De-Gendering Fashion

Dear reader -- welcome back! Fall is here at last, and I’m hopeful that the weather will soon cooperate. Summer is the greatest season of all time IMO, but the prospect of a chill in the air for layering purposes is certainly exciting. Over here at Apocalypse, we are gearing up for Halloween, because OBVIOUSLY Halloween is the entire month of October and we won’t accept anything less. We’ll be dressing up in costumes every Saturday in October just for your (and our) viewing (and wearing) pleasure. 

So, today we’re going to be talking about clothes! Surprise! Really, we’re going to discuss the nature of clothes, their history, and why on earth clothes have come to be “gendered". Disclaimer: I have never taken a gender studies class, I am a cisgender, heterosexual white woman, and have learned what I know through independent study. Thanks to the help of some coworkers and friends, I think I’ve managed to write something cohesive. Ready to dive in?

As anyone who has ever seen a Medieval painting, or an ancient statue, you may be familiar with the history of people (including men) in robes, dresses, and skirts. Like, duh. The most comfortable, breathable, simple way to clothe oneself! Throughout history, clothes have been just that: fabric that you wear to protect yourself from the elements (or the gaze of others). Ancient Greek soldiers wore skirt-like garments to battle; South Asian peoples are famous for their sarongs and other types of wraps; Scottish heroes vanquished their enemies in kilts. So, at what point did the universal skirt become a symbol of the “modern woman?”

TLDR, gendered clothing as we know it today started in the 19th century, for a variety of reasons. Previously, differences in dress primarily distinguished between social classes. Over time and with new technological advancements, seamstresses and tailors began to focus more exclusively on “womens” and “mens” clothing, creating distinct aesthetics for each sex. Thus, as gender became a more important societal construct, dress became a gender marker as well. It’s important to note that the rise of strict gender roles comes from the (false!) eugenic theory that the sexes become “more distinct” from one another as the society becomes more civilised, but we’ll be talking about that later. The societal construct of binary genders and the dress that visually enforced this binary developed synergistically.

Gender is a social construct that involves norms for behaviour, access to power, and (now) dress. Biological sex refers to one's sex chromosomes and structures -- the most common biological sexes are male, female, and people with a mix of both organs fall into the intersex category. In recent history, biological sex has been used to determine gender, effectively putting a constraint on gender identity (which is ridiculous, given that society can construct gender however we’d like!). Gender expression is the public mannerisms, dress, aesthetic preferences, etc, that one adopts. This can be aligned with one’s gender, or can vary depending on taste, comfort, and often (unfortunately) safety.

So, if we know that biological sex does NOT determine gender, and gender doesn’t always determine gender expression, then you might be led to ask why biological sex dictates our clothes. After all, a t-shirt is not sentient; it is not biologically one sex or another. It’s just an item of clothing. For people. To wear. On their bodies. Like they were invented for. But instead, clothes have taken on social signals associated with gender, which can give and take away perceived power. After all, a woman wearing trousers adopts the cultural power that those trousers carry as a result of their association with heteropatriarchy. On the converse, skirts are associated with feminine traits, such as being “weak” (empathetic) or “frivolous” (enjoying aesthetics) -- thus, the man who dons a skirt also dons these cultural signifiers.

In response to gendered fashion, the clothing industry has often turned to “unisex” collections. And you know what? I think this is pretty lazy. Why? Two reasons: First, “unisex” looks are most often aesthetically closer to menswear -- signalling that men’s dress is the standard that others need to adapt to. And that’s both 1) sexist and 2) really f*cking boring for getting dressed.

Second, the “unisex” response relies on making large clothes in a “one-shape-fits-all” mindset, but getting rid of binary gender in fashion doesn’t mean that clothes shouldn’t fit correctly. When we buy a “women’s blouse”, we implicitly know that the fit and shape of that shirt will be different from a “men’s blouse" (or shirt), because people of the female sex tend on average to be smaller than those of the male sex. But, what if instead of using the word “woman” we used words that actually describe the fit? A women’s blouse turns into a fitted top with a collar. Much more informative -- and much more inclusive to those who don’t fall into our wacky little 21st century binary.

