, there are a couple of plain rose pink panels, and on one of these the skirt’s owner has embroidered Leonard Cohen in a flowing script reminiscent of the “best handwriting” that used to be taught in schools. 

I wanted to ask the original owner so many questions - was the embroidery a spur-of-the-moment decision, or carefully planned? Was it done specifically for a certain festival or concert, or just as a general declaration of loyalty to, or love for, a favourite musician? I was intrigued by the juxtaposition of the sunny, cheerful nature of the ditsy floral prints, and the emotional intensity that I associate with Leonard Cohen songs. If I was to choose an article of clothing to represent the mood that Leonard Cohen songs evoke in me, it would not be this skirt. Was its owner finding different meanings and feelings in this shared experience of popular culture? Or was the juxtaposition deliberate, drawing attention to the fact that this brightly dressed young woman also felt intense emotions but didn’t want them to interfere with her aesthetic? 

At a time when we can buy merchandise to advertise our love of almost any musician, film, TV show or musical, customised clothing proclaiming our pop culture allegiances is becoming a cultural artefact, more likely to be found in a museum collection than at a concert or a convention. 

Mass-produced merchandise has invented its own ways of offering a personalised experience to the buyer. Band tour t-shirts are a covetable souvenir, a way to say “I was here, I experienced this particular moment with my idol”. Fan-designed t-shirts, often a mash-up of different beloved sci-fi stories, are a wearable in-joke, a way of finding your tribe, the people who unapologetically love what you love. 

But, like everything fun in life, your fave is (probably) problematic. We are getting used to asking fashion brands “Who made my clothes?” but are we asking the same questions of wearable merchandise? We are often drawn to stories because they have a message that resonates with us; they show us a way of being in the world that feels important to explore. At a time of international political turmoil, they help to realign our moral compasses, teaching us courage, compassion and strength. 

And yet, a cultural phenomenon that urges us to “do what is right, not what is easy” partners with a fast fashion brand to sell as much cheap, sweatshop-made merchandise as possible. I understand the argument that merchandise for books and films that are so meaningful for so many people should be widely available and affordable. But when an Isle-of-Wight based start-up, Teemill, is able to make affordable print-on-demand merch using natural inks and ethically sourced t-shirts with a 24hr turnaround, while running a training programme for local young people, shouldn’t some of the richest people in the world and Hollywood mega-corporations be able to do the same thing? 

I’m always excited when I’m able to buy a piece of ethical merchandise. The ongoing collaboration between the Star Wars franchise and sustainable shoe brand Po-Zu has resulted in me owning three pairs of incredibly comfortable shoes while also letting me wear a subtle logo of something I’ve loved since I was a teenager. I was also able to use “but it’s made from recycled materials!” as an excuse to buy a Hamilton tote, despite the fact that I already own approximately 50 tote bags. 

When The 1975 announced that they were going to start a recycling scheme for the t-shirts they have sold to fans, re-printing deadstock t-shirts rather than making new for each tour, a predictable criticism was thrown at them - wasn’t it hypocritical to be tackling t-shirts when they were flying to international tour dates? By that criticism, all music, TV, film and theatre is hugely environmentally damaging and we shouldn’t consume any culture at all. I have looked at the way that costume departments in film and TV are grappling with their environmental impact in a previous post, and for full disclosure I’ll point out that my day job is within this industry and I don’t want to be made jobless!  I think all forms of the arts are crucial to a healthy, functioning democracy as they give us ways to process our feelings, a window into the experiences of others and lightness and beauty in dark times. Give us bread, but give us roses too.

But at a time when we are grappling with the need to engage with the world in a fundamentally different way to avoid irreversible climate breakdown, I’d like to gently suggest that the way we engage with pop culture also needs to take on a less passively consumerist and more curious role. I’d love to include hundreds of words here about cosplay, crafts and transformative works, but that might have to be a separate blog post. Buying merchandise is a way that most of us interact with our idols, and I think it’s also a way we can advocate for positive change. Obviously I realise that the main objective of selling merchandise is to make money. But I’d like to suggest that we take inspiration from our heroes and start asking awkward questions of the people who are taking our money. Either that, or grab your embroidery kit, fabric paints or knitting needles and start making your own homages to the things you love.

