Personal essay: Threading a fine line on fast fashion

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Most South Asians have a tin story: You reach for the tin of European butter cookies but after lifting the lid, find the inside filled with sewing supplies. This shared phenomenon has become a cultural meme, even prompting Desi-owned businesses to create their own version. 

Growing up, I would find multiple boxes and tins repurposed in our house. My mother emphasized the importance of reducing waste and increasing the longevity of materials.

But while this attitude extended to food and storage items, it was less so in the case of fashion. My family encouraged buying new clothes, be it shalwar kameez or casual wear, and God forbid I repeated an outfit! The latter point was especially stressed when it came to social events.

Over the years, this disconnect bothered me more and more. Why couldn’t my family and community see the wastefulness of overbuying clothes? Did they always hold these beliefs? After encountering devastating images of a garment disaster in South Asia, I started learning about ethical fashion. By having more conversations on the topic, I realized this was a layered issue spanning continents, personal beliefs and the somewhat taboo topic of thrifting.

A turning point: Who makes our clothes?

Rana Plaza was a turning point for many. The collapse of the 8th story garment factory on April 24th, 2013 in Dhaka, Bangladesh, killed 1,134 people. This image from the catastrophic event haunts me to this day. 

While it wasn’t the first disaster to reveal the dark underbelly of fashion supply chains, it sparked global outrage and inspired people to take notice of their consumption habits and question brands on who made their clothes. As a part of this wave, I began to educate myself on fashion’s global impact and became more conscious of what I purchased and from whom.

Before this event, I had a vague idea that something was off in the clothing I’d see in the mall. On multiple occasions, whenever my family would step into luxury or department stores, we’d see expensive garments with “Made in” tags varying between countries like China, India, Pakistan, and more. Usually, it was difficult to find garments actually made in America. 

My father would often remark, “Look at how these luxury items are made in Pakistan; it’s America’s secret.” The irony of sending brand-name clothing to our relatives in Pakistan was not lost on him. And here begins the paradox of Desis being conscious of repurposing but lacking awareness of the negative impacts of the fashion industry, especially on many countries they call home.

‘Why does it matter who made my clothes’

Last Eid al-Fitr, I wore a hand-embroidered, ethically made dress by a brand that empowers Pakistani workers, but when explaining this to others at the gathering, they didn’t get it. 

When asked about their outfits, most were unaware of where their clothes came from or who made them, or worse, they had bought them from a fast-fashion retailer.

“Why does it matter who made my clothes,” was one remark I received.

Moments like this have me screaming into the void because it is most often women in the Global South, women from the communities my family comes from, who suffer the most within the fashion ecosystem. This frustrates and grieves me, because why don’t others see this?

How can they be socially conscious in one aspect and ignorant in another?

For quite a long time, I was in a state of helplessness, until I realized that a majority of Desis were not aware of how the fashion system exploited garment workers. In an insightful conversation with my mother, she admitted that when she hears the word “fast fashion,” she thinks it means an addiction to buying new things. That made me realize that before our discussion for this article, whenever I mentioned fast fashion, she wasn’t really comprehending what I meant. No wonder she didn’t understand my passion for the topic.

Interestingly, she is aware of the corruption within garment factories and commented, “Every country has its good and bad players and at the end of the day, everyone thinks of their own benefit and profit.” When I began explaining the difference between fast fashion and ethical fashion, my mother lit up, “Ohh! I think I get it, ethical fashion is like how organic food is better for you and the planet.”

This comparison surprised me, because I’d never thought to explain it that way. 

Buying fabrics for longevity

As our conversation continued, my mother was eager to learn more about fashion justice issues and asserted that garment workers should be paid living wages. When asked about her clothing consumption habits in Pakistan versus America, she had this story to share: 

“In Pakistan, our house was near a fabric store; we were aware when new fabrics came from the factory. We would buy fabric and visit the tailor to get clothes made. This happened seasonally, and we’d have 15-20 new garments every year. Many of them we reused and wore multiple times, even passing them down to our children.

When I came to America, I read the label on clothes to see the fabric content. I would only buy clothing that had a higher percentage of natural fabrics such as wool or cotton rather than things like nylon or polyester. But mostly, I bought made-to-order clothes from Pakistan and continue to do so today.”

