The 7 Rs of Sustainable Fashion: A Bullshit-Free Guide

So there I was, knee-deep in a mountain of clothes that could rival Everest, wondering how the hell I got here. It all started with that stupid Marie Kondo show. You know, the one where she tells you to only keep stuff that "sparks joy"? Well, turns out everything in my closet was a real joy-sparker after three glasses of wine and an ASOS sale.

I'm pretty sure my credit card company thinks I'm running some kind of underground clothing store out of my apartment. Spoiler alert: I'm not. Unless you count the colony of moths that's taken up residence in my sweater drawer. They seem to be doing a booming business in hole-making.

Anyway, in the midst of my fashion crisis (and let's be real, life crisis), I stumbled across this "7 Rs of sustainable fashion" thing. At first, I thought it was some kind of weird fashion diet. Like, only wear red on Mondays or something. Turns out, it's way more complicated than that. Buckle up, buttercup, 'cause we're about to take a wild ride through my closet of horrors.

Reduce - Or How I Learned to Stop Buying Crap

First up: Reduce. Sounds simple, right? Just buy less stuff. Ha! Tell that to my brain when it sees a "50% off" sign. It's like all common sense flies out the window, replaced by visions of me strutting down the street in clothes I definitely don't need and probably can't pull off.

You know that feeling when you're staring at a closet bursting with clothes and still have "nothing to wear"? Yeah, that was me every damn morning. I'd buy stuff just 'cause it was on sale. Like, I once bought a jumpsuit. Me. In a jumpsuit. I'm 5'2" on a good day. I looked like a toddler playing dress-up in her mom's clothes. A deflated, mildly alcoholic toddler.

But I'm trying to be better. I've started asking myself questions before I buy something new. Like, "Do I really need this?" and "Will this actually fit in my closet or will I have to start storing clothes in my oven?" (Side note: don't store clothes in your oven. Learned that one the hard way when I decided to make surprise cupcakes for my boyfriend. Nothing says "I love you" quite like the smell of burning polyester.)

I've also started unfollowing all those Instagram influencers who make me feel bad about my wardrobe. Sorry, Kylie, but I don't need to see another post about how I simply must have this season's must-have $500 sneakers. The only thing running in my life is my nose during allergy season.

Reuse - AKA Wearing Shit More Than Once

Next up is reuse. And no, it doesn't mean wearing the same underwear for a week straight. Trust me, I learned that lesson the hard way in college. Let's just say, there's a reason my roommate started calling me "Febreze Fran".

Reusing clothes is all about getting creative. Like, remember that dress from my cousin's wedding? The one with the punch stain that looks suspiciously like the state of Florida? Well, slap a cardigan over it, and bam! Work outfit. My coworkers probably think I'm color blind or going through some kind of tropical phase, but whatever. It's called fashion, look it up.

I've also started raiding my boyfriend's closet. Turns out, oversized is in. Who knew my fashion salvation would come in the form of ratty band t-shirts and hoodies that smell vaguely of Doritos and regret?

The real challenge is accessorizing. Turns out, a statement necklace can hide a multitude of sins. Wine stains, spaghetti sauce splatters, that weird deodorant residue that never quite washes out - a chunky piece of jewelry is like the fashion equivalent of sweeping dirt under the rug. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

Recycle - 'Cause Landfills Are So Last Season

Recycling clothes is weird, man. It's not like throwing a bottle in the blue bin and feeling smug about saving the planet. You gotta know what can actually be recycled. Turns out, that shirt made of god-knows-what material that I bought at a gas station at 3 AM (don't ask)? Not recyclable. Who knew?

I tried to recycle a bunch of old clothes once. Ended up with a garbage bag full of mismatched socks, a sense of deep, existential dread, and a newfound respect for whoever sorts this crap. Also found $20 in an old jacket pocket, so not a total loss.

The real kicker was when I tried to recycle my ex's clothes he left behind. Turns out, the recycling center doesn't accept items soaked in tears and regret. Go figure.

I did manage to recycle some old t-shirts into cleaning rags. Now every time I mop my floor, I'm reminded of that phase when I thought slogan tees were the height of fashion. Nothing says "adulting" quite like wiping up spills with a shirt that says "Tequila Made Me Do It".

Repair - Channeling My Inner Grandma (And Failing Miserably)

Repairing clothes. Yeah, 'cause I'm totally qualified to perform surgery on my favorite jeans. Spoiler alert: I'm not. My idea of "mending" usually involves safety pins and hope.

