The Baksa Project

Picking up the threads: How we can help sustain artisan communities in the absence of craft markets in a post-pandemic world

Crafts, Ethical Fashion, Vocal for Local8

Includes a list of websites to buy from and funds to donate to.

One of my life’s earliest memories is of this little cantonment town named Nasirabad in Rajasthan. In the year 1995, while my father, an Indian Army officer was on field serving his country, my mother was serving her creative avocations right in the heartland of Indian crafts. She personally oversaw the making of her precious collection of wooden furniture and decor pieces adorned with miniature Kishangarh paintings. She carefully handpicked exquisite Rajasthani hand-embroidered clothes, bags, and juttis from tiny boutiques in narrow lanes of Ajmer. The starry-eyed five-year-old me fell in love with it all. 

Growing up, we moved towns every two years, and travelled extensively. One of the greatest perks of this life of constant movement and change was an early exposure to unique Indian crafts and cultures. Visiting local craft melas became a customary summertime activity. It was the perfect destination to shop, eat, socialise or quite simply marvel at the exquisite handiwork of artisans from across various pockets of the country. 

In India, the presence of melas and haats spansacross several centuries, and, over time, they have become highly effective distribution channels for traditional crafts. While melas are often held seasonally, annually, or around religious festivals, haats are more regular in nature. These open markets offer a great platform for buyers (especially tourists) and artisans to connect directly, often resulting in long-term associations. 

To a great extent, the popularity of these traditional craft distribution formats lies in the buying experience. The ability to touch and feel a product, to learn first-hand about its making process and to see the hands that intricately crafted it — all of it adds to the charm of owning something handmade. 

The e-commerce boom over the last decade has helped craftsmen take their creations to audiences across wider geographies. Websites like Jaypore, Gaatha and The India Craft House work directly with artisans specialising in varied craft forms from different parts of rural India. The online format seems to benefit both, craftsmen looking for a steadier income source and diverse markets to sell, as well as global consumers with no easy access to traditional Indian crafts.

The impact of the ongoing COVID-19 crisis on the Indian craft industry has been extremely severe. Already having borne the brunt of demonetisation and the imposition of GST, the industry, comprising mostly of small-scale producers, is among the worst hit by the pandemic. In an article published in The Wire, Laila Tyabji, founding member and chairperson of Dastkar, a Delhi-based NGO working towards supporting craftspeople and the revival of traditional Indian crafts, points out that a major change in how Indian crafts are marketed is underway. “The future of traditional crafts markets and bazaars is bleak. Going online is inevitable”, she affirms. 

In the visual world we live in today, platforms like Instagram have worked wonders in unfurling compelling stories about traditional crafts and craftspeople. The India Craft Project is one such account that presents visual features of unique Indian craft forms and the artisans sustaining their legacy. In October last year, Google Arts and Culture, Incredible India, and the Dastkari Haat Samiti launched a digital exhibit called, Crafted in India. It is a virtual repository of visually delightful and emotionally rousing stories on crafts and craftsmanship. The platform gives us an authentic, almost lifelike experience of India’s cultural and artistic diversity. In times like now, such outlets serve as a window into the magnificent world of Indian craft — at least until our much-adored melas and haats are back in full swing. 

Many Indian craft forms have been dying a slow death for a while now, and the pandemic, if anything, has only aggravated the situation. Now, more than ever, it’s imperative that we revisit the ideals of Swadeshi that our nation was built on. Without us empowering our artisans, without them raising a new generation of craftspeople, we are at the risk of losing our glorious heritage and artistic legacy — the very essence of “Incredible India”.

Let’s all do our bit to support our artisan communities. Let’s all be Vocal for Local crafts.

Here is a list of e-commerce websites to support Indian crafts and craftspeople:

Here is a list of funds to support Indian artisans:

Kindly note: These are not exhaustive lists. Please do share the names of other brands and funds to help support artisans in the comments below.

Crafting Resistance: How Contemporary Craftivists are Using Their Handiwork to Voice Dissent

Craftivism, Crafts, Politics, Pop Culture4

“Spin. Spin with full understanding. Let those who spin wear khadi. Let those who wear khadi compulsorily spin. Full understanding means the realisation that spinning symbolises non-violence. Reflect on it. It will become apparent.” – Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, Sevagram, March 28, 1945

Back in the early 1920s, in pre-independence India, MK Gandhi had devised a sartorial strategy to non-violently revolt against the colonial rule. Spearheading the Swadeshi movement was the understated khadi, and, the charkha (wheel), that spun khadi, became the nation’s symbol of unity, self-reliance, empowerment, and liberation. It represented the end of dependence on foreign material, and khadi became “the livery of India’s freedom”, in the words of Jawaharlal Nehru.

Gandhi’s politicisation of craft — using it as a mode of protest against British imperialism, was instrumental in unifying Indians in their fight for freedom, both in form and spirit. This was perhaps our country’s earliest known forms of ‘craftivism.’ 

