Fast Is Going Out of Fashion

There is a scene in the 2006 film The Devil Wears Prada—one of my favorite movies, by the way—in which Andrea Sachs, aspiring-journalist-turned-assistant-to-magazine-editor, calls fashion “stuff” and proceeds to get lectured by Miranda Priestly, said editor, on how Andrea, even in her lumpy cerulean sweater, is neither outside of nor unaffected by what’s going on in the fashion industry. Give your best Andrea impression about South Koreans lining up outside Chanel prior to a planned price hike, and about fashion in general, but I might give you a Miranda impression when I get to see what’s inside your closet. You’re not unaffected by fashion.

And the opposite is also true: fashion is not unaffected by you. Well, not you individually, but us. Like any other business, fashion reacts to the consumers and are affected by their behaviors. From Dior by Maria Grazia Chiuri churning out looks that are less Dior and more millennial-friendly—something that I don’t appreciate—to Dior Homme by Kim Jones collaborating with Nike on some very cool Air Jordans—something I obviously appreciate, even if I may be contradicting myself—to Zara knocking off whatever Dior, Gucci, Balenciaga and other high end brands are doing in order to cater to our broke, middle-class asses, fashion has always, in its own glamorous ways, respond to the consumers.

A big part of that is about to be changed, even reversed, perhaps to the collective resentment of our broke, middle-class asses.

Like Andrea, many of us can neither afford an outfit from Saint Laurent nor comprehend why we should spend Rp 20 million or more on an outfit. Even if we still care about looking good, we are often reluctant to pay the price for a good quality piece. OK, Rp 15 million for a men’s shirt may be outrageous, but a lot of people are even offended by a Rp 1 million price tag on a shirt.

With wages remaining stagnant, so is people’s ability to spend. That fact, however, does not put a brake on the growing and deepening integration of fashion to work and life, especially for millennials and Gen-Z, in this image-driven, personal brand-fueled era. Hence, the proliferation of fast fashion: H&M, Zara, Uniqlo and their contemporaries at every damn mall. Hence, the launch of new consumer credit app every other month. Hence, new e-commerce getting new round of funding every quarter. All those to serve millennials, Gen-Z, and their broke, middle-class asses.

As someone who loves fashion, I am disheartened by the fact that fashion is one of the biggest polluters in the world. You may think that it’s the likes of Indofood and Danone Aqua that need to be held accountable—because at some point, from some pro-environment campaign, you have seen images of decades-old packagings from their brands floating at sea and choking sea creatures to death—but it’s also fashion brands. We just never see a turtle being strangled by a floating cashmere sweater.

Among those brands, the biggest polluters are of course the fast fashion ones; the ones that have only grown to global behemoths thanks to our broke, middle-class asses demanding new clothes fast and new styles cheap. These days, we can rest assured that we will get those cheap, whether at the mall or somewhere online. Why? Because wait for another month and many items will be offered at a discount.

Publicly, we know how the fast pace of fashion and of consumerism has damaged the planet. But privately—as in known only to people who work in fashion—the same fast pace has also been damaging both to creativity and to business.

First, the damage to creativity. How come Raf Simons, a celebrated designer, only lasted 4 years at Dior? To put that into perspective, Marc Jacobs lasted about 17 years at Louis Vuitton. So, by fashion’s standard, 4 years is a short tenure. And he left Dior. Christian fucking Dior! In fashion, being the designer of Dior is like being Jay-Z. It’s a brand that is revered and considered most exclusive, along with Chanel and Hermès. So, why did he throw in the towel?

"You know, we did this collection in three weeks. Tokyo was also done in three weeks. Actually everything is done in three weeks, maximum five. And when I think back to the first couture show for Dior, in July 2012, I was concerned because we only had eight weeks. The problem is when you only have one design team and six collections, there is no more thinking time. And I don't want to do collections where I'm not thinking. In this system, Pieter [Mulier, Simons' right hand] and I can't sit together and brainstorm—no time. I have a schedule every day that begins at 10 in the morning and runs through the day, and every, every minute is filled. From 10.10am to 10.30am, it's shoes, let's say. From 10.30 to 11.15, it's jewelry. Everything is timed—the whole week. If there's a delay in a meeting, the whole day is fucked up. What are you going to do? Walk out of the office at 8 o'clock at night? No, of course not. So you stay there until midnight. That's the life."

