A transformation is happening in the appearance of eco-design, and it goes far beyond the usual buzzwords. Just weeks ago, I was at a design panel in New York—a sustainable design panel, to be exact—where I heard brands like Stella McCartney and Gabriela Hearst and some nice emerging labels from Brooklyn speak about how real environmental responsibility is influencing everything they do. It was definitely an uplifting convo, and not just because the panelists had cool clothes.
They are all integrating unusual materials into their designs (or some version of that). But what I liked most was hearing them talk about rethinking craftsmanship, valuing heritage, and considering production processes in their not-so-theoretical future. I remember sitting in the audience with a front-row seat when one of the panelists—a well-respected creative director from a sustainable fashion label—told the story of the panel.
His narrative revolved around how he sourced materials for his eco-conscious garments. And he talked about working with local suppliers. And he talked about suppliers who were anything but local, as in halfway around the world.
And he dwelled almost reverentially on the partnerships he’d forged during his now many years in business with family farms in California and artisan workshops in India. And every moment spent in those pioneering spaces where “eco” meets “nomics” inflected his story, making it as good as any fable told for a fire. Several months ago, I attended a presentation at New York Fashion Week that epitomized the new eco-chic era.
Although there are many presentations, this one really stood out—truly a collection from a designer who has steadily made her way up the ranks of the industry due to her zero-waste commitment. The garments in her collection, all made from upcycled materials and natural dyes, were a blend of contemporary style and artisanal craft that had me—and definitely some of my fellow audience members—applauding not just their beauty but their sustainability. And it wasn’t just one outfit that got me going; there were many.
One coat, in particular, really took my breath away. After the presentation, I strolled through the backstage corridors and had the chance to converse with several stylists who were kind enough to share with me the insights they had garnered from long years of working in the eco-chic space. One stylist, who has some seriously impressive editorial features in top fashion magazines, told me that the real fashion world has evolved past simply putting high-end labels on runways.
“I have a ton of clients now who really gravitate towards brands that not only look good but truly do good,” she said, and I found it hard not to share in her enthusiasms. I believe what she said. I now think of that recent visit we made to a pop-up boutique in the Lower East Side, where sustainable fashion labels were front and center, right next to their more-established counterparts, and where a buzz of very real business was happening.
It is impossible not to be captivated by the sustainable practices that the design elite are embracing. Just recently, I read a profile of a designer in a top fashion magazine, one whose work has long stood at the intersection of immaculate tailoring and timeless silhouettes. He’s obviously not in need of an introduction or a sales bump, yet here he was, candidly revealing in an interview that his latest collection was all about “future heirlooms”—pieces with not just a lifetime guarantee but an ecological one as well.
It goes without saying that a green tuxedo (more on that later) is a mind-bending concept, even for someone like me, who hasn’t donned a tux since the last year of grad school, at the latest. The eco-chic movement is also receiving a digital boost from some highly influential figures. Instagram, along with several other visually oriented platforms, offers an ideal space to showcase the stunning end product—the article of clothing itself.
Yet if you look even slightly closer at these accounts, the real stories that connect us to these beautiful garments shine through. One account I follow, run by a certain high-profile advocate for sustainable fashion, recently opened up the backstage of her wonderfully photogenic life. She spent a day at a particular designer’s studio in Los Angeles.
The staff working there was certainly talented, and they were lauded within the industry, but you wouldn’t learn that from your average fast-fashion retail experience. When I reflect on these experiences, I cannot help but wonder about the vast stretch of consumer behavior to which they might relate. Increasingly, it feels like all of us are questioning the very essence of our choices as part of a mad human endeavor.
The calm I recently experienced with my clothing followed a week of intense work in the fashion system—and, believe me, it’s as unsustainable as it sounds. Yet this contradiction has me totally messed up, no outlet, no panacea. What I have noticed now for a long time is that many people who work in this industry cope by embracing what looks to me like a kind of compartmentalization tied to denial.
I can see why that’s tempting, but it’s also (in my not-so-humble opinion) just not okay. To pretend otherwise is to undermine any semblance of authenticity, which is exactly what more and more of us seem to be reaching for as the basis of any relationship we might have with fashion today. I was struck during a sustainability showcase held in a renovated loft in Manhattan.
A designer who had traveled worldwide to find the materials for her collection presented the showcase. It was her very first line. It was a minimalist number, whose long, lean lines and deceptively simple shapes concealed the true artistry within.
For this was a collection, not just of clothes, but also of rich stories about each garment. I stood there as this young woman talked about her work, her travels, and the inspiration behind what she had done. And somewhere in there, she mentioned how important it was to pay a living wage, not just in some far-off country, but also here at home.
In many aspects, eco-chic is not just a passing trend but is becoming a real cultural shift. It is making us rethink the value we place in our wardrobes and is redefining what success means in an industry that has long prioritized volume over veracity. It is making us remember that each and every outfit can be a statement of personal style and collective responsibility.
Following this dynamic landscape, I am continually inspired by folks who are living and doing the “new normal” of eco-chic. Their vision is my vision. And I reckon you ought to be privy to it too: The vision that says, “Style is not static.”
The fashion industry is still moving toward a sustainable future.
Each day seems to bring new developments and fresh stories that reinforce my growing sense of optimism. Whether it’s the painstaking craft of a veteran designer or the street-savvy rawness of a new label just emerged from the creative underground, each of the stories I see doesn’t merely add to a growing number of unfurling banners. It adds the very fabric of the environment with stories of style and substance and family pride.
As I recall the events and conversations that have transpired recently in my ecologically aware life, I feel pride in the being part of an industry that’s getting better at balancing the beautiful with the responsible.
0 Comments