My first attempt at sewing ended with me literally pinning my shirt to my bra. While I was wearing it. Had to call my mom to rescue me. Nothing says "I've got my life together" quite like your mother unpinning your clothes while you stand there in your thirties, questioning every life decision that led to this moment.

I did manage to sew a button back on once. Felt like I'd just performed open-heart surgery. Was riding that high until I realized I'd sewn it to the wrong side. Now I have a shirt that buttons backwards. I tell people it's European couture. They don't believe me.

Now I stick to iron-on patches and prayer. My jeans look like they've been through a war, but hey, at least they're not in a landfill. Although, given how they smell after I attempt to "fix" them, maybe the landfill wouldn't be so bad.

Rent - Like Netflix, But For Your Body (And Way More Stressful)

Renting clothes sounded great until I realized I'd have to return them clean and in one piece. Do you know how hard it is to not spill wine on a borrowed dress? Very. Very hard. Especially when you're a klutz with a drinking problem (the problem being that I spill more than I drink).

I rented a designer dress for my high school reunion. Felt like a million bucks until I realized the zipper was stuck. Spent half the night in the bathroom, sweating like a sinner in church, trying to wiggle out of this contraption. Finally got it off, only to realize I'd forgotten to bring a change of clothes. Had to MacGyver a toga out of paper towels. Class of '08 now thinks I'm in a cult. Cool.

Also, turns out, "dry clean only" is not a suggestion. It's a threat. Who knew sequins could melt? Not me, that's for sure. Had to sell a kidney to pay for the damages. On the bright side, I now know a guy who can remove wine stains from literally anything. His name's Steve. He's seen things. Terrible things.

Resell - Turning Fashion Mistakes Into Cash (And Emotional Baggage)

Reselling clothes online is like trying to convince people your ex wasn't that bad. "Gently used" is code for "I wore this once, realized it was a horrible mistake, and now I'm trying to recoup my losses."

Tried to sell some of my old clothes on one of those apps. Spent hours taking photos, writing descriptions, answering questions. "No, the stain isn't noticeable if you squint and tilt your head 45 degrees to the left."

Finally made a sale. Was so excited until I realized I'd grossly underestimated shipping costs. Ended up paying more to ship the damn thing than I made from the sale. Economics degree finally paying off.

Pro tip: Don't try to sell clothes with pet hair on them. Especially if you don't own a pet. Trust me on this one. Had to have a very awkward conversation with a buyer about why there was cat hair all over the "never worn" dress I was selling. Turns out my neighbor's cat had been using my laundry basket as a bed. Thanks, Mr. Whiskers.

Reimagine - Massacre Your Clothes For Fashion (And Your Self-Esteem)

Last up, reimagining. Or as I like to call it, "How I Turned A Perfectly Good Shirt Into A Dish Rag." It's like Project Runway, if Project Runway was filmed in a dumpster and hosted by a raccoon.

Tried to turn an old dress into a skirt once. Ended up with what can only be described as a denim diaper. Not my finest moment. Wore it to brunch anyway because I'm nothing if not committed to my mistakes. My friends now stage regular interventions for my "crafting problem."

Then there was the Great Crop Top Incident of 2022. Thought I'd hop on the trend, took scissors to all my t-shirts. Turns out, there's a reason crop tops aren't usually marketed to women in their thirties who consider wine and cheese a balanced meal. My belly button hasn't seen this much daylight since the 90s.

But you know what? I'm not giving up. Between the fashion disasters and the sewing machine injuries (pro tip: thimbles are not just for old ladies), I like to think I'm making a difference. Or at least, I'm making my credit card cry a little less.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a hot date with a pile of clothes and a "How to Sew for Dummies" book. Wish me luck – I'm gonna need it. Maybe this time I'll manage to make something wearable. Or at least something that won't get me arrested for public indecency. Baby steps, right?

FAQ:

Q: Do I really need to follow all 7 Rs?

A: Nah, even doing one or two is better than nothing. Baby steps, people.

Q: Isn't sustainable fashion just for rich hipsters?

A: About as much as fast fashion is just for broke college students. AKA, not at all.

Q: Can't I just donate all my old clothes to charity?

A: You can, but a lot of those clothes end up in landfills anyway. Maybe try the other Rs first.

Q: Is it really worth the effort?

A: Is not drowning in a sea of our own trash worth the effort? I'd say so.