A man is truly ethical only when he obeys the compulsion to help all life which he is able to assist, and shrinks from injuring anything that lives. —Albert Schweitzer

We need clothes. We want clothes. But must each purchase we make hurt someone else? Can one have an ethical wardrobe?
I had a wardrobe crisis occur a couple of weeks ago. I looked down at my shoes, the one pair of black, slip-resistant shoes I’ve worn every day for over a year and a half, and saw a hole. I knew what was coming next. Because of the unbalanced nature of my walk, the right shoe always wears a hole in the same place: the inside seam where the upper meets the sole. Every time. The hole starts small enough but expands quickly and is not repairable. I was going to have to buy new shoes.
I hate having to buy clothes. I especially dislike having to buy new clothes as long as there is a reasonable and ethical alternative. Shoes, however, are the one thing I’ve learned to buy new, and to spend a little money. Sure, I could go to a discount shoe place and get a pair for$20, but I’m lucky if those last six months. I want a pair of shoes that lasts at least a year, longer if I don’t wear them every day. Shoes are a justifiable expense. Sort of. I still look for sales and ended up actually purchasing two pair so that neither wears out quite so quickly. I shouldn’t have to buy shoes again for at least three-four years.
That logic doesn’t apply to everything in my wardrobe, though. There is very little in my wardrobe that is less than five years old. I have a couple of sweaters that I’ve retired after 15 years of wearing and washing. About half the black shirts I wear every day are over ten years old. When I do occasionally need to replace one, thrift stores make more sense than do department or fast fashion stores. By shopping for previously worn clothes, I’m keeping something out of a landfill, which is often as much as 30% discarded clothing. It’s an ethical thing for me, not really a standard to which I hold anyone else.
If you’ve seen me, you know my personal style is not exactly on-trend. I soon could be, perhaps. Marc Jacobs has officially declared 1980s retro back in style. The problem with that, on a personal level, is that I’m about 436 sizes larger now than I was in the 80s. Even if I still had all those stylish (cough-cough) threads from back then, there’s no way that I would still be able to fit my ample dad body into clothes that did a good job of making my butt look almost attractive (something that was much more a concern then than it is now). Does that mean I can ethically justify buying new clothes that look like the clothes I wore 30 years ago? Probably not.
Having an ethical wardrobe is more important to me than having a stylish ensemble for every day. There are multiple reasons for holding that view, but fundamental to that reasoning is that I don’t want to get dressed every morning knowing that what I’m wearing was assembled by a child in Bangladesh who is thrilled to be making $73 a month and is using all that to help support his/her family. Yes, I really do think about those things in the dark at 4:00 AM. I’m also not a fan of adding to Amancio Ortega’s $57 billion empire (he own’s Zara, among other fashion-related things). I’m especially not a fan of ripping off designers, which is what fast fashion retailers do on a daily basis.
The ethical implications of what I have in my closet are significant. I’m not ignorant of the ethical challenges that occur in the fashion world. I know that what I buy individually, while it may seem small and insignificant on one level, becomes part of a greater whole. When I make a purchase, no matter where or what it is, I am aligning myself with a larger group of people making like-minded decisions and it is in the rise and fall of those groups from which trends are set. If I want to encourage a trend away from cheaply-sourced materials, then I have to refrain from buying cheaply sourced materials. Likewise, buying clothes manufactured in New York’s garment district, for example, encourages domestic production in an environment where workers are more likely to be treated fairly.
Still, if the 80s are indeed coming back … how do I not get in on some of that action? I felt good about my fashion choices back then. I had multiple pairs of Levi’s 501 jeans back then, and they were still being made in Northern California at the time. Levi’s has moved production south of the border though and I’m not sure one can even find 501 jeans in the store anymore. Shopping directly from Marc Jacob’s isn’t a financial option, either. How do I enjoy this momentary global lapse of stylish sanity while still holding to the ethical standards I’ve set for my wardrobe?
