Why I Left Fashion
Making clothing is something I’ve been exposed to since I was born. My mother was a seamstress all her adult life. That’s how she made her money. I was always fascinated with creating things, anything, but growing up I leaned more towards sewing as I watched my mother work. She also welcomed my interest and while she made dresses for her clients, I would sit on the floor next to her sewing machine, picking up scraps to make clothes for my dollies, trying to imitate the styles in her fashion magazines.
Now, writing has always had my heart. If I had to rank the two, writing would be first, no question. However, there was a time, in my 20s, when I seriously considered becoming a seamstress/fashion designer and making it my full-time job. Living in the Caribbean, it’s not really possible to go into fashion design without having some kind of skill in making clothing yourself as most times (if you don’t have the connections and financial backing) you’ll find that you have to handle the production on your own in the early days before you can hire extra hands or outsource internationally on a larger scale.
We just don’t have the infrastructure in the local industry. So to be a fashion designer, your training starts in the tailor’s shop, or at the seamstress’ boutique. I even trained under one of the top bespoke tailors from Savile Row for a year. I did fashion marketing courses, registered my business and entered business programmes to try to get artisan loans from the government. I was serious.
I started going through the nitty-gritty of creating a brand and products, while managing the ups and downs of a business, determined to push past that ‘50% of businesses fail within the first five years’ rule. But alas, after all of that, I regretfully choose to step away from fashion. Disappeared from fashion shows, got quiet in my fashion circles and put my full attention into my writing and editing career instead.
Looking back at it, I really just ghosted the scene. No wonder people were confused. I went radio silent like I was weaning myself off of a toxic relationship, but I’m not one to linger once I’ve made up my mind.
So this is me finally talking about it, and no, this isn’t a random confession. There’s a reason it’s relevant, stay with me. So, do I still sew?
The short answer is, yes. Sometimes, especially during holidays, I might ‘ketch a vaps’, as they say where I come from, and feel like sewing again. Tote bags for everybody. That’s the extent of it though. I’m not as passionate about fashion as I used to be. Given the things in the industry that I can no longer support, I admit maybe I’m a bit jaded. I won’t discount that.
The long answer…
I’ve always wanted to be authentic and fair in my fashion business. When the collapse of the Rana Plaza garment factory happened in 2013, I was in the thick of starting my fashion enterprise. That event, which was not the first of its kind but significantly worse as it claimed over a 1000 lives and negatively affected 1000s more, sent shock waves throughout fashion communities around the world. It forced us to see what was being swept under the rug; about how cutting corners during production of the next seasonal trends was damaging real people.
Because I identified strongly with how important it was to make more ethical clothing, I made serious adjustments and repositioned my business in a way that ensured customers would be getting handmade pieces that supported more sustainability in the fashion industry. The Caribbean’s footprint in the damages the fashion industry has left on lives and the environment is very small, but I believe we all need to do our part in order for change to take place.
Get True Nicks’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
However, I naively thought this was enough; for me that is. Little did I know just how deep the rabbit hole went. That Rana Plaza was just the tip of the iceberg.
I’ve learned so many disturbing things since then, but the beginning of my decent into the rabbit hole of the atrocities of the fashion industry actually came through makeup.
You know when you end up on Youtube and just watch one recommended video and then another and then another and you have no idea how you got onto the current video you’re watching because it has nothing to do with what you were looking for initially? Yup, that’s how I found out about mica and the uses of this mineral in makeup.
The video above (click here if the link doesn’t work) was one of the first I saw while tumbling down the rabbit hole. I read articles by investigative journalists going to the other side of the world to expose stories of children being sent into mica mines underground to mine this shimmery mineral that is then exported by people who barely pay them crumbs for risking their lives and their health so that cosmetic companies can put that holiday shimmer in your eye shadow.
And again, I naively thought, ‘good thing I don’t wear makeup’, which is true. I don’t hate it. I might beat my face two or three times a year, but even then, it’s minimal because my pores hate being suffocated and will throw a whole tantrum afterward. Sensitive skin things.
But life was like, ‘hold on, you sweet summer child’, and threw some more gems at me. I found out that mica is also used in skin care, like eye creams and serums and, you guessed it, clothing as well. Pardon? Think anything that shimmers and shines, so rubber boots, shower caps, glittery tie-dyes, shiny threads and belt buckles, etc., etc., etc. There’s a good chance there’s mica in there. I kept researching and reading articles and watching more videos, and my magpie-heart slowly died.
More importantly, I realised that I had lied to myself. Made myself believe that because my products were handmade by either me or someone I knew and paid a fair wage to, that I was exempt.
So I created clothes ethically, but what about the raw materials? I had no way of knowing how it was made; and if some child had died, caved into an underground mine, to get the mineral that made the shiny buttons I was putting on my clothing. And the beautifully patterned cloth I love buying, where was it dyed? Caribbean people LOVE us some colourful clothing BUT were the people equipped with the right safety gear to dye it, so they don’t get cancer in the next two years? And after the dying process, was the residue disposed of properly so it doesn’t hurt anyone or damage the environment?
Not only did I have no control over these things but I had no way of knowing who made what in what conditions; and asking the store owners was a waste of time. They bought their fabrics and haberdashery online somewhere in India or China where it was cheapest so they could sell it at a profit. They had no idea how it was made either. And I, as a designer/artisan putting clothing into the world wasn’t comfortable not being able to answer these questions for my customers because I couldn’t find the answers myself.
I fell head first down the rabbit hole of just how badly the fashion industry was destroying the environment and just how unethical their work standards were and I was absolutely appalled. I hit my head so hard during the decent that I could not reconcile being a part of the industry anymore.
Continue reading this article on the author’s site Critics May Lie.
This writer does not qualify for the Medium Partner Program. You can support them with as little as $1 at their PayPal link here.