How to become a Fashion Revolutionary

The fashion industry is vast, complex and opaque. Even if you are concerned about how the clothes you choose can impact people and the planet, it can be daunting or overwhelming to know where to start to equip yourself with the knowledge that will help you make informed choices. Fashion Revolution Week provides an opportunity to join forces with one another and collectively push for change, but if you don’t feel confident about asking tough questions, here’s how you can quietly start your own revolution using just the contents of your wardrobe.

See fast fashion garments as works in progress rather than the finished article

I am a professional dressmaker, and even if I have an exhaustive list of measurements and a mannequin padded to a client’s shape, I’ll still have to make adjustments to the garment I am creating during fittings. Not only is every body unique, but everyone has their own unique feelings about their body, and which parts of it they would rather reveal or conceal. 

One of the things we sacrifice when we choose cheap fashion is fit. A generic sized garment probably won’t fit anyone perfectly, but we can be reluctant to spend money on alterations when they might cost more than the clothes themselves. If you buy enough cheap pairs of trousers, one of them is bound to fit, right? As anyone who has ever reached the end of their tether in a high street fitting room (or at home surrounded by online purchases that all need returning) will know, this doesn’t often work out well. Instead of buying lots of cheap clothes that don’t fit, why not spend some of that money on making sure your clothes fit perfectly? Sewing courses (like the ones run by Sewing Bee producer The Thrifty Stitcher) can teach novice stitchers the basics in a few hours. Alternatively, if sewing isn’t your thing, support a local business by paying a tailor to perfect your wardrobe.

Avoid obsolescence 

The fast fashion cycle relies on ever-changing trends to persuade people that they constantly need to buy new clothes. Magazines that rely on brand advertising will praise a style in their “must have” column one month, only to deride it as “so last season” the next. My dad has an interesting theory about the recent craze for pre-distressed denim: he reckons it is a way to speed up the lifespan of a garment, requiring us to buy more products. Fabric that has been worn down with sandpaper or sprayed with chemicals isn’t going to last as long as pristine new fabric. I think it’s part of the fun of owning clothes to naturally age them by wearing them, and refashioning or mending them as circumstances or personal style dictate. By developing this relationship with my clothes, I see them as valuable belongings rather than disposable items. 

Break the rules

A lot of us end up with clothes we don’t really wear because we feel obliged to buy them, especially for parties, weddings or other formal occasions. If you love having something new to wear that’s fine, but if your wardrobe is filling up with clothes that you have only worn once, you might need to re-think your approach. You can hire contemporary and vintage clothes for a special occasion; a designer label suddenly becomes more affordable when you only want the garment for a weekend. You could also search charity shops in a well-heeled area for other only-worn-once occasion wear.

I’m not a big fan of dress codes, especially when they are designed to discriminate or make people uncomfortable. I have an aversion to high heels but I’ll wear fancy flats with a posh frock, and I think this is an acceptable compromise! It just isn’t worth buying clothes because you think you ought to; your own comfort will give you more confidence than clothes you’ve just bought to conform. I feel more comfortable being overdressed than underdressed, my main concession to practicality being my footwear! Of course, I wouldn’t wear a vintage evening gown to hike up a mountain, but I like wearing a skirt if I’m just going for a stroll. Finding a personal style that means you’re always comfortable is an important step towards buying less clothes that you won’t end up wearing.

Relax and enjoy fashion

I know this is much easier for me to say than for many people to do. Factor in body-shaming and outfit-policing in the media, and “what not to wear” lists, and a purchase that you were looking forward to wearing ends up languishing at the back of the wardrobe for fear it will invite unwanted attention or criticism. I think we all could start to treat each other with more kindness and compassion in general, but we could all examine the snap judgements we make about other people’s outfits. Is it really any of our business if they dress in a way we wouldn’t want to ourselves? 

