Let me paint you a picture. It’s a casual Friday night, I’m watching sex and the city sharing a litre of Messina Gelato with my mum and sis (the plot thickens as we eat 500 grams each **a word of caution to this tale: i’m totally single, can’t you tell?**). I’ve been sitting on my derriere all damn night and that feeling I know all too well starts to inhibit me.
Quite frantically I proclaim to the girls that I’m going to clean my wardrobe (a place i’ve neglected for quite some time) and off I scamper up the stairs into the abyss of clothes I’ve stuffed like sausages into my chester drawers. I instantly hit up my draw of singlets/t.shirts/general tops – Those last-minute Zara buys from April are the first thing to go. I hadn’t even worn them, but they look kinda dated, they’re moist for no reason and I just don’t have the finesse to rock ‘moist’.
I’ve always been impulsive but looking at my closet I felt sick at the amount of waste coming out of my cupboard. I’d considered myself in defence of investing in high-quality ‘farshun’, spending money on artisanal pieces but somehow I’d been slipping up without even knowing it, spending money on garments for a quick-fix Friday night outfit that only ever made it out the door once. One thing is for sure, things have escalated, spring is around the corner, my clothes are mouldy and I kind of want nothing to do with the old me.
The identity crisis of a 21-year-old is laughable, especially style related and I get that but trust me when I say it totally extended beyond me, myself and I. It was a Vice Documentary on West Antartica where the ice glaciers were melting, low-rise towns flooding and TLC-ed crops being destroyed (plus, a super hot euro journalist narrating the whole thing) that really pulled at the heart strings. I decided there’s got to be a happy medium between consumerism and environmentalism and for me that’s supporting slow fashion because investing in quality pieces and realising clothes shouldn’t be disposable is where it’s at bitches.
Although those mass retailers are going to give you an OK version of the real deal, I don’t mind spending a little extra dorra for the sake of sustainability and perennial style – not all heroes wear capes, ladies. Plus, supporting luxe brands is a little bit more personal, and who doesn’t like personal?
And did we mention, they’ll become family heirlooms. Yes, your daughters, daughters, daughter will show the world what a stylish bisch you were even when you’re in the grave – and isn’t that what really matters?
Do you practice sustainability babes? Give me some pointers.