Craftivism: Then and Now

Coined by writer Betsy Greer in 2003, the term craftivism “promotes the symbiotic relationship between craft and activism”. As a concept, craftivism isn’t new, even though the term may have garnered mainstream recognition only since the turn of the 21st century. In the early 20th century, British suffragettes used handiwork techniques like embroidery, fabric appliqué and collages to create decorated banners amplifying   powerful messages about feminist issues. In the latter half of the century, Argentinian women started a campaign to protest the disappearance of their children during the military dictatorship that started in 1976. The Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo (Madres de Plaza de Mayo) wore white head scarves embroidered with the names and the date of births of their lost children; the shape of the scarf symbolising baby diapers, and the colour white symbolising peace.

Today, craftivists all around the world stand to challenge the politics of capitalism, social injustice, terrorism, fast fashion, climate change, and misogyny, using creativity as a weapon of peaceful resistance. 

In the United States, the 2017 Women’s March saw a sea of protesters wearing pink hats as a symbol of solidarity against Donald Trump’s sexist and offensive comments on women. Started by Krista Suh and Jayna Zweiman, the Pussyhat Project movement called on knitters, crocheters, and sewists to craft pink “pussyhats” that went on to become a  major material cultural phenomenon across America.

In Makassar, Indonesia, artist Fitriani Dalay is well-known for her work in yarn-bombing — an art form that involves decorating objects or structures in public spaces with knitted or crocheted yarn or fiber. She uses her art as a tool for political commentary, focussing on concerns like women’s safety and consumerism. 

Recently, the Anti-CAA and NRC protests held across India, had protesters use the traditional Indian art form of rangoli to design messages resisting the discriminatory laws. Some protesters painted calligraphy of revolutionary poetry on scarves.

In Melbourne, Australia, artist, researcher, craftivist, and community development worker, Tal Fitzpatrick, runs multiple community craftivist projects around the themes of “social, political and environmental justice”. She uses the techniques of quilting and patchwork as modes of rebellion. 

These are some of the many ways in which craft — an activity traditionally dismissed as a trivial pastime for lonely women, is being used to spark important, meaningful, and actionable conversations for a better, more equal world.

The Effectiveness of Craftivism as Tool of Dissent and Action

During the second-wave of feminism, several women rejected domestic crafts like knitting and sewing, for being “apolitical, conservative, and mundane.” Craft scholar, Kirsty Robertson, in her essay titled, “Rebellious Doilies and Subversive Stitches,” in Extra/Ordinary: Craft and Contemporary Art, points out how craft’s role in the history of activism is “often trumped by a need to quash still-perpetuated, gendered, stereotypes of crafting.” She further argues that craftivism is often criticised not just on the level of gender, but for also being passive and futile.

The ethos of craftivism are that of “gentle resistance”, but that doesn’t mean the efforts are ineffective. In the U.K., in 2015, Sarah Corbett and her community of craftivists at Craftivist Collective presented the board members of Marks & Spencer personalised, hand-embroidered handkerchiefs, urging them to pay their staff a living wage. Moved by the campaign, within less than a year, M&S had made an announcement to fairly pay its workers.

In several parts of the world like India and Palestine, the slow craft movement intrinsically helps preserve a region’s culture and heritage, while also providing employment and financial opportunities to many skilled artisans. It resists the paradigm of mass-production that hugely contributes to environmental damage and labour exploitation. 

One of my earliest encounters with the craftivist movement was in the summer of 2018, right about the time I had decided to give up fast fashion for good. It was then that I came across the wonderful work of Bryony Porter, popularly known by her Instagram handle, Tickover. Her work focusses on “exposing the fashion industry” through embroidery as a medium. She tells me that she believes embroidery to be an effective means of activism because it is tangible. “Thread has a rich history of conveying messages, and it’s as quick as picking up a needle and immortalising what you stand for. It carries with it emotion, love, care, and anger. It’s a political act that doesn’t demand perfection, that is inherently human. It contradicts the fast and unappreciative nature of social media, and has depth in its ability to raise awareness by sparking thought and conversation.”, says Porter.

In the current turbulent political climate globally, people are widely protesting for correction and justice. From the Black Lives Matter movement in the West to protests against the discriminatory conduct and policies of India’s ruling political party, it stands to reason that this is the era of dissent. The message is loud and clear — “We will not be silenced!”

But if one is still struggling to find their voice, craft might be the tool they’ve been looking for.

Some more craftivists and craftivist groups you must know about: Chawne Kimber, Hannah Hill, The Yarn Mission, Cat Mazza, Gina Adams, Badass Cross Stitch, Coronavirus masks and craftivism

A Stitch in Time: Lessons in Sustainability From India’s History

Crafts, Sustainable Fashion10

My love affair with clothes started early. 

I don’t exactly remember when, though I do remember the first garment I was deeply enamoured by. It was my mother’s shiny black velvet kurta that was adorned with bugs embroidered in gold zari and iridescent sequins. She always wore it with a dull-gold raw silk Patiala salwaar and looked nothing short of a vision. This kurta, that was so dear to my mother, only saw the light of day once a year on New Years eve. It was her version of the loyal, timeless, and ever-flattering little black dress.