THIS is the ideal of those pushing for de-gendering fashion: clothing is treated as something (for everyone) to wear rather than another way to fit the world into two neat categories. The desire of our species to create binary systems is overwhelming -- it’s tempting to see things in black and white! But a binary worldview hurts all of us, even if we’re not aware of it. The poison of the binary worldview affects more than just fashion, but clothes are, after all, how we talk to others without saying a word. Additionally, the struggle for degendered fashion is also the struggle for the rights of LGBTQ+ and BIPOC people -- two communities, it's worth mentioning, that have pushed for equal rights for all people and for freedom of expression for decades, to all of our benefit.

As I mentioned at the beginning of this discussion, trans and gender-queer people often don’t feel represented in a female/male world, or their gender expression expands outside of the conception of gender as binary. Removing “female” and “male” terms from clothing increases access to new self-expression for nonbinary people, people expanding their gender expression, and really, for all of us. And critically, removing the gender binary from fashion aids in decreasing the pressures of the gender binary in other parts of society.

Binary fashion impacts the struggle for BIPOC rights in a more nuanced, but crucial way. Many native societies that Europeans encountered didn’t ascribe to the gender binary -- often, they didn’t categorise people at all, or allowed them to choose their identity later in life, or even had vocabulary for genders outside of female/male. In their efforts to scientifically codify racism, white sociologists and scientists considered the lack of a gender binary to be a sign of a “more primitive race”. Essentially, they tried to claim that the more “civilised” a society, the more stark the differences between women and men in that society.

This, my friends, is eugenics! And is total fuck*ng bullsh*t. So, you can see how the enforcement of a Western-conceived gender binary is doubly oppressing those of color.

So what do we do? All of these things are interconnected (that’s on intersectionality, baby!) because the world and people are interconnected and messy as hell. It seems that the way forward must be to just accept this messiness -- trying to group people on superficial similarities rather than to celebrate radical differences is harmful. So many of the seemingly “normal” societal conventions rely on our quiet acceptance of the status quo, but it’s clear that binary thinking harms everyone at some level. So although fashion may seem trivial to some, pushing for change in one societal sphere has the power to change mindsets in all spheres. The small constructs and habits of our society, like how we dress and refer to dress, ultimately *support* all of these ideas about big topics like race, gender, and equality.

At Apocalypse, we work to avoid using “men's” or “women's” as a descriptor for clothing, opting for masculine and feminine instead. Primarily, we want folks in our community to feel more freedom in their choices of clothing and expression. However, we know that we need to work to further erase the lines of what people should and shouldn’t wear.

Thanks again everyone, for your time and attention. Have a beautiful day!

The Intrepid Fashionista’s Guide to the Internet

Hello, dear readers, and happy Tuesday. Did you notice in the last newsletter that I said happy Friday even though it was a Tuesday? I truly hope I didn’t delude any hopefuls into thinking it was almost the weekend. So, oops. Last time, we (I) discussed (ranted about) sustainability in a pretty scientific way, which I hope was at least enlightening.

Today, I wanna talk about being a PERSON on the INTERNET. God, it’s so embarrassing, isn’t it? To have to interact with the whole world in a way that looks authentic but not too real and also be served up a platter of advertisements that serve as subconscious mind-foods until you give into the hunger and BUY the thing. If you did not follow that metaphor, fear not. What I’m trying to say is, the internet has given us access to *everything*. So how do we decide what we want? And more importantly, how can we avoid getting our data analysed until some company decides for us?

There are two prongs to this conversation. First, how do we navigate personal style in the age of the algorithm? AKA: how the heck do I know what I want to wear and am I consciously choosing to want to wear it? And second, how do we avoid overconsumption at the hands of the internet and the ads it feeds us? Ultimately, both of these things tie into being a sustainable consumer: if you know your own style, you can figure out what trends are for you and your closet and which are just clickbait, avoiding buying things just to sell them soon after. Shall we?

