This is a subject I find myself returning to often, without clear answers. Fast fashion is frequently discussed as a problem to be solved, but less often as something to be understood within the context of real lives, working days, and limited choices. Perhaps it’s a conversation that benefits more from curiosity than certainty.

When did clothing become something we expect to replace so quickly? There was a time when garments were chosen with the intention that they would last, be repaired, or worn differently over time. Somewhere along the way, speed and novelty began to take precedence over longevity.

Is fast fashion truly a choice, or simply the most visible option? For many families, brands like Shein, Temu, and Primark are not careless decisions but practical ones. They are often the only places where it feels possible to keep an entire household clothed, presentable, and appropriate for everyday life on a limited budget.

For those living pay cheque to pay cheque, how realistic is it to expect the purchase of a sustainably made cotton T-shirt at a premium price? When rent, food, and energy costs come first, investing in expensive fabrics or long-term durability can feel like an impossible luxury. The system itself needs to change, not the people navigating it.

In conversations with people around me, this reality comes up again and again. Some have said quite plainly that fast fashion feels like the only option, particularly for girls and young women. The pressure to look current, to keep up, and not to stand out for the wrong reasons is very real. When trends move quickly and social visibility feels constant, lower prices from brands like Shein can feel like the only way to participate at all. In that context, fast fashion isn’t about excess or carelessness, but about belonging, confidence, and affordability within a system that leaves little room for alternatives.

What does affordability really mean in this context? Is it only the price at the checkout, or does it also include how often something needs replacing, how it feels to wear day after day, and whether it holds its shape over time?

As I’ve become more thoughtful about sustainability, I’ve also become more attentive to fabric and feel. Over time, I’ve found myself drawn to cotton-rich pieces that hold their structure and softness, lasting far longer in my wardrobe. It feels less like spending more, and more like choosing clothing that respects me back.

At times, being able to afford better fabrics has meant shopping second-hand. I enjoy shopping on platforms like Vinted, where well-made items already exist and can be worn again with care. But that, too, raises questions. What about those who don’t want to wear second-hand clothing, or for whom it simply doesn’t feel comfortable or appropriate?

Sustainability can’t depend on a single pathway. If quality and longevity are truly valued, they need to be accessible in new clothing as well, at realistic prices and with clearer information, so that everyone has a genuine choice.

This responsibility cannot sit with the individual alone. There is still significant work to be done by fashion producers, manufacturers, and retailers to make sustainability something that is genuinely valued and accessible. No matter a person’s situation, there should be the option to wear clothing made from quality, long-lasting fabrics that can be repaired, resold, or passed on, rather than ending up in landfill.

Who decides what quality looks like, and how are we meant to recognise it? Fabric composition, construction, and longevity are rarely explained clearly on labels. Without that clarity, choice becomes limited in ways we don’t always notice.

What would access look like if information were easier to find and understand? If people knew more about how items were made and how to care for them, would buying habits shift naturally, without pressure or judgement?

Is sustainability always about buying better, or is it sometimes about buying less, repairing more, or choosing second-hand without it feeling like compromise?

Perhaps the real question isn’t whether fast fashion is the only option we’re left with. Perhaps it’s why longer-lasting, comfortable, well-explained clothing has become so difficult to access in the first place.

Maybe the next shift in fashion isn’t about buying differently, but about understanding more clearly what we already own.

xxx