I was shocked to hear that she reused garments while living in Pakistan, a practice that decreased significantly after moving to America; I blame American capitalism and the severing of the made-to-order process she described.

Shifting attitudes on thrifting

While my mother isn’t aware of the ethics of brands she currently buys from, she now feels for the quality when observing clothing. To finish our conversation, I asked her the big question, “What do you think of buying second-hand?”

“I wasn’t raised with this idea, and your grandfather didn’t allow it,” she answered. I don’t know where those clothes have been or who has worn them. It’s the germ aspect that bothers me since these clothes touch my body, but it’s everyone’s personal choice and what their budget allows.”

From her response, I gauged the influence of socioeconomic factors determining the decision to buy second-hand. Yet with the rise of thrifting apps and shops, buying second-hand grows increasingly appealing, especially to younger consumers. This growth is largely influenced by the youth—as our generation faces rising costs in nearly every area from housing to food. Many of my peers and I are turning to local thrift stores and apps like Depop, Poshmark, and Deals on Designers to still look good without breaking the bank. Personally, the second-hand pieces in my closet carry their own stories, and I’m appreciative to be part of their history.

I’m grateful for the insight my mother provided, but I wondered if others from her generation felt the same. Iynul Rizwan, a mother and proud Sri Lankan, has a new vision to offer South Asians. “As a community, the concept of sustainable fashion hasn’t sunk in properly,” she shares, “We practice it best through hand-me-downs and donating.” 

Last year, Iynul worked with a mosque in Lawrence Township to collect clothing for flood victims in Pakistan. Among the collection, she noticed exquisite bridal wear, jewelry, and formal ensembles. Surprised that people were willing to part with fancier clothes, she decided to survey the mosque community about their views on thrifting. The survey revealed a high stigma, “People love donating and selling but do not pay money to thrift,” she commented.

Expanding the survey beyond religious lines, one conclusive finding was around age, she said, noting, “Gen Z did not understand the stigma against thrifting, while millennials and older generations were horrified by it.”

Taking her research, Iynul is now working on developing a second-hand clothing business, similar to ThredUp, but specifically for the South Asian community. Desi’s Trunk is expected to launch this summer, and it will serve as a platform for individuals to sell clothing, encouraging thrifting within the NJ South Asian community and beyond. 

“Climate change is a huge factor for us,” Inyul refers to the sinking of Sri Lanka due to rising sea levels. She hopes to increase the community’s awareness of sustainable living, and her business venture is a step towards that direction.

Change takes time and care

As a writer, I’m not only sharing my thoughts but learning as I go. Before writing this article, I had anxiety that South Asians would get left behind in discourses on sustainable fashion. From experience, I know this is an uncomfortable topic in our community because many people are either unaware of how the fast fashion system works or feel like you are personally attacking them.

For me, being able to put a face behind the clothing I wear allows me to cherish the humanity behind what I consume. It’s this connection that the profit-chasing capitalist system has severed.

Next time you are shopping for new clothes, pause and take a moment to think of the hands the garment passed through before making its way to you.

Changes don’t happen overnight. It takes time to shift a mindset that exists not just in our community but in the larger world. My mother said it best, “If you buy something, take care of it. Even a cheap thing can last a long time and even expensive things can have a short lifespan.”

That’s what it comes down to, honoring what we own. Not everyone has the means to buy ethically made clothing, but the least we can do is take care of what we have. This can mean mending, tailoring or getting creative with your closet; I’ve begun a project with a tailor to rework my mother’s clothes to fit my style. I want to take her story with me through what I wear.

I believe in our resilience and determination to lean into the things we care about. The conversations I had in the process of writing this article have imparted me with hope that others in our community are working towards a better future for all—be it one tin, one garment, or an article at a time.

Resources to share:

AWAJ Foundation - Protecting garment workers’ rights in Bangladesh
Remake - Founded by a South Asian Woman
Good On You - Rating tool for brand practices
Slow Factory Open Edu - Free, accessible climate education
Fashion Revolution - Global Fashion Advocacy & Data Group
What She Makes - Learn directly from garment workers

Ifrah Akhtar is a reporting fellow for Central Desi.

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