As much as I loved seeing this exquisite outfit on my mother, I yearned for the day the kurta would be handed down to me. Growing up, hand-me-downs constituted a substantial portion of my wardrobe. From my elder brother’s baggy sweaters that he’d outgrown, to my aunt’s flowy old dresses, my current eclectic aesthetic is a product of the mishmash of prints, patterns and styles that I grew up wearing. 

I have never known to look at clothes as disposable commodities. In my home, as in most Indian households, clothes that wore out were cut up into kitchen towels and wipes, used for dusting and mopping. Clothes that were in decent condition, but which no one wore anymore found their way to people in need. 

This was my first experience of ‘sustainability’ years before I even knew and understood what the word meant.

Sartorial sentimentality: Emotional significance of clothes in the Indian culture

Historically speaking, ours is a country where our relationship with clothes is largely driven by emotion rather than function alone. For centuries, major cultural events such as religious festivals and life-cycle rituals have been associated with gifting and wearing new garments, thus rendering them sentimental value. During the Swadeshi movement, the khadi became an emotional symbol of national assertion against the British Raj. During partition, the clothes that people carried across the border, became few of the only tangible memories of their homeland. 

In her book, Recycling Indian Clothing, Global Contexts of Reuse and Value, author Lucy Noris establishes how Indian wardrobes are largely made up of “rarely worn wedding saris, piles of unworn gifts, favourite clothes that are past their best, and unsuitable and unwanted garments” owing to the emotional attachment the wearer has with these garments.

Patching pieces of the past: The art of repurposing textiles in India

Much before the Hindi term jugaad became the buzzword that it is today, Indian women had mastered the quintessential desi art of frugal reinvention — of ‘upcycling’ old clothes into exquisite, one-of-a-kind new textiles. For a long time, the act of recycling and repurposing old clothes has been a means for Indians to preserve their history while also being thrifty. Furthermore, many Indian states have made a thriving business out of repurposing old clothes using craft techniques unique to their culture. 

In the eastern Indian states of West Bengal, Assam, Orissa, and Bihar, the technique of kantha embroidery is used to patch together old bits of textiles, and turn them into unique furnishings and wearables. Various tribes across the states of Gujarat and Rajasthan use the techniques of patchwork, embroidery, and mirror work to create vibrantly adorned works of wearable art using old fabrics. In Jammu and Kashmir, the nomadic Bakkarwal and Gujjar tribes embroider old felt blankets using acrylic yarn and convert them into colourful rugs. They also make intricately embroidered caps, bags and accessories using old fabrics. The  famous hand-stitched Godhadi patchwork quilts of Maharashtra and Goa are made using old sarees and dhotis.

Spotlight on sustainability: Fashion’s green agenda

Sustainability is now a crucial point of discussion and focus for the fashion industry, with discerning consumers increasingly demanding brands to be kinder and fairer to their workers and the planet. In wake of the coronavirus pandemic, even as fashion brands are struggling to stay afloat, sustainability will remain an important agenda. A recent Business of Fashion article quotes global luxury group, Kering’s Head of Sustainability, Marie-Claire Daveu. “In times of crisis, it’s more and more important to show you can run a good business and at the same time protect people and the environment for the long run. Profit and purpose are not fighting.”, says Daveu.

Critics of sustainable fashion bash it for being an elitist idea that the common man cannot buy into, both literally and metaphorically. However, if history is proof of anything, it is that our ancestors have been great proponents of reusing and repurposing — the pillars of conscious consumption. This was a way of life for them long before it became fashionable. They have taught us to make the best of what we have, and, in doing so, have helped us discover and retain bits and pieces of our own past. 

In 2018, when I married and moved out of my family home, my mother sent with me a large trunk of gorgeous heirloom garments — clothes that belonged to her, my grandmother and my great grandmother. I searched eagerly in it for that velvet kurta, but couldn’t find it. I immediately asked my mom, and she told me she hadn’t seen it in a while, and would look for it. 

I still haven’t been able to get my hands on that precious kurta, but I am happy to wait for it. 

Of all of my mother’s clothes that are now bequeathed to me, that will be the most special. It reminds me of the reason I fell in love with clothes. It was never about the trends or the labels; it was about feeling and emotion. It was about beauty and wonder. It was about creativity and expression. 

And these are really the things that money can’t buy — they’re priceless.

Hanging by a Thread: The Lost Art of Making (and Making Do)

Crafts, Slow Fashion6

As society looks at most objects as easily replaceable and disposable, the act of making and mending helps us appreciate the value of the things we own.

A couple of months ago, my husband and I were talking about what our respective lives in school were like. Amidst the banter about (him) giving teachers sleepless nights and (me) messing up grades in pursuit of first love, we came to talk about craft classes, aka SUPW. My husband joked about the pointlessness of the subject, whereas I was of a completely different view. I used to adore those classes! They offered a much-needed breather from the anguish math lessons caused me. They allowed me to use my newfound skills to make pretty things I could proudly claim sole ownership over. They often even let me colour outside the lines and create stuff that was offbeat and whimsical. 