A couple of years ago, a Canadian artist, Sarah Lazarovic, wrote a book, A Bunch Of Pretty Things I Did Not Buy. This very interesting young woman went a full year without buying any new clothes. None. I know a lot of people who would begin to hyperventilate at the thought of going more than a week without making a new purchase of some kind. The book is quite interesting and, while everything she has to say may not align with someone else’s specific situation, she did come up with this interesting pyramid she calls the “buyerarchy of needs” to help one make a bit more sense of their fashion purchases. While she is not preaching a strict ethical behavior, the implications and applications are there. Take a look:

The Buyerarchy of Needs. Copyright Sarah Lazarovic
The concept is pretty straight forward. Buying something new should be the last option. Using what you have, perhaps even repurposing what you have, should be where we all start. There’s no good reason why we should be completely turning over our wardrobes every few months. If you’re looking at a once-in-a-lifetime sort of thing, consider borrowing from someone who’s already been there. Kat and her friends swap clothes back and forth, both adult and children’s. Thrift, and I would add Vintage, shopping are my personal preference (though, I would warn, not everything in a vintage shop is necessarily original from that period). Making things yourself is one of those things that varies from person to person. I’m useless in that department.
Does that mean that I still don’t watch labels for where garments are made? No, not at all. Even when I’m thrift or vintage shopping I still look at labels and avoid those I know are unethically sourced. But, following the precepts of this pyramid brings us a lot closer to having an ethical wardrobe than we might achieve on our own.
Again, the standards I set for myself are not necessarily applicable to anyone else. You have to decide for yourself whether an ethical approach to shopping is even a concern. But for me, whether I’m buying a new pair of shoes or a t-shirt to replace the one that just disintegrated in the wash, how I shop matters. A lot.
Fair Doesn’t Get Personal
The secret of life is honesty and fair dealing. If you can fake that, you’ve got it made. —Groucho Marx
Complaining about life not being fair is immoral when you’re already so close to the top.
I could be very frank with you and say that life isn’t fair. Ever. I could end this article here and go back to bed, which sounds so very tempting. But to do that would be missing the entire point this morning. You already know life isn’t fair. You feel how unfair life is everytime the car doesn’t start, or someone else gets the girl, or the baby throws up on you just as you’re about to walk out the door. You don’t need me to tell you that life isn’t fair. What I want you to hear this morning is that nothing to do with fairness, the good, the bad, or the indifferent, is personal. The universe is not picking on you.
From the earliest point in our lives, we look for fairness. If we see a child with a lollipop, we want a lollipop. If one of our classmates has new shoes, we think we deserve new shoes as well. Someone gets paid a given amount for a certain job, we think it’s only fair that everyone be paid the same amount for the same job. This concept of what is fair seems to be universal. Even monkeys understand equal pay for equal work. We want everything in our lives to be fair, or so we say.
The fact is, if you’re living in the United States, Canada, or most of Western Europe, the scales are already tipped in your favor. Those little inconveniences you consider unfair are little more than a minor balancing of the universal measure of right and wrong, and chances are you’re still coming out much better than the vast majority of people. Consider some of the following comparisons:
Why? What’s fair isn’t a personal thing. Shit happens on a universal basis. There’s no cosmic calculator that is keeping tabs on the number of good things you get versus the bad. There’s no mystical figure in the sky or below the earth who is waiting to reward you for being nice, or punish you for being a total bitch. Instead, what we consider to be fairness has more to do with where on the planet you were born, whether your parents were (comparatively) rich, and whether you had the opportunity to go to school. If you had those things, life is likely to be overly fair to you. If you were born with those factors against you, life is more likely to feel like the bottom of a global shithole.
Whether you want to admit it or not, if you were born in the US, regardless of any other factor, life for you is more fair than 85% of the rest of the world. Here’s another list:
Are any of those statistics in any way fair? What is fair about children in one part of the world sleeping soundly at night while those in a different region huddle together in fear as they listen to bombs falling around them? What is fair about women in Africa walking multiple miles each day to collect water when all you do is turn a tap and then complain because you don’t like the way it tastes?
In the past week, I’ve heard people complain that they didn’t think it fair that someone was prettier, someone had bigger boobs, someone had a better spouse, someone had a better job, someone had a bigger house. Each one of those people specifically said they didn’t think their current condition was fair.
I don’t think the real problem is one of fairness at all. Life isn’t treating you mean, the universe doesn’t have a target attached to your forehead. You’re just greedy, and perhaps lacking in perspective. Your desire for more blocks your ability to see just how much you already have.
Life is treating you just fine. So not every little detail goes your way. So someone else gets the promotion at work. So Brad Pitt will still be hotter than me even when he’s 98.
You’re alive. That’s fair.
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