In its ideal form, fashion is meant to be a form of self-expression, to let the world know who we are, or who we aspire to be. This isn’t possible if we are being sold cheap, ill-fitting garments that don’t make us feel good about ourselves. It’s possible to create radical change if enough of us can break free from this cycle of dissatisfaction and obsolescence. 

Fashion Revolution offers template letters to send to brands and policy makers if you want to start asking Who Made My Clothes but don’t feel that you know enough about the subject, or the right questions to ask. Their website is full of helpful information, including access to their online zines, as well as their Transparency index. This provides information about well-known fashion brands and how much they disclose about their supply chain, so you can make well-informed decisions about where to shop.

I would love to get to a point where I can just enjoy fashion in an uncomplicated way, without having to research every purchase or avoid a lot of shops altogether. We have a long way to go before that happens, but fashion is a creative industry and I am hopeful that enough talented and dedicated people are working hard to make a change. Until that happens, we can all be fashion revolutionaries by rejecting the negative aspects of the industry, supporting people who are making positive changes, and demanding positive changes from the multi-million-pound brands that have the resources to be at the forefront of change rather than lagging behind.

Toxic Threads part 1: four fashion experts reveal the dark side of the industry

On Wednesday 21st February I went to an event organised by The Advaya Initiative: Toxic Threads: The Dark Side of Fashion. Four speakers, Orsola de Castro, Sophie Slater, Dian Jen Lin and Alex Jones gave short presentations on their experience of the fashion industry and why radical change is needed to make the industry forward-looking again. It would be all too easy to get disillusioned by dire environmental predictions or the seemingly insatiable appetite for fast fashion,so I was heartened to hear messages of hope from people who are determined that fashion can, and should, be better.

First up was Orsola de Castro, one of the founders of Fashion Revolution and, in her words, “a recovering fashion designer”. She spoke about the event that spurred her into action: the Rana Plaza factory collapse in Bangladesh in 2013, in which over 1000 people (mostly women) lost their lives. Horrified that young women died to satiate our appetite for fast fashion, she also soon discovered that brands knew very little about the factories where they were producing their clothing. She encourages transparency, not as the definitive solution but as the first step. At the moment, most brands can’t answer “who made my clothes?” and that needs to change.

Fashion Revolution is an open source platform offering free educational materials, with a focus on transparency and social issues. Its aims are to educate consumers about  the fashion industry, but also to change our minds about the way people currently view their clothes. We as consumers aren’t appreciating or loving our clothes, which means they get discarded more quickly. 

The focus of Fashion Revolution’s current campaign is the overproduction and disposability of clothes, which as Orsola emphasised, isn’t just confined to cheap fast fashion chains. Luxury brands throw away as many clothes as high street shops, suggesting that clothes that cost a lot of money to buy have little value to the manufacturers. As consumers, we have the power to change this culture, and a good starting point is to only buy what you love, and pay attention to what is in your wardrobe. Clothing isn’t just an issue for those in the fashion industry, it affects 100% of the population! To Orsola, “sustainable” and “ethical” aren’t helpful words, they suggest something niche when these practices should just be part of the culture.

As someone who uses those words to define what I blog about, that’s really given me food for thought; am I limiting myself to “preaching to the choir”; could I reach a wider audience by using different language?

Next to speak was Sophie Slater, the co-founder of Birdsong London. The brand’s motto is “No Sweatshop, No Photoshop”  and they employ small groups of women with rare skills to make their clothes, from hand-knitters to seamstresses. Their mission is to empower women, from worker to wearer, and many of their makers are OAPs or migrant workers, who sign the tags on Birdsong garments so customers know who made their clothes. Their makers appear in advertising campaigns as well, which I thought was a great idea; it emphasises how central skilled artisans are to the production of beautiful, good quality clothes.

