The Degrowth Wardrobe: Rethinking Fashion for a Finite Planet
In an industry propelled by relentless newness, what does it truly mean to have enough?
A Deliberate Resistance in the Closet
Open your wardrobe. What do you see? A chaotic sprawl of fleeting trends or a carefully curated collection? A coat that has accompanied you through countless seasons, a dress that has marked celebrations, shoes lovingly re-soled and polished? Each piece a testament to patience, care, and purpose.
This is the essence of the degrowth wardrobe - a conscious resistance to fashion’s insatiable appetite for more. In a world grappling with climate breakdown, resource depletion, and mountains of textile waste, it might just be the most potent style revolution left.
What Exactly is Degrowth?
Degrowth isn’t about austerity - it’s about wisdom. It is an economic philosophy that elevates human wellbeing over perpetual GDP expansion. It challenges the myth that growth must come at any cost, especially when it erodes ecosystems, undermines labour rights, and exacerbates global inequity.
Applied to fashion, degrowth demands a fundamental rethink: from chasing constant production and consumption to embracing sufficiency, longevity, and regenerative systems. It poses a simple yet radical question: What if the most sustainable wardrobe isn’t a new one - but the one you already own?
Fast Fashion’s Unsustainable Surge
The relentless “more is better” mantra has come at an extraordinary cost:
The average consumer purchases 60% more clothing than 15 years ago, but retains items for only half as long (NGPF, 2023).
Fashion accounts for up to 10% of global carbon emissions - surpassing aviation and shipping combined (UNEP, 2023).
Australians rank second globally in textile consumption, buying 56 new items per person per year (CSIRO, 2023).
Behind these staggering statistics lie human and ecological tolls: garment workers earning below living wages, rivers polluted with toxic dye runoff, and landfills swelling with discarded textiles - epitomising an extractive supply chain that prioritises volume over value. This is growth - but not progress.
Before Growth Took Over: A Historical Perspective
Not so long ago, wardrobes were constrained by necessity but rich with meaning. One occasion dress - worn to every wedding, christening, and dance. Two sturdy daily dresses for work and chores. A pair of polished shoes reserved for Sunday best, another for everyday life. These garments were mended, tailored, and passed down, embodying durability and emotional significance.
Occasion dresses were not off-the-rack disposables; they were often handmade by local seamstresses, meticulously tailored, crafted from carefully chosen fabrics. Each piece bore the indelible mark of wearer and maker alike - much like how historic buildings gained character from hand-carved marble facades and hand-painted murals, bestowing a unique sense of place and identity.
The late 20th century marked a profound shift: post-WWII industrial scaling, the synthetic revolution of the 1970s, and the explosive growth of fast fashion in the 1990s catalysed an era of mass-produced, ephemeral garments. Between 2000 and 2015, global clothing production doubled while utilisation rates plummeted by 36% (McKinsey, 2016). Today, the fashion landscape resembles a skyline of anonymous glass towers, mirroring the flood of indistinguishable polyester garments rushing from factories to landfill. Amid unchecked growth and overconsumption, artistry has been eclipsed by speed and scale - an aesthetic degradation born from post-industrial acceleration.
Degrowth as a Return to Craft
Degrowth doesn’t mean turning back the clock - it means reclaiming what was lost. When quantity contracts, quality can flourish:
Fewer, better garments - Seasonless, trans-seasonal pieces in quality fabrics that age gracefully with you. Consider ASKET’s lifetime garments or Neem London’s traceable menswear, champions of textile provenance and transparency.
Repair over replace - Patagonia’s Worn Wear or Nudie Jeans’ free repairs turn mending into a mark of pride.
Rewearing without shame - If Kate Middleton can repeat a dress for the cameras, you can repeat your favourites in daily life.
Community and care - Swaps, rentals, upcycling, local tailoring - shifting from ownership to access, from buying to belonging.
Slowing the churn invites detail back into the conversation: hand-finished hems, natural fibres softening with time, buttons sewn on with care.
If Fashion Has a Future, What Will We Remember?
Picture a fashion museum in 2125. If we manage to avert the worst of climate change, what will it display? Will mannequins be dressed in shimmering couture, hand-embroidered gowns, textiles rich with history? Or will they stand draped in polyester fast fashion, colours faded, seams fraying after a handful of washes?
Today’s exhibitions - Dior’s New Look, Qing dynasty silk robes, 1920s beadwork - are enduring testaments to craftsmanship and permanence. It is sobering to imagine that the relics of the 2020s might speak less of beauty and more of environmental neglect.
Lessons from Other Sectors
While fashion hesitates, other industries already embody degrowth principles:
Energy - Community-owned solar projects prioritising resilience over expansion.
Mobility - Cities like Copenhagen reducing car dependency with cycling infrastructure.
Food - The slow food movement - a global, grassroots organisation that promotes local, traditional, and sustainable food systems as an alternative to fast food.
The through-line? Doing better with less - and doing it in a way that’s equitable, resilient, and deeply human.
But Can the Fashion Industry Really Degrow?
The challenge is real. How to preserve livelihoods if production slows? How to redefine profit beyond sales volume?
The answer lies in a just transition. A shift to fair wages regardless of output. A pivot toward circular business models - repair, resale, rental. And it’s happening: the global secondhand market is expected to double by 2027 (ThredUp, 2023). Repair cafés and mending workshops are blossoming worldwide, from Melbourne to Montreal. Consumers are proving willing to embrace slower, intentional dressing - if the infrastructure supports it.
Dressing for a Future That Fits
So, now that you’re more familiar with degrowth than you were ten minutes ago, here’s a question to sit with: What does your closet say about you? Is it a testament to intention, stories, and care - or a shrine to convenience, impulse, and excess?
Think beyond your personal style. Imagine the global footprint stitched into every piece: the water wasted, the toxic dyes spilled, the workers unseen but bearing the weight of mass production. Your closet isn’t just personal - it’s a nexus where culture, environment, and economy collide.
Degrowth challenges us to rewrite this story - to slow the cycle and cherish what we already have. It asks us to consider not just what we wear, but how we wear it.
Ergo, before you next click “add to cart,” pause. Ask yourself: Am I feeding an endless machine or crafting a wardrobe that could be a cultural artefact
Because every garment is a choice - to contribute to a legacy worth remembering, or just more noise in the landfill of history.
The future of fashion isn’t in more. It’s in less - but better.
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