“Green is the new black? More like a well-executed marketing trick.” Speaking in 2021 is Stella McCartney, pioneer of ethical fashion. A sentence that stings like a pin stuck in a cashmere jacket. And which encapsulates, in seven words, the great misunderstanding of sustainable fashion: noble in proclamation, confused in deed.
And yet, in the folds of a sector that has always had the habit of dressing well even when it was bad, serious experiments are beginning to emerge. Precise, concrete ideas. Not utopian mirages, but tangible attempts to stitch together style and conscience. Three projects – very different from each other, but similar in spirit – are trying to bring the word of sustainability to where waste and opulence often reigned.
The first to make headlines was John Galliano with Recicla, his creation for Maison Margiela. Those familiar with the designer’s distinctive and refined language know that nothing is ever left to chance. With Recicla, Galliano takes the idea of Replica (faithfully reproducing archive garments) and charges it with a new energy: instead of copying, he recycles. He cuts, reassembles, stitches. A hiker’s jacket becomes part of an evening dress. A bourgeois trench coat marries a beekeeper’s hat. We want to talk about the iconic Tabi mixed with Instapump, proposed in trainer version thanks to the collaboration with Reebok. The result? It’s not just a collage, it’s a hybridisation – as if an explorer and a duchess had ended up together in the washing machine. But the most brilliant idea is not aesthetic, it is ideological: to give new life to the existing without disguising it, without hiding its origin. Recicla clothes carry talking labels, with place and date of origin. An identity card sewn on. Fashion is no longer ashamed of its past: it puts it on display.
Then there is Miomojo, a small but fierce Italian company. Specialising in sustainable accessories, it is one of the few B Corp in the sector. Its stroke of genius? Collaborating with Udinese Calcio, a team that has made sustainability a real flag, not just a flag-waving one. Together they launched a line of accessories made from an almost miraculous material: waste from the olive oil industry. Yes, that’s right. Where we see bottle bottoms, they see futures. The process is as simple as it is revolutionary: those leftovers, instead of being thrown away, are combined with synthetics substances and thermo-applied to a cotton base in order to become a durable, waterproof, beautiful fabrics. Unlike so many eco-chic gimmicks, the point here is not to make a scene but to lead the way: an away bag that lasts ten years is more sustainable than a compostable wallet that falls apart under the lash of the first rains.
Finally, Zerow. Start-up name, revolutionary ambition. Its mission is clear: to save quality materials – those fine fabrics and leathers that lie forgotten in the warehouses of big companies – and put them back into circulation. Instead of producing new, Zerow prefers to reactivate the existing. And it does not do it alone. It involves artisans, emerging designers, visual artists. The Fashion Beyond Waste project, held in Florence, was a perfect example: 13 brands, three artists, performances, installations. Not a fashion show, but a creative workshop where each piece told of a second chance. The cleverest gimmick? Making the backstage protagonist: not just the finished product, but the process. Because if blind consumption is the problem, the answer is educating the eye.
Three projects, three approaches, three languages, one red thread: sustainability is not worn like a fashionable coat. It is built with patience, rigour, inventiveness. It is not a trick, it is a craft.
Fashion is like a decadent old building: from the outside it may still look charming, but inside it creaks, loses pieces, consumes more than it builds. Yet, you don’t need to tear it down to restart. Sometimes you just need to restore it intelligently, reuse the bricks, change the electrical system. There are a thousand ways to do it.