Last week saw the launch of a shiny new rebranded Oxfam. In London, three
stores have been refurbished and restocked, with plans to roll out the big
idea across the country. Students from the London College of Fashion will
customise Oxfam’s stock of secondhand clothes to transform them into future
pieces of fashion history. And the big idea is that there is a black Hugo
Boss jacket cut up and restitched with fancy new epaulettes. A pair of jeans
artfully ripped in strips down each leg (very Christopher Kane). Some
Barratts shoes covered in a patchwork of vintage ribbon. And a piece of
fabulous glittery gold brocade made into an empire-line shift dress – with a
stuffed tiger sewn onto the shoulder. Well, they are students.
The premise, of course, is that, traditionally, when you buy something from
Oxfam, the first thing you do is attack it with your sewing machine. Now
fashion students have done that for you. Donate your unwanted clothes to
Oxfam and, hey presto, they will become one-off masterpieces by the
designers of the future. The students even get to sew their own labels into
the clothes, so, you never know, one day you might own a bargain piece by a
future McQueen or Galliano.
Clever, huh? No surprises, then, that it’s the brainchild of Jane Shepherdson,
the former Topshop branding director, whose uncanny instinct for what girls
want is credited for the rise of the monster fashion monolith. So, why
hasn’t there been more fanfare? Ordinarily, the relaunch of a famous chain
of shops, particularly one spearheaded by Shepherdson, attracts a spot of
industry buzz. But no – it has been very quiet. Fashion people are more
interested in what Shepherdson will do with the womenswear chain Whistles
(where she is now chief executive) than what she’s up to at Oxfam.
Is it Oxfam’s fault? Or is it ethical fashion? It is undoubtedly hip to be
green – we buy free-range chicken, pour Ecover into our washing-up bowls and
grow our own veg – but is it time to admit that ethical fashion isn’t
actually fashionable?
It’s eco-sacrilege to say it, but it’s true. Telling someone “My blouse is
Mencap, my leggings are from Conscious Giving and my cardie was knitted by
little old ladies in Peru” doesn’t have the same ring to it as “Check out
these three quid earrings from H&M” or “I do love my new Luella
handbag”.
The blame for us not buying it must, therefore, be levelled at the lack of
ethical fashion you really want to wear. And I don’t mean a hat bought off a
man at a festival after a rousing set by Femi Kuti, or a Love Our Earth
T-shirt from a charity stall at a street market. I mean sharp, modern,
impress-your-boss ethical clothes, none of which has so far been available
on the rails of Oxfam – or almost anywhere else.
“Guilt doesn’t drive change, desire does,” Shepherdson says. “If you want
someone to buy a Fairtrade dress, then make sure it looks absolutely
gorgeous. You can’t expect people to do it altruistically, because they
won’t. It needs to be stylish first, and the ethical part needs to be added
value, as in, ‘Oh, it’s ethical, too – perfect.’ ”
Shame, then, that so much of the Fairtrade and organic clothing available is a
fashion no-go for your average trendsetter. “Yes, it’s rubbish at the
moment,” says the eco-fashion warhorse Katharine Hamnett. “But watch this
space: it’s about to get much, much better.”
Hamnett and Shepherdson have cause for optimism. For starters, despite the odd
guilty pleasure, our appetite for cheap, disposable fashion produced at the
expense of human rights and the environment is making us feel increasingly
grotty. “I think it has self-imploded,” Shepherdson says. “It’s all too
accessible. When you can have anything you want for a fiver, you don’t want
it any more. Maybe it’s more interesting to own something that’s harder to
get.” This means that the brands we go to for our daily shopping needs must
change their plans. “The high street is panicking now,” Hamnett says. “For
them, supplying ethical fashion has become an economic imperative, not just
a moral one. If they don’t, they’ll die. They’re all scrabbling to give us
what we want.”
In fact, the best ideas are coming, not from the high street but from the
environmental movement itself. A new gang of hippie capitalists is finally
getting fashion for what it is: a business based on the creation of desire.
They are taking on stylists and designers and upping the taste levels. In
the next 10 years, one of them will get it so right that it will blow
traditional brands out of the water.
One contender is Howies, the Cardiganshire-based outdoor-clothing label that
was recently acquired by Timberland. “Nobody knows which of us it will be,
but there is no doubt that one or two ethical fashion companies will become
the next Nike,” says its founder, David Hieatt. “That growth will be based
not just on sustainability, but on profit.”
Others include Oria, a new ethical gold company founded by a goldsmith and
workshop manager from the jewellery label EC One; From Somewhere, a mini
fashion house that reuses surplus offcuts in ways that give Jonathan
Saunders a run for his money; and Keep & Share, a tiny knitwear brand
that offers a free mending and hand-washing service.
Then there are the shoes that are set to be the fashion essential of summer
2008, from the US brand Toms (see No 3, right). For each pair of simple
espadrille-a-likes bought, the company donates a pair to an African child.
They’re £25 – and dead chic. “They have been surprisingly fashionable,” says
Blake Mycoskie, the founder, who lives on a boat in the Pacific. “And when
you buy them, you sleep well at night, too.”
“Watch this space and stick with us,” Hamnett says. “Next year, you’ll see
ethical fashion improving radically. It’s not a passing fad – it’s a lasting
trend.”