Instagram and TikTok are visual medias, which means that the more visually appealing a photo or video is, the more attention it will get. Of course, there are many nuances to the algorithms that drive Instagram and TikTok, certainly more than the visual appeal of the content. But, the dependence on eye-catching posts for engagement has resulted in a new micro-trend that people have been calling avant-basic. Avant-basic comprises bright clothes, in funky patterns, sometimes fashioned in non-traditional materials (like crochet). Because these pieces are so loud, they command attention on apps! Think: the OG warp-check pant from Paloma Wool, everything that House of Sunny makes, Farm Rio’s bright prints, Lisa Says Gah’s collection with artist KJ Plumb.

Now of course, there’s validity to these trends! While they’re attention-grabbing, they’re also just fun, the perfect pick-me-up from a year and a half of comfort-core. However -- I have personally fallen victim to a pair of pants that are so eye-catching, but simply don’t fit into my wardrobe the way I’d like. Parsing the clothes that feel like me when I put them on from the clothes that make me look a certain way is critical to finding my personal style!

Like most things, making the best decision when considering purchasing a new item relies on stopping, and thinking. Asking ourselves questions like, “how might this blouse fit in my closet?” or “am I buying this just to wear once to that party?” can help us reduce our impulse spending *and* our fashion footprint. Alternatively, consider buying that same piece on Poshmark, or Depop, or The RealReal -- you get the pretty dress, for cheaper (!), and you’ve taken part in the secondhand economy. Now, this kind of thoughtfulness is also required of us when we consider how we’re buying our clothes.

The internet is not like a book -- we don’t consciously choose to intake that information, but instead it is fed to us, in a never-ending stream. Because of this automacy, we sometimes have the decision of how we’re buying our clothes made for us. It's so often that I'm perusing a fashion media website and am suddenly accosted, with something like "25 Great Fall Transitional Pieces You Can Find On Amazon". It's innocent enough -- Amazon is very convenient, after all. But, how many people click right through to purchase whatever clothes they want on Amazon, rather than from the webstore of the people who made it? And listen. I will not lie to you: I am Very Anti Jeff Bezos. There’s no reason for one man to sell a bunch of things made by other people. It encourages non-local shopping (ie., ordering things from halfway around the world and expecting that to be a normal thing) and is just frustrating. I digress.

The same is true with ads. This is less for ethical reasons than it is for ~personal style~ reasons. If all the ad-men have tracked my data and decided, definitively, that I should purchase a pair of Prada loafers from The RealReal, I dunno if I want them! Wouldn’t that just be the result of my taste, reflected in my Instagram intake, reflected back at me by people who want to make money off me? I want to want things because I want to wear them. It’s about the intentionality, isn’t it? I intentionally choose to buy a piece that I’ve been eyeing for months. I intentionally order it from the people who made it, to facilitate a direct interaction with the people that produced my stuff. It feels better, like I’ve managed to use the internet for its good and out-maneuver the bad parts.

This is all to say, friends, I’ve been trying to focus on how I use the internet for my purchasing habits, and how I can avoid buying everything just because it’s there! It feels beneficial to me, because I’m actually establishing a barrier between my mind and my phone, but also beneficial for the planet, because this kind of slow thinking is the only thing that will help us near “sustainable consumption”. As much as I’d love to get on the crochet top or bucket hat trend, I know it won’t really feel like me so I’ll wear it once and be done. So why get it at all?

Well, this has been a long rant and really just a deep dive into my brain. Welcome! Do you feel insane? Me too! I hope you all find these little rabbit holes to be interesting, 'cause I'm gonna be whipping them up whether you like it or not. But it would be super cool if you liked it :)

The Sustainability Paradox

What is UP you guys, happy Friday and happy JULY! How did that happen?? It was April last time I checked. Perhaps it's the excitement of the post-pandemic life. How have you guys been feeling? FOMO is fully returned and I'm not quite sure I love it!

