Why Do We Get Emotionally Attached to Clothes? A Contrast to Fast Fashion
Garments carry stories of place, time, and self, becoming quiet witnesses to our lives. It takes time for the emotional and sensory attachments, for memories to build up and become part of a garment, this usually comes after owning a garment for more than a year. This contrasts with the fashion industry’s consumption based system that values newness.
I’ve always loved thrifting, searching for treasures among piles of ordinary garments. But the influx of fast fashion has changed that experience, now a real find is something made outside the big-brand conglomerates. While I mostly wear secondhand items, hand-me-downs, finds on the street, or thrifted pieces, most of my clothes come from factories where rapid production and low cost drive the process. My wardrobe isn’t free from fast fashion.
Which gets me thinking about the pieces that always seem to stay, the ones I can never quite part with. This is an area that Rebekah Harman, lead researcher of Sustainable Clothing Research investigates on a local level. “Recognising, documenting and unpacking how people are attached to garments is part of the greater puzzle of thinking of ways to slow current consumption.” Garments carry stories of place, time, and self, becoming quiet witnesses to our lives. It takes time for the emotional and sensory attachments, for memories to build up and become part of a garment, She says this usually comes after owning a garment for more than a year. This contrasts with the fashion industry’s consumption based system that values newness. Harman’s research reveals that clothing longevity is often rooted in memories woven into fabric, through patches on the elbows, through the comfort of familiar textures, the beauty of well-loved aesthetics like “leather that had worn down over time”, or the natural feel of fibres against the skin of an “old soft wool of a homespun jersey.” Holding onto clothes is a gentle resistance to the fast fashion cycle. It is also an invitation to consider the stories embedded in our clothes, to recognize, in the words of artist Riitta Päiväläinen, how “old fabrics are micro historical documents, archives of the past.”
A decade ago the 2015 documentary The True Cost reminded audiences of the direct environmental and social impact the fast fashion industry has on both the people who make these items and the environments in which they live. What the consumer doesn’t pay for, is paid by other people’s health, livelihoods and communities. The fashion industry’s footprint stretches across every stage of its life cycle: from resource extraction, production, distribution to consumption and disposal.
Walking past a chain of secondhand stores, I notice the rhythm of their clearance sales every few weeks. When these stores change over their stock, where do the unsold clothes go? They rarely stay in warehouses; instead, they are shipped abroad and, in a sense, dumped into other markets. A phenomenon known as waste colonialism, a system where the environmental and social costs of overconsumption are displaced onto other regions, the burden becoming someone else’s.
While many brands focus on sustainable fabrics or ethical production, disposal remains one of the least-addressed and most transformative areas for change. This is where The Revival, a Ghana-based movement founded by Yayra Agbofah, offers an alternative innovation model. The Revival began as a creative response to textile wastes environmental and social toll of secondhand clothing imports in Kantamanto Market, Accra. It has since evolved into a community-led movement transforming discarded clothes into opportunity. Agbofah explains, their work “stands at the frontline of waste colonialism,” confronting the hidden costs of global clothing flows while providing locally rooted solutions.
“Pieces beyond repair may become canvases for storytelling through installation or sculpture, while others are restored, reimagined, and sewn into new garments.” Others are shredded and mixed with plastic waste to create RevivalTex Brick, eco-bricks made from discarded textiles. These compressed blocks are then used in construction and community projects, turning what was once waste into infrastructure. Other items are able to be restored, reimagined and sewn into new garments. Agbofah pauses to stress that “the decision comes down to condition, fabric type, and the emotional narrative we want to express.”
“Collaboration is at the heart of our process.” The Revival specifically works with local artisans to help revive fading crafts like batik, tailoring, and embroidery. Agbofah sees the importance of involving “students who bring fresh perspectives while learning through hands-on practice, the result is a rich dialogue between old and new, tradition and innovation”, grounding contemporary fashion in local culture. Sustainability here is both creative and deeply ecological. The Revival’s approach is rooted in respect for the land and for the people who bear the consequences of fashion’s waste.
Words and research by Anna Borrie for Rethinking Climate
Rethinking Climate:
In a world often defined by crisis headlines and carbon counts, stories of climate action can feel like they live on the periphery, minuscule in the shadow of an overwhelming challenge. Climate stories go beyond scientists, policymakers, and activists. They also take shape in unexpected places: studios, workshops, design labs, community spaces, small corners of cities and in rural landscapes.
These essays grew out of noticing this. They trace how creativity and care intersect with the climate crisis, how artists, architects, and makers are turning what once symbolised environmental failure into forms of renewal. Each story begins with a familiar problem – a tyre fire on the city’s edge, smog above the skyline, discarded textiles, and industrial offcuts – and follows the people transforming these materials and ideas into new forms of value.
To rethink climate is to shift perspective, to see potential where others see residue, and to design systems that regenerate rather than extract. This isn’t only about technology; it’s about creativity, empathy, and design. It’s about finding beauty in what was once waste and building futures that don’t just sustain life but also enrich it.
Anna Borrie:
Anna Borrie is Associate Editor at Planted Journal, where she explores the intersections between ecology, art, and storytelling. Her work is rooted in a creating meaningful connections between people and their environments. She runs a community garden in Madrid, where she cultivates both plants and relationships with fellow gardeners. Her interests lie in creating collaborative environmental art and promoting zero-waste practices, seeking ways to harmonize creativity with environmental responsibility.
