A shift in clothing systems. From localism to globalism and back?

Mikkel Lind Sorgenfrey in conversation with Trine Young

Our clothing systems have become global, and so have the consequences. We have made systemic changes in the past, so there is hope that we can do it again. In Atacama, Chile, mountains of discarded clothing make up for a strange sight to come across in the driest desert in the world. Fast fashion has left behind a mountain of unwanted clothes in the Chilean desert that’s so massive it can now be seen clearly from space, Business Insider reports in an article from last year.

The desert has become a dumping ground for fast-fashion leftovers made in China or Bangladesh, which pass through Europe, Asia, or the United States before ending up in Chile. This type of textile pollution is a phenomenon not only present in Latin America but also in Asia and Africa, where it contaminates the local environments with microplastics and toxic chemicals.

Our clothing systems have become global, and so have the consequences. But in the Global North, we turn a blind eye to the consequences of our privileges; they’re comfortably hidden away from us. We don’t see how clothes are produced or where they end once we’re done with them. Perhaps that’s also why—unlike most other polluting industries—the industry has managed to fly under the political radar for decades, avoiding regulation.

The global fashion industry is estimated to account for up to 10 percent of the world’s green house gas emissions, and with increasing demand from the Global South, the UN expects the fashion industry’s emissions to increase by more than 60 percent by 2030—a devastating bomb to be dropped while the world desperately tries to get the whole climate issue under control. Research shows that if the fashion industry is to become sustainable, the industry must reduce all-new production by 75 to 95 percent, which means that the industry must work towards brand-new business models. We need to rethink our entire clothing system.

From local to global:
The rise of a badly made clothing culture

Today, our understanding of fashion is based around consumption—quantity over quality and a constant pursuit of trends. The wardrobe needs to be replaced, and there’s no such thing as too often.

Over the decades, clothing has become cheaper and cheaper. We buy more and more of it while using each item less and less.

Clothing has become so cheap that we no longer see any value in the clothes we wear. It doesn’t pay to repair or even to take good care of it. Our clothing culture is moving towards single-use.

These years, it’s only getting worse. As if fast fashion wasn’t enough—most fashion brands, including luxury ones, are now based on a fast fashion business model—new ultra-fast fashion giants pop up and introduce thousands and thousands of new items to the market every day. The world is drowning in cheap clothing no one wants.

Obviously, it doesn’t have to be like this.

In the past, only decades ago, clothes were precious, durable items that were passed down from generation to generation. Clothing had a deeper meaning, a personal story, a sentimental value.
So how did we end up in this situation that serves no one but the fashion capitalists? The fashion industry has become globalised.

Things started going wrong with the outsourcing of the textile industry, which began in the middle of the last century and really took off in the 1980s.

New clothing systems were needed, and production had to be moved to the opposite side of the world from the designer. Standardisation became a necessity.

So, we moved away from clothing systems based on body diversity and tailoring. Besides various sizes, ready-to-wear would also offer different shapes and models of the same look for different body types, such as triangles, rectangles,
or hourglass shapes. On top of that, it was normal to have an
in-shop tailor who could adjust the fit to suit your body.

Because of heavy standardisation, we have ended up with a size zero—roughly the size and body shape of a 13-year-old white girl—as the base from which all other sizes are scaled up, with all proportions growing evenly. But guess what? The body does not work like that; an adult does not have the same body proportions as a child. Basically, we are now stuck with a system based on badly made product design and, as a consequence, most clothing—around 90 percent—produced today does not fit anyone. Think about that. Our clothes are not made to fit us. Maybe that is the true reason behind the textile desert in Atacama; most clothing is created to become trash.

From global to local:
Is it possible to reverse globalisation?

Perhaps the fashion industry has become too global. Perhaps we need to reverse this trend and bring things back to a regional or even local level.

