Every week, something new surfaces online; from cowboy boots and brown suede jackets to bag charms and oversized scrunchies, there’s always something to spend your money on. But do we really need to pay attention to these trends? Should we be riding the wave, or should we find our own flow and embrace slower fashion?
Living in a town like St Andrews, where sitting in the library feels like you’re front row at a fashion show, it’s hard not to imitate the trends you’re seeing. In fact, I have personally bought items of clothing solely because I saw them on one too many people in town. But over the last few months, I’ve been more intentional about my purchasing habits. This change hasn’t just been about cultivating a cohesive personal style, but also about being conscious of the environmental impact of my consumption.
It’s no secret that social media fuels overconsumption, with influencers posting and promoting highly excessive clothing hauls, which are only truly accessible to a privileged few. Shawni Ripari discusses how consumption is taught to us as a never-ending cycle: we see a clothing haul, the influencer shows how the items are used, and then we see the declutter or closet clear-out. Now that there is physically more space for more items, the cycle repeats. As impressionable viewers, we are subtly nudged to participate, and before long, we also feel like we need 3 pairs of marginally different Tabi shoes just to keep up.
Social media influencers have picked up on this, leading to an increase in ‘Deinfluencing’ content, which involves creators advising their followers not to buy into every trend they see. For example, Lottie Lashley exposes the reality of our shopping habits, as she centres her content around how wasteful participating in micro trends is: the cow print, cottagecore dresses, and bucket hats that dominated 2020 are now sitting undecomposed in landfills, while we rush to figure out which new Labubu colourway might best match our handbags. Micro trends and fast fashion create immense amounts of waste, so by being more mindful of what trends we succumb to, we save our money and reduce the volume of waste produced by the fashion industry.
So how do we overcome the tug of overconsumption? For me, the answer has been easier than I thought: time. If I see an item of clothing I like, online or in person, I give it at least two weeks before I buy. And if I am tossing and turning at night, dreaming about it, then I’ll consider buying it. This ensures that I feel the piece will be a meaningful addition to my wardrobe and not just a way to entertain myself. In a similar vein, Lottie Lashley encourages us to ask ourselves, “What do I love about it, really?”. Is it the colour, the shape, the fact that it’s trendy, or just the prospect of having something new?