Waste Not, Want Not
By Natalie LaBarbera
By A preemptive obituary to fashion week’s construction of destruction
When you hear the phrase “Fashion Week”, what first springs to mind? Glamour? Glitz? Parties? The bourgeoisie? Or Waste? Fashion weeks across industry capitals have long been fawned over as the most exciting, exclusive events in the fashion world. Influencers, professionals and the fashion obsessed strive to secure that elusive ticket to the most talked about show of the day. Fans clamour at the doors of venues just to get a glimpse of celebrities walking from their chauffeured black car to the entrances of staged sets or secret locations. But amidst the glitter, and single-use mini water bottles included in every goodie bag, the environmental impact of fashion week fades into the background of our crowded social media feeds.
It’s news to nobody that the fashion industry is an environmental dumpster fire, and unfortunately, empty op-eds and Instagram infographics have hardly forced change on shows littered with plastic gift bags, paper invites, and most shocking - the mass amount of transportation and temporary construction. This past September, in contrast to the minimalized digital shows and lookbooks imposed by COVID-19, the sheer excess of materials that come together to create temporary sets are laid bare.
Sets left to rot a mere 24 hours after construction serve only as a burial ground for the industry’s perished promises of sustainability. Boxes big enough to be a modest chateau en provence are left tossed across some of the most Instagrammed gardens in Paris, and fully enclosed runways are cobbled together obstructing the city’s twinkling beaux arts street lights. Surely Paris, one of the most notoriously beautiful cities in the world, is a better backdrop for collections than slapped up wood and drywall fitted with temporary lighting, no? Many designers have utilized the city’s raw space as their fashion show’s set, such as AMI Paris’s SS21 defile along the Seine, but not enough. And that’s only the runway.
There’s bits of waste permeating everywhere – scraps of fabric from last-minute fittings, paper cards featuring the inspiration of the collection, and looks on each model. These small offenses add up when combined with much larger ones, most notably the “need” to fly in models, journalists, influencers, and anyone ‘relevant enough’ to be worthy of each year’s golden ticket. Countless flights from airports across the globe add carbon emissions to the list of fashion week environmental crimes, not to mention irresponsibly prolong the spread of a crippling pandemic.
Nearly every brand participating in fashion month, whether it be in Paris, New York, Milan, or London, has procured a flowery sustainability statement on their website promising the, albeit vague, use of eco-friendly materials, recyclable packaging, circularity efforts, and responsible sourcing. Yet fashion week itself remains missing from the memo, with the exception of sustainability guidelines put forth by conglomerates Kering and LVMH, which are only mere suggestions, not requirements for the brands that fall under their umbrella.
Maybe brands felt a need to raise the bar this season considering it was a la rentrée of the industry. After nearly two years of parties and global glamour giving way to sweatpants and zoom-based everything, I’ll be the first to admit, fully digital fashion weeks are boring. There’s no way to experience the flow of the fabrics or their textures, and colors appear skewed through pixels. But what’s to be done? Toss all designers in a given city into an open field with natural light, hunger games-style, and see which designs come out on top? Or might there be a way to keep the prestige of fashion shows without squeezing the life out of our rapidly deteriorating environment?
It’s time for fashion month to cut ties with it’s traditionalist high-production value shows and embrace the creative geniuses at their disposal. No more time for wishful thinking, alluring shows in an already established location, armed with re-usable lighting, sound, and runway equipment are past due. Single-use sets constructed for 20-minute shows must become a thing of the past. Let this be an obituary to the structure of fashion show’s past, and the birth of locally cast models of all shapes and sizes, surrounded by an audience of the chicest local industry players. Designer’s notes are made digitally available and only pre-selected guests receive a gift bag, sans mini plastic disposable water bottle.
This manifesto intentionally challenges the industry’s frivolous nature, and high level brand’s DNA that codes excess into the logistical expression of fashion week. While their sales rely on the fantasy of luxury, a production of destruction does not have to be inevitable. With a boundless vat of resources available to those who occupy fashion week, it is within their full power to contribute positive change. If only the fashion industry, like your current Bumble situationship, could fully commit.
