The Value of Our Clothing
Clothing is a valuable asset. In its most basic form, clothing protects against the world around us. A coat protects us from bracing winds. A scarf warming us up from the chill in the air. A pair of cotton trousers keeps us cool in the sweltering heat. Their cruciality goes a lot deeper. Through clothing, we weave the threads of our layered personality, what we care about and who we aspire to be into the fabric of our identity. How we dress doesn’t just affect how the world sees us but, more importantly, how we see ourselves.
Growing up, I would dread non-uniform days at secondary school. Being an anxious A-type personality, I planned weeks ahead, sometimes even buying new clothes for the day especially. This wasn’t because I was excited at the thought of strutting to my chemistry lesson in a new outfit. I would become riddled with stress over the idea of someone glaring at me, looking at me up and down as they meticulously judged my outfit. So much so, my clothing became an invisibility cloak. Looking back, I feared not wearing the school uniform so much because I didn’t know who I wanted to be outside those school walls. The conformity of wearing a school uniform subconsciously made me retreat from anything but the norms I saw around me. The last non-uniform day I remember, I ended up wearing a black and white Nike t-shirt, Primark black leggings and a pair of Adidas Superstars with leopard print stripes (probably the only part of the shoe I actually liked). No one looked my way and my face wasn’t rendered a blinding shade of tomato.
After school I became less fussed about what people thought of me, and what I was wearing, which meant I was engaging with the erratic trends influencers and big brands would preach far less. As my identity evolved, so did my style. I started avidly charity shopping and I fell in love. Stitching together different styles, decades (my favourites being the 70s and 90s) and materials, I curated outfits which represented me. I was truly wearing myself on my sleeve. Beckoning in the start of self-acceptance, instead of valuing a piece of clothing for how others would perceive it or its monetary value, I value it for how it makes me feel when I wear it.
In the haste of getting ready each morning, I do admittingly forget how personally I value my clothes. Rummaging through my draws, tugging out a creased top, aggressively shoving my head through the head hole only to decide it’s not right for today, throwing it to the floor. Hearing that nasty scraping sound of the metal hanger streak across the wardrobe rail as I sweep through each item of clothing, I would watch an item fall off its hanger not caring to pick it up. Choosing not to look after or maintain my clothes in the way they deserve is simply because I don’t have the time or can’t be arsed. In fleeting moments such as these the novelty of our clothes wears off in a second and even though it is only a second it has a drastic effect on how we view our clothes.
Similarly to how I blatantly dispose of my clothes to my bedroom floor each morning, 92 million tons of textile waste is discarded each year. As the number of clothing items in circulation increases, their quality and price gets cheaper. For charity shops who are drowning in donations, much of the donated clothes they receive are now considered rubbish. Charities are forced to export the clothing either to landfill or countries like Ghana, Nigeria and Pakistan, where they receive millions of used clothes from the global north (the UK, the U.S and China). Every week, 15 million clothing items are received in Ghana alone. Nearly half of these clothes are unsellable. Many used clothes are discarded to dumpsites or burnt, leading to severe contamination of the air and water resources putting the health of locals at severe risk.
Just last week, the Kantamanto Secondhand Clothing Market, responsible for recirculating 25 million pieces of secondhand clothing every month through resale, reuse, and repair, burnt down. The loss of the market, once a hub of business and a necessary alternative to fast fashion, has devastated the country's capital of Accra. It is estimated 30,000 people were dependent on the market for their livelihood, per the The Or Foundation. Kantamanto Market is a prime example of how local initiatives drive global change providing a lifeline to local communities and a more sustainable fashion economy. Ghanaian authorities are currently conducting an investigation to determine the cause of the fire.
Of course, there are efforts to reduce overconsumption. Buying preloved fashion and loaning within the fashion industry has become immensely popular in the last few years. Just one of the many fashion rental platforms, By Rotation, which marked its fifth anniversary in October last year, is expected to double in value from $1.3 billion in 2021 to $2.8 billion by 2030, according to Forbes. But surprisingly, only 12% of clothing is recycled globally. Meanwhile, clothing manufacturers are making efforts to stop using polyester, a cheap plastic fibre which is to thank for the fashion industry’s growth and worsening environmental footprint, in favour of recyclable alternatives.
While we hold a value to our clothing, whether that be monetary or emotional, as soon as we donate or dispose of an item, why do we turn off the value we once had for it just because it isn’t ours anymore? There have been welcomed efforts to bridge that lack of proximity. In November 2024, outside the Palladium Shopping Mall, Prague, four tons of unwanted clothing was dumped to draw attention to the growing problem of textile waste. British fashion designer Lucy Tamman launched her ‘One Dress: PLANET’ at London Fashion Week Spring/Summer 2025 in support of Stop Ecocide. The collaborative project challenged the way we buy fashion. Instead of buying a replica of one design, customers are able to buy small embroideries of diverse plant species endangered by human destruction which will be added to the runway dress. Say NO to Shein also launched its petition (which now has over 45,000 signatures) gaining headline coverage to stop the fast fashion giant, alleged to have forced labour and unethical business practises, listing on the London Stock Exchange.
Not enough of us are going to stop shopping to make a dent in those 92 million tons of waste. But at the rate we shop and over consume we have to start questioning our shopping habits. Are we addicted to the feeling of buying? That specific feeling of want disguised as need: “I have to get it, don’t I?”. Needing to feel that confidence, spontaneity, excitement, or nervousness that only a new piece of clothing can provide. I, like many others, am so emotionally connected to my clothes but maybe that's the problem. With the suffocation of clothing the world is experiencing, we have to stop, slow down and think about the purchases we a making before we are emotionally tethered an item.
Our want for new things will never go away, especially for products like clothing which have such an intrinsic defining link to who we are as people. Before we buy we need to start questioning the value we hold to our clothing. How long will I value this item for? What is the value of the clothing itself? What is it made from? Where was it made? Who made it? How many ways can I wear it? When we regularly and honestly start asking ourselves these questions our clothes will only be worth more.
If you are able, please consider donating to the relief efforts for Kantomanto Market and its retailers.