What if we brought the farming and production of textiles back to Europe? Today, we would not be able to produce cotton, but linen and hemp, among other crops, fit our climate. Would we then accept excessive water use and chemical dyeing damaging our local environment and communities, which people from the Global South have to endure?

What if we brought the production of garments back to what it used to be? Would we then accept the level of violence and exploitation of garment workers as we see it in Asia?

This way of thinking already dominates the political debate on waste management. France, Sweden, and Denmark are leading the charge within the EU to propose a ban on the export of used clothing.

Imagine if we could not export any textile waste. Can you imagine textile deserts popping up throughout Europe?
We would never accept that. We would sort our waste, reuse it, or send it to get recycled.

That’s why I dream of more regionalism. Bringing everything closer is an important element of circularity. We should be able to see how the world works and how products are made. When we see with our own eyes where resources come from and what it takes to create them, we also understand the true value of things.

Is it possible to reverse globalisation? Can we go back in time to traditional ways of making clothes? Maybe not. Perhaps new technologies and game-changing inventions are needed for this reformation. I have hope in finding more sustainable ways to grow natural fibres, more biodiversity, less water use, and fewer chemicals. I hope for less CO₂ emissions, more renewable energy in production and better working conditions for all.

No matter what, there is a lot to learn from the past, things we have forgotten: slow processes, quality, and meaning. Good design, good fit, care and repair. Let us go back to making products that will last us a lifetime again. Pieces you can pass onto your children and grandchildren.

But what if we could go even further? What if the fashion industry could contribute to being a fundamental part of the solution, not only to its own problems but also to society’s? What if fashion could find solutions to mental health issues, racial discrimination, or even wars? It might sound too abstract, but I invite you to think big. Let us ask ourselves: How can we form new and better communities? More inclusive, nature-based communities.

An industry less concerned with the fleeting trends of fashion, and more concerned with creating a better world for the many. That is my biggest hope.

From theory to practice.
Exchanging ideas.

On a more practical side, I wanted to discuss these ideas with someone at the forefront of sustainable fashion and innovation, so I reached out to a designer who has invented a new and potentially revolutionary way to produce and distribute clothing and explore actionable steps forward.

Designer Trine Young runs the world’s first automated clothing micro-factory in Copenhagen. A micro-factory that will revolutionise the way clothes are produced. On demand, without water use and with a significantly lower environmental and climate footprint. The mission is to cut the global fashion industry’s massive overproduction significantly. And the dream extends far beyond Copenhagen.

With a new investment of three million euros, the company will scale its business and aims to open a second factory soon. The vision is to place as many micro-factories as possible around the world, and by cutting 40 percent of a garment’s CO₂ emissions, the micro-factories will be a much needed game changing tool in the global industry.

Different materials cannot be fed through the same machines in conventional clothing production. Usually, this requires one production line per material, but at the micro-factory that opened in 2021, all materials can go through the same machines and processes. When you, as a brand, have chosen your fabric, the roll will be fed into the first stage, like a piece of paper in a printer. The first machine prints colours and patterns on the surface of the textile, but only on the parts of the fabric that will later be cut out. The fabric is then taken to the second stage, where the colour is heat-dried so that it sets. So firm that the clothes will not shed colour in the first wash. The fabric is then passed over to the third process of the machinery: cutting. The various designs are cut out with millimetre-precise knives, after which robotic arms sort the cut-out parts, which are then ready to be sewn together—by humans. Rodinia Generation has no plans to remove manual labour from that joint; instead, they wish to improve the quality of the jobs and revive workforce attraction to the sewing sector.

The micro-factory uses not so much as a drop of water and emits up to 95 percent less CO₂ than a conventional production line. At the same time, some styles’ waste percentage when cutting is as low as two percent. A software places the parts of pattern on the fabric, as close to each other as possible—as if it was a game of Tetris—and that software is constantly getting smarter.