My love for ‘making’ stemmed from a habit that I cultivated very early on in life. Thanks to my mother, at the start of every summer vacation since my 8th birthday, I was presented with the task of completing a creative project by the time holidays ended. Sometimes, it was cross-stitch embroidery, sometimes, stained glass paintings — you’d often find me holed up quietly in a corner with my head bent over for hours on end, intently focussed on bringing this thing of beauty to life. My mother also taught me basic hand mends. By age 11, I could masterfully sew on buttons, fix holes in my Barbie’s dresses and do some rudimentary embroidery that would go on to adorn the walls of our house.

Over the years, I succumbed to the changing ways of the world where hustle culture leaves little room for  one to revel in leisure activities like slow handwork. I began losing touch with my creative universe that once brought me so much joy. I could no longer get myself to sit in one place and indulge in slow craft — there were more important, more ‘productive’ things to do.  

It appears that for a lot of people, self-worth is tied to busyness and hustle. According to a 2017 research paper published in the Journal of Consumer Research, “a busy and overworked lifestyle, rather than a leisurely lifestyle, has become an aspirational status symbol.” As such, the art of making things for the sheer sake of pleasure is dying out. Furthermore, the consumerist society we’re in has made the purchasability and subsequent replaceability of things so easy that the idea of making things by hand seems unnecessary.

In his book titled, ‘The Case for Working with Your Hands’, author Matthew Crawford brings to light the aforementioned shift in our relationship with things — the things “people once made, they buy, and what they once fixed for themselves, they replace entirely.”, argues Crawford. The latter part of Crawford’s argument especially holds true when it comes to fast fashion fuelling a rampant culture of disposability. Last year, fashion and beauty writer, Esther Adams Achara, wrote a personal essay for Vogue.com where she narrated an incident where her 5-year-old daughter tore her new jeans while playing and responded with a nonchalant — “Never mind, mom. You can just buy a new pair on your laptop.”

Activities like sewing, embroidery, knitting, crocheting, and darning that were once considered essential life-skills, and were passed down through generations, are today looked at as unique art forms only known and practised by a few. Art and craft subjects that require kids to channel their creative energies and work with their hands are on the verge of disappearing from school curriculums worldwide.

It may seem that handiwork is losing its relevance in this day and age, but there is plenty of evidence in its favour. Last year, an article published in The New York Times reported a sharp decline in the manual dexterity of medical students and residents, attributing it to their over-dependence on technology rather than handiwork that helps develop fine-motor skills. Researchers have also found the psychological benefits of working with hands as it helps “engage the brain and alleviate anxiety.” 

A year and a half ago, fresh out of fashion school and bursting with ideas, I decided to start working on a  slow fashion project that helps me reconnect with my family’s material memory and my love for making. This is how The Baksa Project came into being. 

Working with my hands, I have come to realise, is a calming, almost meditative experience for me. It’s when I feel the most in control and absolutely free at the same time. Most importantly, as the throw-away society we’re in looks at objects as easily disposable commodities, the slow and intricate act of making makes me value and (re)love the things I have all the more! 

An Illustrated Guide to Caring for Your Vintage and Second-Hand Garments

Second-Hand, Sustainable Fashion, Vintage Fashion6

A mindful fashion purchase is great; what’s better is a conscious effort to make it last!

As consumers are becoming increasingly aware of the environmental impact of fast fashion, second-hand and vintage clothing is becoming the preferred choice for many shoppers.

Over the past year, a number of Instagram shops selling one-of-a-kind curated vintage and second-hand apparel have popped up in India. While this is great news for conscious shoppers with budget constraints, it’s equally important that we care for these garments well so as to increase their lifespan.

Here’s an illustrated guide to help:

As Vague(n) as it Gets: The Truth Behind What Brands Call “Vegan” Leather and Fur

Ethical Fashion, Sustainable Fashion, Vegan Fashion8

As the spotlight on sustainability and ethics continues to shine, several apparel and accessory brands vie for a piece of the green pie by misusing vegan terminology in their brand messaging.

An excerpt from the brand story of Baggit, one of India’s most well-known bag and accessory label reads the following:

“SUSTAINABLE BRAND – Society has provided essential nourishment to flourish into the brand we are today. Hence, it is always at the crest of our priorities. We deliver quality bags that are made of cruelty-free material. This sense of awareness capacitated us to lead a clean process which received the PETA award.” 

The ‘cruelty-free’, PETA-certified material that Baggit is referring to is polyurethane leather (colloquially known as pleather) — a synthetic form of leather that is created by applying a liquid PU coating onto a fabric backing. To render polyurethane liquid requires a solvent that is often highly toxic. It is also important to note that PU leather has a considerably shorter lifecycle than genuine leather. It wears out rather quickly, often making it unusable. Furthermore, once dumped, PU leather takes about a hundred years to biodegrade. As such, nothing about the material that Baggit uses seems “sustainable”, like it claims.  

Vegan, sustainable, ethical, eco-friendly — each of these terms fall under the umbrella of conscious consumerism. In common parlance, they are often (erroneously) used interchangeably, especially by marketers, for their own benefit.  

One of the most commonly used terms in the above context is ‘vegan leather’ — a phrase that a number of fashion apparel and accessory brands are irresponsibly using to market faux or synthetic leather products, which are primarily made with polyurethane (PU) or polyvinyl chloride (PVC). According to Greenpeace, PVC is the “single most environmentally damaging of all plastics”. It is responsible for releasing toxic substances including phthalates, BPA and cancer-causing dioxins, throughout its lifespan. 