 As well as paying a living wage, Birdsong London supports women’s organisations, and they have a commitment to caring for the planet as well as people. They use reclaimed or organic fabrics wherever possible; 80% of Birdsong’s Spring/Summer 2018 collection from reclaimed fabrics; they have a partnership with Traid, to use clothes that don’t make it into Traid’s secondhand shops. I really like their emphasis on small production runs, giving their clothes an element of exclusivity and ensuring that their makers are employed but not overworked. 

Dian-Jen Lin, an “interdisciplinary designer/ researcher” had a fascinating take  on the current approach to sustainable fashion. To her, sustainability is passive, regenerative sustainability would be proactive, so what we need is Regenerative Sustainability Activism. This is going to involve a radical re-thinking of how we apply new technologies to garment manufacture. As well as developing fabrics that are recyclable, or use recycled materials, we could develop clothes that actively give back to the world around us. 

Dian-Jen Lin’s current project is to create a photosynthetic material; by adding photosynthetic microorganisms to fabric, your t-shirt could photosynthesise while you go about your business. In cities, millions of people wearing clothes that use up carbon dioxide and give off 

oxygen could be a great solution to air pollution. She works with The Sustainable Angle, who help to promote and develop innovative new fabrics. From leather alternatives made from post-consumer food waste, to sustainable sequins, you can read more about the Sustainable Angle’s latest event, the Future Fabrics Expo, in my recent blog post or on their website. 

Designer Alex Noble gave us his overview of the fashion industry and how it has lost its way. In his opinion, the negative aspects of fashion currently outweigh the good, and we all need to work to redress the balance. The good aspects, the parts which allow designers to unleash their creativity and allow consumers to express their identity were the building blocks of the industry, but are now being exploited by multinationals who are only interested in profit.


Alex believes that we as creatives and consumers have the ability to change the industry, through working together in a more egalitarian way. More communication and collaboration is vital, to encourage transparency and to make sure a more diverse fashion industry is able to flourish. He is in favour of a return to small-scale manufacture, emphasising that garment workers are people, not statistics, and that manufacturers should take into consideration the quality of life their products are creating. To embed these values in the industry, teachers and students at fashion colleges should be making sustainability a priority, not a project, and we as consumers have to embrace this change and support small businesses!

I loved hearing such a variety of insight from people trying to change the fashion industry for the better in very different ways. The second part of the evening was a Q&A session, and I’ll be publishing a second blog post in a couple of weeks to share more from the panel, so stay tuned!

How To Be A Conscious Consumer Without Opening Your Wallet

This week (24th-30th April) is Fashion Revolution Week , marking four years since the collapse of the Rana Plaza factory building in Dhaka, Bangladesh, in which 1129 workers lost their lives. When talking about conscious consumerism, there's often an emphasis on changing our buying habits, so I wanted to show that we can take meaningful action without spending any money. Here are my tips for taking a thoughtful approach towards your existing wardrobe and the fashion industry that supplies its contents.  

• Love your clothes!: Don't just see the contents of your wardrobe as irritating pieces of fabric you have to wear in an arbitrary order to avoid getting arrested on your way to work, try to see them as the contents of a fantastic dressing up box that will help you to be whoever you need to be today, or at the very least will help you to feel comfortable in your skin.  Your clothes can be armour, a comfort blanket, a disguise, an advert. Seeing my clothes as possibility rather than dreary, disposable items encourages me to look after them: wash them carefully, mend them where possible, wage war on moths that might try to eat them and look forward to wearing them again. 

My wardrobe is an adventure, and I love it! 

