I’ll be honest. I first came across this article after deep-diving on Pinterest for quotes related to fast fashion. Published in 2020, it’s an older article, but I thought it was interesting nonetheless! Click here to read the article yourself.

Overall, Tahirah Hairston succeeded in writing an engaging and thought-provoking article. It was refreshing, not just for the voices it highlighted but for the question it left me contemplating. It wasn’t your typical feel-good piece about swapping plastic for paper. Instead, it pushed deeper into what sustainability should actually mean in the context of an industry built on exploitation, overproduction and endless consumerism.

One idea that resonated with me was how sustainability, as a concept, has been co-opted. It’s hard not to notice how “eco-friendly” branding has been reduced to an aesthetic—neutral tones, Mason jars, and prairie dresses that feel worlds away from the lived realities of those most affected by the fashion industry’s harm. The piece reminded me that sustainability didn’t begin with minimalist influencers or capsule wardrobes. Practices like mending, reusing, and repurposing were—and still are—part of the everyday lives of many Black, Indigenous, and people of colour (BIPOC). These traditions are so often erased or rebranded as innovations when the fashion world decides they’re trendy.

Another point that stood out was the critique of individual responsibility. I’ve long wrestled with this idea, as someone who actively tries to shop consciously. The truth is, it’s exhausting. No matter how many second-hand clothes I buy or how carefully I scrutinise labels, it feels like a drop in the ocean compared to the waste generated by corporations. The Teen Vogue feature drove home what I’ve recently come to believe: expecting individuals to fix systemic problems is the ultimate distraction. It’s the epitome of what one of the interviewees called “peak capitalism”—shifting the blame to consumers while companies continue business as usual.

That said, I’m not ready to dismiss the value of personal actions entirely. Individual choices may not dismantle the system, but they can be part of a larger cultural shift. Take the #PayUp campaign, which the article mentioned. It started as a social media movement led by consumers demanding that brands pay garment workers what they were owed during the pandemic. It wasn’t perfect, but it demonstrated how collective consumer pressure could drive tangible change. It’s a reminder that while we shouldn’t carry the weight of sustainability alone, our voices can still amplify important causes.

The piece also challenged me to rethink what I mean by “ethical fashion.” I’ve often leaned on simple metrics—organic fabrics, transparency, fair wages—but this article reminded me that true sustainability demands more than ticking boxes. It’s about systemic accountability. One of the interviewees mentioned “decolonising” the fashion industry, a concept I’m still unpacking but find deeply compelling. It means questioning who holds power, who gets to profit, and whose voices are centred in conversations about change. For example, how often do we see small, BIPOC-led brands included in mainstream narratives about sustainability? Their work is vital, yet they’re consistently overshadowed by larger brands dabbling in greenwashed marketing.

I appreciated the feature’s discussion on what happens when brands genuinely try to change. The question of redemption stood out: can a fast fashion giant like H&M have a meaningful impact with its Conscious Collection, or is it doomed to be performative? Personally, I’m torn. On one hand, these efforts feel like a Band-Aid on a broken system. On the other, I wonder if dismissing them entirely risks discouraging incremental progress. Perhaps the answer lies in transparency. If brands openly acknowledge their flaws while committing to measurable, systemic changes, there’s room for growth. But transparency isn’t enough without accountability—something the article hinted at but didn’t fully unpack.

Finally, the piece left me reflecting on the future. It’s clear that sustainability needs a rebrand—not as an aesthetic or a consumer act, but as a lifestyle, a responsibility, and a system-wide commitment. The emphasis on regeneration over sustainability resonated deeply. “Sustainability” implies maintaining the status quo, but the fashion industry needs repair, not just maintenance. This means centring circularity, prioritising longevity, and most importantly, reducing production altogether. It’s not about buying “better” but buying less—a message that’s still uncomfortable for an industry built on endless consumption.

Teen Vogue’s article didn’t just spotlight trailblazers; it highlighted the contradictions and complexities of sustainable fashion in a way that felt honest. It left me questioning not only the industry but my own role in it. How do we navigate these conversations without becoming complicit in greenwashing? How do we hold brands accountable without falling into the trap of cancel culture? And how do we balance personal responsibility with the need for systemic change?

These aren’t easy questions, but they’re the kind we should be asking if we want a future where fashion truly serves both people and the planet.