Today, we’re talking about the S word. You know... s************y.

Yes, we're talking about sustainability. Or more specifically, the paradox of sustainability in fashion. To do this, we first have to define what sustainability *really* is. As consumers have increasingly shifted their preferences towards products that are organic, recycled, or otherwise sustainably branded, drawing a line between what is actually sustainable and what is just greenwashing is crucial. Let’s begin.

The concept of sustainability derives from ecosystem sciences, because nature is the OG sustainable baddie. In most (if not all) natural processes, any byproducts go back into creating the resources needed to carry out the original process, and so nothing is wasted. For example, plants convert energy into edible forms for animals that will one day die, decay, and provide nutrients needed for more plants to grow.

The idea of sustainable *human* practices is that those practices provide for the needs of the people without compromising the ability to fulfill these needs in the future. To translate this to fashion: for clothing to be sustainable, it needs to be produced in a way that does not compromise the ability of the environment to provide the resources needed for future clothing.

For example, you might think: okay, well cotton grows back! So do other natural fibers for textiles! But of course, it is more complex than that. Growing the same crop continually in a field will slowly deplete the soil of crucial nutrients -- rendering that plot of land useless for growing anything! So monocropping (growing one type of plant in the same area all the time) is not going to work. The process of growing the material depletes the ability to grow the material the next year.

You might already see how any sort of clothing production does not really fit the criteria of sustainability. Modern clothing production relies on finite resources to produce an infinite amount of stuff that is often only used by the consumer for a few years (or months, in the case of fast fashion) before being discarded. And discarded to where? Sometimes to donation stores, where TikTok teens and low-income families alike shop the racks; sometimes they’re offloaded to developing countries; a lot of the time they pile up in landfills.

A few forward-thinking brands have come out with statements in the past few years blatantly claiming that they are *not* sustainable. Of note are American brand Noah, and Scandi favourite Ganni, both of whom have previously been lauded for their leadership in the sustainable fashion space. In essence, these brands (correctly) claimed that every happy customer requires a toll on the environment, whether through the resources needed for production, the emissions cost of distribution, or an array of other side effects.

And this doesn’t even start to delve into the responsibility of a company to extend the lifetime of their garments after they have gone into the hands of the consumer. Noah recently started a program called “Not Dead Yet” that allows consumers to send in old products for store credit. This is a great example of corporate responsibility! However, many sustainability analysts call for more action, like programs that assist consumers in learning how to care for their garments in a way that makes them last longer, or that provide consumers with the tools needed to make repairs to their garments. The most famous (and pioneering) effort in this vein comes from Patagonia, whose Worn Wear program makes it possible to make repairs, swap out clothing, and donate it for credit when the time comes.

Many brands, and sustainability advocates, acknowledge the fact that humans did clothe themselves for thousands of years without Earth-shattering consequences. They point to the forgotten art of craftsmanship as an avenue towards sustainable production and consumption.

However, while the cobbler may have been a viable option for a Medieval town of 300 people, we do be living in a world with almost 8 billion people! And the worst part? Thanks to industrialisation and the internet, all of those people feel entitled to whatever product they want/can afford from any other place on the planet. Phew, that’s a hard one to get past! And naturally, a time intensive process like true craftsmanship is pricey AF. Thanks to industrialisation and the internet, all of those people feel entitled to whatever product they want (or can afford) from any other place on the planet. That’s a hard one to get past! And naturally, a time intensive process like true craftsmanship is pricey AF. So that already effectively outprices 99% of the world’s population from purchasing sustainably-crafted goods.

And I hate (love) to be the one to say this, but we simply cannot consider building a sustainable model of fashion production around a practice that excludes virtually all of the people who the current fashion industry relies on. Oof. So what the f*ck do we do now?