Trine Young, who founded the tech start-up Rodinia Generation, the company behind the micro-factories, is a trained designer with a bachelor’s degree from the Royal Danish Academy and a master’s degree from the London College of Fashion. However, she is not interested in designing products but in designing systems—and, according to her, the world’s current clothing systems need to go through a massive disruption.

Mikkel Lind Sorgenfrey in conversation with Trine Young

Mikkel Lind Sorgenfrey – What is wrong with the fashion industry as it stands today?

Trine Young – The biggest problem in the fashion industry is that it has not seen much technological innovation compared to other industries, such as the car industry. Today, fashion’s manufacturing model is very fragmented; most clothing is made on the other side of the planet compared to where it is designed and consumed. We need to close that gap.

M.L.S. – Do you think we need to go back in time, back to traditional ways of producing clothes, or do you believe in reforming and developing our fashion system into something new?

T.Y. – We cannot solve the fashion industry’s problems by going back to dyeing our garments with tea bags. We need to think of how to use the newest technologies, especially within mechanics and software, to get us further in our development of these manufacturing systems. So we do not want to go back;
we want to go forward.

M.L.S. – Why do you think so? A lot of people probably dream of going back to more traditional methods and making everything more handheld again,
I imagine.

T.Y. – To be honest, I would also like that if it was possible to create the same level of impact by doing so, but unfortunately, it is not. So when I think about my company and the reason why we exist, it is because we want to create the highest level of positive impact possible—and we would need a lot of tea bags to do so if that was the solution. In order to hit the magnitude it takes to solve our problems, we have to use state-of-the-art machinery and the newest technologies available around. Technologically, the fashion industry is far behind, so we need to look at technologies used in nearby industries.
M.L.S. – Do you think it is nonsense when people talk about going back to traditional ways?

T.Y. – The problem is that it is almost impossible to change a flock mentality that has evolved over many centuries into what it is today. We have to think about solutions to this reality rather than trying to force it back to an idealistic past. I share these dreams of saving our industry and the planet by returning to traditional, more sustainable practices, but it is unrealistic. So, I am balancing on what’s realistic while also trying to ensure that we push the conventional ways of thinking to the very edge.

M.L.S. – The fashion industry acts as if the whole world was one big country: the designer is usually based in Paris, the factory is typically in China, India or Bangladesh, while the consumer lives somewhere in the Global North.
The textile deserts in Chile or different places in Africa could be seen as a global rubbish bin. Do you think the fashion industry has become too global?

T.Y. – Is the problem the fact that it has become too global or that it isn’t global enough? I mean if it was really global it wouldn’t be an out-of-sight, out-of-mind kind of thing; I am pretty sure that if we took all our waste and dumped it in people’s backyards, then for sure, we would see more people acting more.
I think something’s missing in our globalisation adventure.

We’re only globalised to the extent that is beneficial for us. What is lacking is true globalisation—maybe we need more of it and to treat every place fairly, not only our own backyard.

Maybe we need to understand how we also use globalisation to shine a light on the things that we do not necessarily want to see, like the consequences of early globalisation that has happened too fast for us to be able to create the right framework for it.

M.L.S. – What is your view on localism, then? Should we work towards a more local mindset?

T.Y. – We should. Our ambition is to embrace the fact that you can be local but still have a global outlook; you do not need to be isolated just because your mindset is local. The truth is that nothing today is purely local. We are affected by what is happening on the other side of the planet. On Instagram, for example, if someone is wearing a shirt, and someone else on the other side of the earth gets inspired and wants that same item—let’s imagine that the product only existed at that specific local point—then nothing would stop this other person on the other side of the planet to try and get their hands on the product of interest. It would only require a lot of transportation and many resources to fulfil that person’s need because this is how we have evolved. But what if we placed a mini-facility close to where this person is, so we could make this specific product right where the person is located? Then we would not need any transport, it would all happen in the backyard, so to speak. It would not be an out-of-sight, out-of-mind situation anymore, and it would not be a strange parcel arriving on our front door with no info about how the product was made and where it truly comes from.