Although efforts by brands like Stella McCartney to reduce the negative impact of their synthetic leather products on the environment are worth acknowledging, the damage continues to be significant. And, the fact still remains that most brands that boast of producing vegan leather do it the conventional, unsustainable way.

Another material that appeals to animal-activists and fashion enthusiasts alike but has questionable sustainability credentials is vegan or faux fur. In the recent past, many luxury conglomerates that include the likes of Versace, Gucci, Jimmy Choo, Furla Armani, and Michael Kors vowed to go fur-free due to ethical considerations. Most of these brands, if not all, continue to use faux fur, purporting it to be the more conscious alternative. Faux fur is generally made from acrylic, which is petroleum-based and causes a lot of pollution during its production. Moreover, it also releases microfibers when washed which often find their way into the ocean and end up poisoning it. According to a 2016 study published in Marine Pollution Bulletin, over 700,000 fibres could be released from an average 6 kg wash load of acrylic fabric. Faux fur, like synthetic leather too, is non-biodegradable. 

When a brand brags about it being vegan, it doesn’t mean much unless it also expressly talks about the alternative fabrics it is using and how its manufacturing process incorporates sustainability. For instance, when Baggit makes claims of being vegan and sustainable, while sharing zero information on its material and production process, what it is doing is unethical and pure greenwashing.

I don’t support animal cruelty and absolutely acknowledge the environmental consequences that come with animal trade, but there’s a general notion that anything and everything cruelty-free is sustainable which is false and misleading. Leather and fur, whether real or faux, both come at significant ethical and environmental costs. 

So, as responsible consumers, what choices are we left with? The most prudent one is to shop these products second hand or vintage, if at all, and care for them well so they don’t end up in landfills. And, if you really do want to treat yourself to that new leather bag, you can opt for sustainable vegan leather options that are available. Piñatex is a plant-based leather made from sustainably-sourced pineapple fibre. It contains no harmful chemicals. A Big Indian Story is India’s first brand to offer products made out of Piñatex. Malai, a Kerala-based startup has created biocomposite material with waste coconut water that has a similar feel and texture to leather. Arture, a Chennai-based brand of bags, wallets and travel accessories uses 100% natural cork fabric which is both, an ethical and sustainable substitute to leather. 

The issues of sustainability and ethics are rather complex. When it comes to fashion, what ‘green’ encompasses still remains a grey area and brands take undue advantage of the same. 

The next time a brand makes a vague claim about being vegan, make sure you first educate yourself about its raw-materials and production process rather than going on face value. Their word may be as faux as their leather.

The Aesthetic of Resistance: Do Protest Tees Actually Benefit the Causes They Represent?

Politics, Pop Culture9

Fashion can be an important vehicle to steer change as long as it doesn’t stop at T-shirt activism.

It was at the Spring 2017 Paris Fashion Week showcase in September 2016, that Maria Grazia Chiuri, the then newly appointed, and the first ever female artistic director at Dior, presented her debut collection for the house. The collection’s army of romantic dresses in tulle and lace were, in every sense of the word, “feminine” — an aesthetic that has been Dior’s signature since its inception. What came to define the pulse of the show, and Dior’s stance for several seasons to follow was, however, a white slogan tee that read, “WE SHOULD ALL BE FEMINISTS” — the title of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s TED talk and book.

Soon after this statement tee made its runway debut, the rest of the fashion world saw a ripple effect as perhaps a response to the era’s tumultuous political climate. In the following (fashion) season, designers Prabal Gurung and Christian Siriano showcased similar slogan tees with politicised messages like, “People are people”, “I am an immigrant”, “Revolution has no borders” and “The future is female.” From celebrity soirees to high streets, protest (slogan) tees seemed to have cultivated fashion’s “it” trend status, consequently trickling down to fast fashion stores around the world, a space where their popularity continues to soar.

The History of Protest Tees

To think that it’s only the troubled political scenario of present times that has inspired fashion to speak out is far from true. Fashion has almost always been intertwined with politics. T-shirts, specifically, have long served as a powerful canvas for political messaging. Back in 1977, queen of punk, Vivienne Westwood, with her partner Malcolm McLaren, created what was possibly one of their most controversial pieces — a shirt with a red Nazi swastika, an inverted crucifixion, along with the words “DESTROY” and the lyrics of the Sex Pistols song, ‘Anarchy in the U.K’. In the 80s’, Katharine Hamnett, with the launch of her brand of political slogan T-shirts, became the forerunner of a culture of resistance. Some of her creations include, “Choose Life”, “Save the Sea”, “Make Poverty History”, the iconic, “58% don’t want Pershing” T-shirt that she wore to meet Margaret Thatcher in 1984, and, more recently, “Cancel Brexit”. 