Like the answer to many, many environmental concerns, the change will likely have to happen in the minds of the consumers themselves. Our lives are so separate from the products that we consume that oftentimes we don’t even realise how much we are consuming or how those products impact the environment. Consumers need to focus on holding off from changing their wardrobe every season. Traditionally, fashion operated on a four season schedule: Spring/Summer, Fall/Winter, Pre-Fall, and Resort. Fast fashion brands, however, often introduce hundreds of new styles *every week*. That's 52 micro-seasons a year!

While it’s true that we’re past living in an age where a dress takes a dressmaker several weeks to complete, we need to start thinking about fashion production in this way. The changes that have occurred in the fashion industry to make the production cycle so much faster are the ones that are harming the environment. It is as simple as that.

This solution is far from perfect, and it perfectly sums up the conundrum of late-stage capitalism. Due to a lack of ethical regulation (ie, allowing “the markets to work their magic” aka “not giving a sh*t about social or environmental externalities), individuals themselves are left to try to fix the problem despite having very little control over the situation.

Famously, the capitalist consumer protests with their wallet, so the idea is that if we behave on a slower cycle, businesses will slow their roll. Similarly, supporting businesses that don’t make anything new to produce clothes (like upcycling, recycling, or second hand) allows us to not only avoid making new products but also saves some from the landfill. TBD on if that stops climate change.

As we know, reaching total social coordination on any front is impossible, especially in modern America. But, changing consumer perspectives also helps mitigate environmental impact in other industries, such as food production. If you understand that it doesn’t make sense to pay $11 for a dress from China, you probably understand that it doesn’t make sense to get $5 mangos in the dead of winter.

All of ^^ this ^^ is part of why we started Apocalypse. Arguing that one person is going to stop the climate crisis is obviously hyperbolic. However, by providing a place for our community to shop as-sustainably-as-possible and to learn about the intersection of fashion and climate, we feel we're doing what we can. The clothing resale market is projected to double in the next five years, and that's a future to look forwards to.

This is a conversation I intend on continuing to have (I do have an environmental science degree, after all). The nuances of sustainability are so complex but necessary to learn, and I think we can do it together. Where do you stand on sustainable fashion? Do you think it’s a possibility, and on what timeline?

Thanks for listening guys. Love you.

Juneteenth

Hi guys! I hope this email finds you well, just like I hope the last one found you well, and the one before that, etc. etc. I got some positive feedback from y'all on the last newsletter, which was a bit more ~educational~ than some of the past emails. I'm so glad, as my goal here is to intellectualise fashion -- after all, everyone has to wear clothes, so what we choose to wear *has* to reveal something about ourselves/each other/society at large, no? I'm so glad you agree.

On the topic of education: Juneteenth is tomorrow, and if you don't know what Juneteenth is, I would first ask where you were during 2020's racial reckoning. Then, I would be kind and give you a quick breakdown.

Juneteenth celebrations in Chicago, via the Sun-Tribune.

Juneteenth marks the emancipation of enslaved Black people in Texas following Union victory in the Civil War. While the Emancipation Proclamation was passed in 1863 (which was meant to free all slaves in the U.S.), there wasn't much enforcement in the southern states until Union soldiers arrived in 1865.

Juneteenth is a great time to reflect on our social systems to see how Black communities are continually oppressed, even if this oppression is not blatantly coded as slavery. Juneteenth is an important day to mobilise the American populace towards enacting racial justice, and for white people to educate ourselves on how to be actively anti-racist and celebrate Black life.

So! In that vein: Let's look at the role of antebellum slavery in building the modern fashion industry, and furthermore, the role that modern slavery plays in producing fast fashion.

However, a discussion of how Antebellum slavery built the modern textile (and fashion) industry would be remiss without touching on the forced and often unpaid labour used in the current fashion industry.