M.L.S. – What about the business model of producing at a local micro-factory?
Is it profitable for brands?

T.Y. – I tend to ask people in the industry: have you considered that you could earn more by selling less? People usually look a little amazed because they haven’t looked into their actual balance sheets. Let’s say you have pre-manufactured a fabric roll with red dots, but then suddenly you realise that the latest trend is now blue dots, so you never use the red-dotted fabric. You basically just write it off, so it does not appear as a product cost, but you’ve still had costs related to making that red-dotted fabric. It is in your balance sheet along with all the finished products that you have actually managed to manufacture and place somewhere in a warehouse, but that has never left the warehouse and has become a financial loss rather than having generated profit.

Another example could be products you were hoping to sell with a specific margin, but then you have to put them on sale. A 70 or even 50 percent discount is a hard blow to what you expected to profit from as a brand. All these things have a direct effect on the bottom line. It doesn’t show when you are looking at your unit economics; they could probably still be great. But, at the end of the day, how much can you give to your shareholders and employees? Often, it is very close to zero because of all of these shadow costs.

We need to learn that we can actually sell products before producing them. We need to get rid of spending resources on something that no one wants and no one can sell. I mean, that’s just nonsense.
By producing locally, you also save on transportation and import tax.

M.L.S. – A reason why you can sell made-to-order products is because your way of manufacturing is so quick, potentially taking as little as 48 hours. Are you competing with the fast fashion giants?

T.Y. – Actually, fast fashion is not fast. It is just a perception and a way of calling it. In actual fact, it is super slow. That’s where the problem lies because the speed at which consumers basically demand fashion is super fast. But the way we produce it is super slow.
So, basically, the demand is faster than the time it takes to manufacture. What fast fashion does right now is to compensate for this by making a bunch of what they believe will quickly sell out in the future because we need the volumes to lower the cost. The machinery and current production lines are not built for anything else but for making high volumes of the same product. So, the perception of fast in regards to fast fashion is an illusion. I am not sure if the term fast fashion comes from mirroring the fast food industry, where something is pretty cheap and mass-produced. Obviously, it also describes how frequently these collections are squeezed out of these giants. And that’s what I mean: the perception of the fact that something was made available to us more often does not mean that the production was faster or more frequent. It just means that the production was made in bigger volumes way more in advance than when it was actually going to be sold.

But what if we could transform the system by using this speed for something good? What if we use it to ensure that we can meet the demand in time and thereby can avoid manufacturing something that no one wants due to fast-shifting trends?

M.L.S. – You’ve been able to reduce a garment’s CO₂ emissions by 40 percent. What about the last 60 percent?

T.Y. – So that lies pretty much in the material end of the supply chain. A lot of innovation is going on at the moment in this field, so we’re looking into partners that are at the forefront of these new alternatives. When we look at the materials step in the value chain, cotton, for example, has a high level of water consumption, but polyester has a higher CO₂ footprint. With our processes, we tend to say that we address the worst step in the supply chain because this is where you consume high amounts of water and energy. We use wind energy, and the microfactory process uses no water at all.

M.L.S. – Do you think clothes could become truly sustainable without leaving the world with less resources for future generations?

T.Y. – Not today. Making physical products requires resources, but we can recycle as much as possible and preferably reuse as many materials in the supply chain as possible. I do think, though, that it will be possible with the next generations’ technologies. When we can 3D print a complete garment and afterwards melt it into whatever other garment without leaving any trace or waste behind, we’d be looking at a fully recycled garment. Right now, that idea is very futuristic for this industry.

M.L.S. – What makes you particularly hopeful?

T.Y. – There’s a lot of hope out there, but from a tech point of view, I think vertical farming of natural fibres like cotton, where water and nutrients are reused and so on, could potentially disrupt the textile industry and be a great opportunity to solve some of the problems that have to do with massive land use. Imagine if micro-factories could also use vertical farming to make fabrics. That would be amazing.