By Iskra Lj. Marin //

We’ve all experienced it: opening a wardrobe full of clothes and still feeling like we have nothing to wear. It is one of the clearest signs of how fast fashion has reshaped our relationship with clothing. Garments that were once bought to last for years are now often purchased simply because they are trending or have just appeared on social media.

Over the past two decades, major fashion brands have moved far beyond seasonal collections. New pieces arrive weekly, sometimes daily, creating the constant impression that we are already behind the next trend. Clothing has become increasingly disposable, while the consequences of this model are anything but temporary: polluted rivers, mountains of textile waste, and factories where garments are often produced under harsh working conditions.

It is no surprise, then, that more and more people are talking about “breaking up” with fast fashion. This does not mean abandoning fashion altogether or never buying new clothes again. Rather, it is about making more conscious choices.

Before buying something new, it is worth asking a simple question: Will I actually wear this? If we are unsure in the shop whether a piece will become part of our everyday wardrobe, chances are we do not really need it. That brief moment of reflection is often enough to prevent an impulse purchase that may later end up forgotten at the back of the wardrobe.

Perhaps even more important than buying differently is rediscovering what we already own. Most wardrobes contain far more possibilities than we realise. A different combination of familiar pieces, replacing buttons, shortening a pair of trousers or giving an old coat a new lease of life can completely transform the way we dress. Repairing and altering clothes—once an ordinary part of everyday life—is quietly returning as a key practice within today’s sustainability movement.

Education matters, too. Read about how clothes are made, watch documentaries about the textile industry and listen to designers, activists and researchers working towards a more sustainable fashion system. Clothes we no longer wear can be sold or, better still, donated to someone who will genuinely use them. Every small step extends the life of a garment and reduces the demand for new production.

At the same time, second-hand shopping is no longer driven solely by necessity. Vintage shops and charity stores have become places where fashion lovers search for quality craftsmanship, natural fabrics and distinctive pieces rarely found on the high street. Ironically, this has created a new challenge in some cities, where second-hand clothing has become fashionable—and increasingly expensive. Nevertheless, buying pre-owned garments remains one of the simplest ways to reduce fashion’s environmental footprint.

There is also a common misconception worth challenging. Sustainable fashion does not mean replacing an entire wardrobe with expensive “eco” brands. The most sustainable garment is almost always the one already hanging in your wardrobe. Wearing the same jacket for ten years is far more responsible than replacing it every season, regardless of how sustainable the new purchase claims to be.

Ultimately, the most important change has little to do with clothing itself. Fast fashion has conditioned us to constantly seek something new. Sustainable fashion reminds us that our worth is not defined by what we wear, nor by the number of likes our outfit receives online, but by the values we choose to live by.

Breaking up with fast fashion does not begin in a shop. It begins the moment we realise that we do not need more things. We simply need to appreciate the ones we already have.

Editor’s note: The photographs accompanying this article were taken at Silvie Fleury’s 2024 exhibition in Rotterdam. Fleury’s work should not be understood as a straightforward rejection of fashion or a call to stop shopping. Instead, the Swiss artist uses the visual language of luxury brands and consumer culture to explore desire, identity, gender stereotypes and the relationship between art and commerce. Her work remains deliberately ambiguous—simultaneously celebrating and questioning the seductive power of fashion and consumerism.