As always, it's so important to recognise how Black people have been left out of or discriminated by the American system. How have we created an America that is inherently hostile to the ancestors of the people who built it? Consider the systems you are a part of this Juneteenth, and interrogate if they are designed with the success and comfortability of white people in mind.

If you'd like to read more, I've linked all of my sources for this piece here.

Balenciaga Crocs?!?

Good afternoon! It's so great to be back here with you. The weather has really been nice, hey? It's making me and the rest of the team absolutely giddy with summertime fever. Did you guys do anything fun for the holiday weekend? I wish we could have barbecued but Mother Nature had other plans for us (maybe a shorter fire season???). Anyways, I digress once again.

So I was scrolling through TikTok the other day (I am, after all, a Zillenial) and found the most interesting economics video. Yes, I am 100% serious, even though "interesting" and "economics" rarely go hand in hand. Anyways, the creator of the video was explaining one of the most perplexing phenomena in fashion: Balenciaga Crocs. His explanation for this fashion paradox? Trickle-round signalling.

Before you panic and think of Reagan-style economics (a true nightmare), let me explain. Trickle-round signalling is a mechanism of trend cycling proposed by economists Silvia Bellezza and Jonah Berger, where trends move from the lower class to higher classes.

This may sound backwards -- wouldn't it make sense that trends pass from the higher classes (who have access to the most recent fashion collections) to lower classes? After all, this is what the structure of the entire fashion world is based on.

Trends that we adopt can be considered "signals" that we send to other people about ourselves, and our economic and social standing. Thus, it makes sense that lower classes adopt signals from higher classes over time to improve their status in the eyes of others. However, the findings of Bellezza and Berger suggest that over time, higher classes adopt signals from the lower class. How and why?

Berger, a Wharton School professor who co-authored the research that proposed a trickle-around theory, describes the cycle as such: "As luxury goods have become more attainable, the wealthy need alternative ways to signal their status. Elites can experiment with lowbrow culture without fear of losing status, while middle class individuals whose position is more tenuous stick to clear-cut status symbols".

So basically... Balenciaga Crocs happened because rich people wanted to look a little poor in order to look more rich. That's late-stage capitalism for ya! Once I started thinking, I found many more examples of products borne of trickle-round signalling, like...

So... do you buy the trickle-round theory? Have you started to feel like the economy might just be made up? (Yes). Undecided and want to read the original research? You can find it here. Cheers!

Stylin’ on the Streets

GUYS. Long time no frickin' talk.

We have been busy doing a million and one things, all of which involve making Apocalypse the best it can be for y'all this summer. But since we've been doing that, I haven't been able to sit down a la Carrie Bradshaw and write this sexy little newsletter. (I hope you know that is exactly how I picture myself: sitting down dramatically, spinning some hair around my finger, and coming up with some ridiculous tag line like, "Can you be friends with an ex?". But, I digress.)

Anyways, as you might be familiar, we are kinda sorta finally reentering normalcy following this horrible panini. Pandemic. Sorry. And reentering normalcy means one thing and one thing only, baby: time to get those big fits off!

The past year has changed how many industries work, and fashion is no exception. With the loss of runway shows, street style became even more important for gathering sartorial inspiration and keeping one's finger on the aesthetic pulse.

But this year, unlike the street style of years past, there weren't any photographers and paparazzi sent out to the fashion capitals of the world. There was no front row fashion; no explicit knowledge that whatever you were wearing, millions of people would see it. Gone was the pressure to dress up for the cameras!

So, what was left? What do the fashion nobility of the world wear when no one is watching? Enter: the Instagram account @parisiensinparis.

When everything on social media can seem intentional to the point of being an advertisement, seeing the real outfits of real Parisiens going about their daily lives (taking a Lime spin around the city?) is refreshing and often provides better style inspiration than an officially-photographed street style article might. It also begs the question -- what are we wearing out these days?

In Paris, it seems that the myth of French dressing holds true: the Instagram often features people in blazers, jeans, and a solid pair of boots, maybe with a hat or scarf tossed on here and there. This is the true French Fashion™️ that we hear about and aspire to.