Feminism Becomes Fashionable

One of the best modern-day examples of how a political movement has turned into a fashionable pop-culture phenomenon is feminism. Historically speaking, feminism, as Andi Zeisler, author of the book, ‘We Were Feminists Once’, describes, was thought to be “the realm of the angry, the cynical, the man-hating, and the off-puttingly hairy”. Today, feminism has become trendy and cool. Zeisler attributes this to what she calls “marketplace feminism” — “branding feminism as an identity that everyone can and should consume.” We now have the likes of H&M, Forever 21 and She-in cashing on the trend with their feminist tees (and jewellery, socks, tote bags…the list goes on). Let’s not forget that these brands with their merchandise emblazoned with catchphrases about women empowerment are the same ones that have society’s poorest women working for them in sweatshop conditions at extremely low wages.

Commercialising Social Issues

Using fashion as a medium for expression, whether personal or political, is an individual choice, and, history is proof that it has effectively given the silenced and the marginalised a voice. However, the commercialisation of social movements in today’s image-obsessed culture comes with the risk of important messages getting reduced to Instagrammable moments; a fact that creators are very well-aware of. In an interview with Grazia magazine, Hamnett, on being asked whether political fashion faces the danger of becoming gimmicky, said — “It’s definitely cool to look as if you care.” 

Brands today are increasingly using “woke-washing” tactics to appear socially conscious, and to appeal to the millennial and Gen Z market. It’s eventually left on us consumers to judge the legitimacy of their claims. It is left on us to call them out when they vaguely state that they are “dedicating a percentage of proceeds from each sale” to a noble cause — we would really like to know what percentage.

This isn’t to suggest that protest tees are all a sham. We know that protest dressing can spark a debate about important world issues. Protest dressing can even spur positive change. But as long as it doesn’t come with an essential follow-through on the message, it isn’t protest; it’s merely a great photo-op.

Garb, Not Garbage: Why Minimising Your Wardrobe is Not Always the Most Sustainable Choice

Maximalism, Sustainable Fashion10

By getting rid of your old clothes, you’re doing the environment more damage than good.

If you are reading this, I would assume that you dedicate a reasonable amount of your day’s time to the internet, and must be well-conversant with what is ubiquitous in pop culture. And, if that assumption holds true, off late, you’ve quite certainly come across a post (or many) by someone you know, KonMari-ing their way to a clutter-free wardrobe and home.

Ever since the release of the Netflix documentary, ‘Tidying up with Marie Kondo’ in January, this year, there’s a sudden surge in people’s urge to purge (erm sorry, but the rhyme was just too tempting). Every other person seems to be on a mission to shake-up their home with the objective of identifying the things that “spark joy” and breaking ties with the rest. 

Full disclaimer: I have neither read Kondo’s book nor watched her documentary. I have, however, read several articles, think pieces and critiques that followed the KonMari mania to grasp the gist of her mantra and deduce that it only focusses on giving individuals a temporary sense of accomplishment and high, while completely disregarding what happens after. 

“Keep only those things that speak to your heart. Then take the plunge and discard all the rest. By doing this, you can reset your life and embark on a new lifestyle”, writes Kondo. This statement, no matter how well-intentioned, reeks of indifference and mindlessness, and gives more power to the same disposability culture that drives people to shop for things they don’t necessarily need, just because they’re cheap (and dispensable). 

Also, where does all this “discarded” stuff finally end up? If not in the hands of someone needy, it most likely ends up clogging landfills. Nope. The environment already has a lot baggage to take on another “30 bags” of stuff you’ve suddenly realised doesn’t spark joy in your life anymore.

In the midst of this ongoing conversation about the wonders of minimal living that the likes of Marie Kondo have spurred, there also seems to be a growing idea of how living with less means living sustainably. The concept of ‘Capsule Wardrobes’ that many sustainable fashion advocates swear by is also a product of this ideology. While I absolutely agree that it is important to circulate and re-wear the clothes you have, as much as possible, what I don’t quite agree with is that, to do so, you have to “reduce your closet”.

When you decide to let your wardrobe comprise of only 20 pieces, you also have the responsibility to think about what to do with the rest of the clothes you own that didn’t make the cut as your capsule wardrobe staples.

Proponents of capsule and minimalist wardrobes may argue that they don’t let their unwanted clothes go to trash; they donate them, and, thereby, help people in need. According to an article by Scienceline, contrary to popular belief, donated clothes very rarely end up benefitting people within the community, especially in Western nations. 

I have personally also begun to feel slightly conflicted about the idea of donating old clothes. I lost my grandfather last year, and, after he passed, we reasonably decided to donate all his clothes to an old-age home a family friend told us about. On reaching the old age home, we were informed by the neighbours that institution had moved to a new address, and, on seeing the huge bags of clothes in our hands, they politely advised us against donating clothes to them since they had often seen them burn the clothes that they were given because they already had so much. 

I suspect this to be a practice many such institutions follow for the same reason — supply is greater than the demand. 

So then, what is the best way to deal with the clothes one doesn’t need anymore? Here are some tips:

– Hand down: Often when you donate your old clothes, you don’t really know where or how they’re eventually going to end up. It is always better to personally give them to someone you know will use and care for them. Alternatively, reach out to institutions that are trustworthy and transparent about how they handle donations. Goonj is a highly credible NGO you can approach for donations. They have collection centres all across India. Clothes Box Foundation uses social media to connect the donor of the clothes with the recipient. This way, you exactly know who your old clothes are benefitting. 