• If your clothes aren't 'you' any more, swap them! : With the best will in the world, we all have clothes that don't really fit with our current style, and might work much better in a friend's wardrobe rather than our own. At my recent clothes swap, two friends had put aside several items for one another and ended up having a swap-within-a-swap, both going away with some fabulous new outfits. I often swap clothes with my sister (I say 'swap', usually I take her unwanted clothes away and hoard them, I tend to get very attached to my clothes!) and we borrow clothes and accessories from one another too. As long as you trust one another and are careful with your clothes, this can be a great way to avoid spending money for certain occasions, or to get to wear something a bit different. I sometimes 'forget' to bring an extra jumper when I go to stay with my parents so I can borrow one of my mum's collection of amazing hand-spun, hand-knitted jumpers, made by my great aunt. I have to give it back at the end of the weekend though, the jumpers are amazing for country walking in the winter, but too warm to wear in a centrally heated house! 

Swap buddies! Your friend's unwanted clothes could be your new favourite outfit

• Ask 'Who Made My Clothes?':  Most of us own high street clothes, made in factories overseas. I have plenty myself, and although I may make different purchasing decisions now, I’m not going to get rid of perfectly good clothes, that just generates more waste! Big brands aren't going to change the manufacture and pricing strategies that have made their CEOs so incredibly wealthy unless consumers put pressure on them, so during Fashion Revolution Week  this week we can all ask Who Made My Clothes? Either write to your go-to high street brands asking for more transparency in their supply chain and a better wage for workers, or take a selfie in your favourite piece of clothing with the label showing, then contact the brand on Twitter with the hashtag #whomademyclothes to show your support for the garment workers who made the clothes we so often take for granted. 

On Monday morning I asked H&M Who Made My Clothes on Twitter

• Reuse and re-wear with pride: Incredibly, to me, there is still a stigma attached to wearing clothes over and over again. It's ridiculous, since we all do it with our workwear, and the comfortable clothes we wear around the house and to see friends at the weekend. Occasion wear is expensive, and shaming people (usually those who wear dresses, as suits seem to pass under the multiple-wear radar without comment) who wear the same outfit to different events is thoughtless and unkind at best, and at worst classist and deliberately exclusionary; dismissing people based on a dress code is the worst kind of old-fashioned, petty snobbery. We can all help by pushing back against this outdated attitude wherever we see it, and admiring outfits we've seen before. It's easy to change the appearance of an item of clothing by changing your hairstyle or accessories, but you don't even need to go that far if it's something you felt fabulous in the first time around. Your value as a guest should not lie in your disposable income, true friends will have invited you for your conversation, personality and because you're a pal, not a fancy prop!

Taking part in the Six Items Challenge meant I couldn't be fussy about wearing the same thing to several different events! 

• Spread the word, gently: If you're on a low income, you're following the 'new' rules of conscious consumerism without a second thought, and always have been. Planning purchases, shopping around, carefully considering what you spend your money on and wearing your clothes until they wear out is second nature, not a revelation. Those of us who currently have enough disposable income to splash out on the odd impulse purchase can probably remember a time in the not-too-distant past when we didn't. Conscious consumerism is about making choices, and sometimes, due to any number of factors in our lives, our choices are more limited. Talking to friends and colleagues since I started this blog, I've realised that most of us are making more eco-friendly and sustainable clothing decisions without really realising it. By exchanging or offering tips and advice about repairing, reusing or recycling our clothes we can reach out to people in a non-judgemental way. I'd far rather use my energy to convey my enthusiasm for the money-saving and creative aspects of sustainable fashion, than waste time condemning other people's purchasing decisions. Fashion is a complex and messy intersection of many issues and I am aware that I have the luxury of making choices that someone else may not be able to make. 

I firmly believe that everyone can be a conscious consumer even when we might feel we have a bare minimum of purchasing power. Putting pressure on brands can have a really positive effect. More brands have released details of their supply chains to the Fashion Transparency Index, thanks to the actions that Fashion Revolution has encouraged consumers to take over the last four years. There is always more we can do to help minimise the toll fast fashion takes on the environment and the people who make our clothes, and some of them really are as simple as signing a petition or sharing a photo.