What's arguably more interesting is the spinoff accounts that @parisiensinparis have inspired. Below, three of our team members provide their first impression of each city's style based on their respective street style Instagrams. Joining us are Lana (Head of Operations), Lacy (Assistant Manager), and myself (Mason, Head of Communications and Creative. Breaking the fourth wall much?)

So... what are your thoughts? Which city sparks your interest? What fits are you excited to wear this summer?

The Conscious Consumerism Guide

Hey guys!!

Seriously, hey. How are you. Really strange times we are living in, acutely painful but also simultaneously hopeful. So it's okay if you're not feeling *awesome*. But we over here at Apocalypse have decided to forge on, trying to create meaning and maybe enact some sort of positive change in this life.

And this month is Earth Month. Which is a ridiculous concept if you think about it too long, (shouldn't the Earth be paid attention to, like, always?) but is a good reason to talk about some of our favorite topics, like sustainability, conscious consumerism, and environmental justice.

We've got some fun things on our docket this month, such as a Q&A series with some of our favourite sustainable makers, so watch out on our Instagram. Love ya.

Boulder has gotten a little taste of springtime this past week, and it's making us eager to overhaul our wardrobes in preparation for #vaccinesummer. However, we also like to ascribe to a little wardrobe-math game in which every piece that we take in, gets matched by a piece going out.

Okay, we might slip up every once in a while. I, personally, have a pants addiction that is seemingly impossible to satiate. However, there are some thought exercises that we like to use over here at Apocalypse that keep us conscious in our consumerism and minimize our role in the clothing crisis. Scroll on for tips for consciously consuming!

Of course, this isn’t an exhaustive guide, and using that big ol’ brain of yours will always be critical in making the best fashion decisions. But, we hope this helped a little. Love you guys. Bye!

The Quarantine Revival of DIY

At Apocalypse, we *love* clothes. Seriously love 'em. We can look at and talk about clothing all day long! But, too often these days, the clothes we love are taking a toll on the planet and on the people. Fast fashion grants accessibility to trendy clothing to a wider range of people, but cheaper materials and labor means less longevity of the items and poor working conditions for factory workers.

On the other hand, sustainable fashion is notoriously expensive, and not necessarily the answer to solving the climate crisis. So what's the middle ground? Of course, we're big fans of clothing resale as a solution to balancing our love for fashion with our respect for the planet and her people. Today, we're talking about resale's funky sibling: DIY!

DIY, or do-it-yourself, is the trend that we've been seeing a lot lately - especially throughout quarantine. People are making, altering, and otherwise upcycling clothing, quilts, towels etc. Craft elements have been seen everywhere from entrepreneurial DIY-ers on Depop (such as Ella Emhoff, Kamala Harris's stepdaughter) to the RTW runways this spring (a la Marni, below).

DIY allows individuals to put their own spin on a specific trend or item, while also prolonging the longevity of existing clothing or repurposing old textiles -- so it's a great way to show off some of your personal style *and* do your part for the planet!

In the long confines of quarantine, crafting has surged in popularity (maybe you've done some DIY-ing yourself in the past year). People had lots of time on their hands, limited budgets, and brain-numbing boredom that had to be absolved! For example, Dana, of Instagram brand Sunworn Vintage, started her business of upcycling vintage towels into clothing after losing her job due to COVID.

DIY is also likely borne out of cottagecore, an aesthetic influenced by Romanticism and the arts and crafts movement. While cottagecore was popular before quarantine (see: the rise of Batsheva), being forced to stay at home allowed people to further lean into their idyllic home-making fantasies. Cottagecore can be thought of as a pushback against mass consumerism, in that the focus is on making your own products, whether that's clothes or food. In this sense, cottagecore and DIY share the same heart: self-reliance, expression, and environmental awareness.

So… what do you think? Is there a place for DIY in your closet? (The answer is most likely yes!)