– Use them as DIY supplies: Old clothes can make excellent raw materials for a variety of DIY projects. T-shirt rugs, memory quilts, cushion covers, the possibilities of what you can create using your worn-out clothes are endless. 

– Swap or sell: I have written about swapping and selling old clothes in some of my previous posts, and I truly do think it is one of the most effective (and rewarding) ways you can extend the lifespan of your clothes. Keep an eye out for local clothing swap events or organise one among your circle of friends. 

Regardless of whether you identify as a minimalist or maximalist, what’s important to know and remember is that sustainability is not about how much or how little you own but about how well you use what you already own. It’s not just about buying less, but also about wasting less.

So no, Ms. Marie Kondo, I disagree when you say that my shirt has reached the end of its life just because its button fell off. Watch me care, repair and re-wear.

“What’s in it For Me?”: Unpacking Sustainable Fashion’s Value Proposition for the ‘Millennial’

Marketing, Millennials, Sustainable Fashion18

In the context of sustainable fashion, greater good does not have to compete with self-interest.

Millennials. A lot is constantly written and said about us. We are the subject of several research studies and have marketers obsessing over how our unique brains are wired, trying to decipher trends in our behaviour. We are also touted to be a socially conscious generation; a generation that cares about ethical and sustainable causes, and drives brands to be more responsible and transparent about their practices. 

Yes, we are well-informed, mindful and woke, but does that reflect on our purchase decisions? 

Findings suggest not. And it’s not because we don’t have our heart in the right place.

Last year, Business of Fashion had published an opinion piece on how there’s a gap between millennials’ positive sentiments towards sustainability vis-à-vis their purchase patterns, attributing the same to lack of “product availability and clear marketing”. Most sustainable fashion brands we have today rarely meet an average millennial’s purchase criteria, whether it’s in terms of price, value or aesthetics.

Catherine, a 22-year-old forensic science student and part-time content writer from Bangalore, India, echoes similar views. “I feel there is a lack of availability of sustainable fashion in India. Other countries have a larger selection to choose from. Also, the options that we have available are very expensive with neutral colour palettes that are not appealing at all.”, she says. 

A few weeks ago, while browsing through Instagram, a story that my friend had posted caught my attention. It was a screenshot of a post from SSS Magazine’s Instagram page; a quote by Moses Koul, a 26-year-old musician, sharing his views on sustainable fashion (appended below). 

Source: Instagram

People like Moses and Catherine belong to a group of young individuals who are motivated to make mindful fashion decisions but feel restricted because they see a paucity of sustainable options that are accessible and aesthetically pleasing.

And, I don’t disagree.There surely is a gap. However, I still believe we have solutions if we are willing to try. 

I recently came across a very useful guide by sustainability consultants BSR and Futerra titled, ‘Selling Sustainability’. Although the guide is meant for marketers, being someone who advocates for sustainable fashion, it gave me a lot of great takeaways.

The guide pointed out something very important and put all what I’d read on this subject in perspective — today, most sustainability marketing only sells sustainability. What it taps on, like Koul pointed out, is the consumers’ guilt, and what it gives them is only a temporary feel-good factor. It doesn’t do more than that and it should. Because, there truly is much more to it.

Based on my learnings from the guide, I will attempt and break down sustainable fashion’s value proposition for the millennial consumer — tell you what is really in it for you:

Functional Benefits

– Earn and Save Money – One of the biggest apprehensions most people have about sustainable fashion is that it is not affordable. 

While it’s true that sustainable and ethical fashion labels are expensive in comparison to fast fashion brands, they are so owing to several factors ranging from the cost of raw materials these brands use, to the higher wages they pay their workers. 

If you feel like the price of sustainable fashion brands is what holds you back from making mindful fashion choices, you can still opt for sustainable clothing options that are not heavy on the pocket at all. Vintage, thrifted and second hand clothing is sustainable as well as economical. Instagram brands like carols.shop and redempress.label sell affordable and exclusive vintage pieces from all over the world. Websites like kiabza.com,  coutloot.com and theluxurycloset.com both, buy and sell second hand clothing where you can even make some bucks in exchange for your old clothes and accessories. 

Emotional Benefits

– Explore Your Creative Side – What do you do with a pair of jeans that’s had a little tear? What about a shirt you burned while ironing? Chances are that you either throw such clothes away or turn them into dust rags. 

With techniques like visible mending, darning, embroidery and textile collage, you can use your creativity to mend and upcycle your old and damaged clothes; perhaps, make them even better than they were, originally.  There are several Instagram accounts where you can find upcycling tutorials and mending inspiration. My personal favourites include katrinarodabaug,  tickover and mindful_mending.

– Connect With Your Roots – I quite often wonder why there are so few narratives that touch upon the link between sustainable fashion and nostalgia. For me, the greatest thing about choosing sustainable fashion is that it has helped me connect with my past through material memory. Whether it is my dad’s old shirt or my grandfather’s old houndstooth blazer or my great grandmother’s old Ikat saree, each one of these garments have wonderful stories attached to them that, by virtue of my choices, I have had the privilege of learning and carrying forward.