That’s what he said to Cathy Horyn and that’s why he left. And Raf wasn’t the only designer who, in some ways, snapped at the break-neck pace of fashion: his predecessor John Galliano, Christophe Decarnin at Balmain. These are not lone creative geniuses we’re talking about, but ones who have design teams and ateliers to assist them in turning their visions to reality. But even so, they’re exhausted and what they create feels less inspired, at least to them.

Second, the damage to business. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that discounts erode profits. The less profitable a business, the less sustainable it becomes. But with fashion houses having to compete not only among themselves, but also with new designers—and the “community” mindset that supports them—counterfeiters, fast fashion knock-offs and the secondhand market, it’s easy to see why discounting, earlier and more frequently, is embraced by the big brands, save for Louis Vuitton, to generate more sales and sustain business operations.

For us, myself included, discounts are great. I have been able to buy my Fred Perry shirts full price, but I have had to go to eBay to get the Prada and Adidas x Rick Owens sneakers that I had had in my wishlist for long. I got those seasons-ago sneakers preowned at much-discounted prices that my broke, middle-class ass was able to afford. However, the discount-driven consumption in the past decade has turned out to be bad for business in the long run.

At least two groups of fashion insiders—one led by Dries Van Noten and another by Business of Fashion—have been proposing some fundamental changes to the way fashion industry works. Chief among them are changes that relate to production timeline and delivery schedule that, in effect, will be better for the planet, for designers’ creativity and for the business.

Their proposals do not require approval from any government. Personally, I’m not sure who they’re making their proposals to—because there’s no governing body that dictates the fashion industry’s production timeline—but I assume that they need the big players, chiefly LVMH and Kering, to get on board to get the balls rolling. I imagine getting the CFDA and Anna Wintour on board would provide a huge boost to the movement too.

On the surface, that may not sound like that should concern our broke, middle-class asses. However, if those changes were to be implemented, it would mean less frequent discounts for us, the consumers. If you have been claiming that you care about the planet, that change will test you whether you are willing to put your money where your mouth is or not.

The proposal doesn’t seem to include, or will include, support from fast fashion players. In fact, the proposal was designed to some extent against those players, the massive locusts to the profitable crops of high fashion. So, fast fashion players can still operate however the hell they see fit—although they’d have to make adjustments according to the high fashion brands that they have been leeching creativity off of—and our broke, middle-class asses can still get our discounts from them.

However, I’m talking about fast going out of fashion. Hasn’t the pandemic showed us—or, rather, forced us to acknowledge and admit—that our overconsumption has been wasteful? Haven’t lockdowns made us realize that the fast-paced life we had lived—always hustling, always getting something new, always showing something new—has been unnecessary? Hasn’t losing our jobs taught us the importance of making wise investments?

For the past 2 years, I've been spending on investment pieces: perfect pairs of black jeans, crisp white shirts, timeless polo shirts and standard-issue-but-cool sneakers that I can match with my outfits. These are things that I can wear to work, to the mall, everyday for years to come. I find solace in knowing that I’ve realized the value of investment pieces before a pandemic has to teach me that. Oh, and I bought almost all of them full price.

Personally, I’m not going to mourn discounts being less frequent. Not because I’m rich as piss—I still got a broke, middle-class ass—but because I’m so over overconsumption. I am way pass buying something because it is offered at a discount. If I don’t really like it, I don’t buy it. If I really like it, if it suits my personal style and if I can afford it, I’ll buy it at full price.

You know, on a side note, Raf said something else in that interview with Cathy Horyn. He said:

"Fashion became pop. I can't make up my mind if that's a good or a bad thing. The only thing I know is that it used to be elitist. And I don't know if one should be ashamed or not to admit that maybe it was nicer when it was more elitist, not for everybody. Now high fashion is for everybody."

I agree. Make fashion elitist again. I'm not ashamed to say that. The less accessible high fashion becomes, the less waste the industry produces, and the less damage to the planet coming from this "pile of stuff".

Adhi Putra Tawakal | adhiputra_t@yahoo.com