Social Benefits

– Be a Part of a Mindful Community – Someone who has little knowledge about sustainable fashion may find it a tad bit overwhelming, perhaps even intimidating to venture into the space. I, for one, had several inhibitions when I began my journey with The Baksa Project. 

In the past couple of months of me actively interacting and engaging with the community, I have found it to be extremely helpful, encouraging and warm.

If you are willing to take mindful steps but need a little guidance, be rest assured that the community will embrace you and walk with you through your journey.

For most consumers who decide to take the sustainability plunge, the starting point of a sustainable purchase becomes a brand they usually shop from. It is important to note that several fast fashion brands today make vague and baseless claims regarding their green impact in order to appear conscious. As consumers, it is crucial that we use the right judgement to differentiate brands that greenwash from those that are genuinely working towards sustainability. Just because a label says “eco-friendly” doesn’t mean that it is. A sustainability commitment requires that we constantly make ourselves aware and never stop asking questions. 

And, if that seems like a lot of work, it probably is, but I promise you this — it is rewarding in more ways than one.

All’s Well That Trends Well (What Doesn’t is Probably Great Too!)

Personal Style, Sustainable Fashion, Trends7

Out of fashion doesn’t necessarily have to mean out of style. 

There’s a long-standing joke that my father has on all the women in the family. It’s never funny when he says it, but it’s 100% true — we are all victims of the ‘Nothing to Wear Syndrome’.

Think about the number of times you, or somebody you know stood in front of a closet bursting at the seams and complained: “I have nothing to wear!”

Let’s be honest. The statement rings true for many of us, and for several reasons. Sometimes, it’s because we’ve outgrown the clothes we have. The other times, it’s because these clothes have seen better days. Most times, it’s because they’ve gone out of fashion, and we, as ardent followers of trends, feel compelled to keep up. It’s a vicious cycle that urges us to buy clothes that we will only wear a couple of times until new trends emerge and make the ones we own, redundant. 

And then, again, we are left with nothing to wear.

The recent success of Instagram and the insider access that the platform has given us users to the traditionally elitist and cliquish world of fashion, is reason enough to believe that our insatiable appetite for fashion trends is rather nascent. Trends are now a lot more accessible — not just in terms of their availability but also their affordability. It’s only a matter of days after a trend is spotted on the runway (and by virtue of live streaming, our smartphones), that its multiple low-cost and quality variations trickle down to the racks of fast fashion stores. There’s also a growing number of smalltime Instagram shops and e-commerce websites that thrive on offering cheap designer knockoffs. For trend-crazy shoppers with budget constraints, this is great news. For creators and the environment at large, not so much.

Fashion trends aren’t born out of thin air. They capture the zeitgeist of an era. The hippie counterculture that emerged in the late ‘60s and gained momentum in the ‘70s gave fashion its cherished bell-bottom jeans and flower power motifs. In the ‘80s, the trend of female power dressing caught on as it became a means for women to assert their authority in professional spaces dominated by men. Creators are constantly influenced by the flow of culture, the state of politics and the general spirit of the prevailing times. These influences translate into creations, and the creations spark trends. It’s an ongoing cycle where past trends are also often seen making comebacks.

In today’s digital age, fashion trends have several reference points ranging from the streets to the screens, and their shelf lives are also much shorter. In an article by W Magazine, Bruce Pask, the men’s fashion director at Bergdorf Goodman attributes the overload of visual information to our “hunger for the new and the next.” If the very nature of trends, especially in current times, is that they are constantly undergoing a change, does that mean our wardrobes need to also change alongside and at the same pace, leaving little or no room for the clothes that we already own? 

In a world already facing the brunt of the drastic damage done by the fashion industry, our incessant hunger for current trends might we something we all need to reassess. In doing so, one can experience, what I believe, is the greatest joy fashion can offer — being able to cultivate a style that’s unique and an extension of who you are!

Fashion trends exist for a reason, but by no means should they bind our style choices. Style is instinctive and is driven by personal inspiration. It can’t, and must not be dictated. For someone who loves fashion, the awareness of current trends is a part of their understanding of the direction in which the industry is transitioning. What’s essential is to view trends in perspective without getting obsessive about coveting them.

Having said that, I also do understand that there may be times when you find yourself drawn to a current trend because it defines your aesthetic. What then seems to be the usual course of action for most, as it used to be for the old me, is to turn to fast fashion brands and spend hours scouring websites like Shein in search of that trend. While these options are technically on-trend, they aren’t by any means prudent.

Since fashion trends have a nature of repeating themselves, in times when you have an urge to shop for the season’s trendiest looks, avoid giving into the temptation mindlessly and, instead, look in places people generally wouldn’t — thrift shops, second hand stores or perhaps even your own old wardrobe.  

Who knows? You might rediscover a long-forgotten jacket in the shade of Living Coral from several seasons ago that’ll still be very “in” when you wear it today!

Well, even if don’t, you’ll still find something wonderful that makes your style, yours, and not of just another high-street clone’s.