I’ve been so busy recently - reading, writing, moving the studio - that I haven’t had chance to blog. But I have lots of ideas for things I want to blog about! So I have reminded myself that I don’t need to write the perfect blog post about each one. I figure that it’s better to capture the idea, even if it’s somewhat half-baked, than not at all.
Therefore - here we go with one topic that was sparked by a paper I read for the research project I’m working on, Design Routes.
The topic is the not-particularly-exciting-sounding question of ‘externalities’. Externalities are a concept in economics, which I have heard discussed in terms of sustainability.
Simply speaking (and blatantly borrowing from Wikipedia), externalities are costs that affect a party who did not choose to incur that cost. So, for example, if an industry produces air pollution, which negatively affects the environment (and other people), and the cost of that pollution is not included in the price of the products the industry produces - then that cost is an externality.
This is a big problem in sustainability terms, because it means that the price we pay for goods does not reflect their true cost in environmental and social terms - and so the economic system we live within encourages us to produce and consume at rates which are literally unsustainable.
(Of course, this whole concept is rather narrow-minded, in that it assumes that you can put a price on everything - and suggests that negative impacts are ok, as long as they are costed in. But that’s a problem of economics in general, rather than externalities specifically, I think. I certainly don’t want to see the world through the prism of the market, but I think you can borrow the idea to think about costs in broader, non-quantified terms - such as human costs, social costs, and environmental costs. That would probably (hopefully?!) horrify an economist, but it works for me.)
The other day I came across a paper by Jeff Dayton-Johnson (download it here) about an economic framework for ‘cultural products’ - such as, in the case of our project, designs and products which are associated with particular places, and traditional craft processes. He argues that these cultural products contribute to ‘social goods’ - things which benefit society, like social cohesion and a sense of identity. Thus, the benefits are felt by third parties, external to the organisations and businesses which are producing the cultural products themselves.
Reading this, I suddenly realised that externalities can be positive, as well as negative. (Of course, when I read the Wikipedia page, this was pointed out right away. But it was a revelation to me!)
The paper describes four different types of positive externality associated with cultural products. I particularly like the idea of ‘intergenerational externalities’, in which actions today contribute to a ‘dense and diversified cultural base’ which encourages and enables action in the future - it relates strongly to my idea of the fashion commons.
However, the producers of these cultural products don’t receive payment for the wider benefits they create, or at least contribute to. This is a problem because - to refer to trusty Wikipedia again: ‘if there are external benefits … less of the good may be produced than would be the case if the producer were to receive payment for the external benefits to others’.
I’m certainly not arguing that we should try to quantify social goods - or that craft makers should somehow receive a payment in exchange for their contribution to, say, social cohesion - but I do think that this idea of positive externalities is a useful one in arguing for the importance and value of place-related products and traditional craft processes, beyond the price on the tag.
Presenting an unseen piece of writing from the Keep & Share archives!
I wrote this for publication in early 2010, but I don't think it ever saw the light of day. So, here it is - outlining some four-year-old, but probably still relevant, thoughts on fashion upcycling.
At the end, I've added some present-day reflections!
An Emotional Makeover and other stories: dreaming of upcycling services
Upcycling, at its best, has the potential to add value and dramatically extend the useful life of materials and products. An admirable goal - but as a maker concerned about the huge quantity of clothing bought and thrown away every year, I have a worry. Surely upcycling also has the potential to be a one-off event which simply creates more fashion items to be discarded in the usual way?
Once upon a time, a talented designer decided to set up in business. Wanting to be eco-conscious, she kept her fashion label small-scale and local, and used a particular style of outdated sweater, gathered from local charity shops, as her raw material. With painstaking effort, she re-fashioned the tired old garments to fit in with the latest trend. She was proud of her achievements when she sold each one at a premium price, having added value through her work.
Her pride was short-lived, however - before too long her 'upcycled' items began to appear in the charity shop racks, now out of fashion themselves. Her dismay only increased when the original, dated sweaters became ultra-desirable again, their appeal now described as 'classic'. How many such examples had she destroyed?
In this cautionary tale, the feel-good element disguises the small beneficial impact of this one-off upcycling 'event'. The increase in value is temporary; the upcycling process consumes resources; and the method of upcycling may preclude further future adjustments, consigning the materials in the garment to the scrap heap. This rather depressing scenario is a far cry from the life-affirming, positive upcycling proposed by William McDonough and Michael Braungart (2002). Time to dream of a more uplifting upcycling future...
Our clothing system is almost exclusively focused on the purchase of new garments and their rapid replacement, and upcycling activities that imitate the norm will do little to change it. To really see the benefit of upcycling - the sustaining of material value - we need systems that work in different ways: upcycling services, rather than upcycled products. Let's think of services as actions which add value to existing garments or materials, and replace the purchase of new items.
Upcycling services have the potential to reconfigure our fashion landscape, divorcing fashion from consumption. If we can find ways to satisfy our fashion urges in ways other than the purchase of shiny new garments, our fashion system could become more eco-effective. According to McDonough and Braungart, eco-effective products and services replenish the world, with 'designed-in' positive side effects. Such a situation would mean that far from having to 'go without' to achieve sustainability, we could indulge our urges without guilt. An enticing idea, indeed, and one which may help us to imagine how we can tempt purchase-addicted consumers to change their behaviour.
In a typical upcycling system, materials have different applications over time; when something is no longer useful at one stage, it progresses to the next. Part of the difficulty of conceiving upcycling systems for fashion is that the useful life of a garment is largely defined by non-material, rather than practical, factors.
Van Hinte (1997) describes 'psychological life span' as the time that products are able to be perceived as worthy objects. The psychological life span of a garment is highly personal and subjective. Typically, a garment is high in perceived value at the time of purchase, and gradually loses this appeal as it falls out of favour. Both personal emotions, and a changing fashion context, have the power to affect how valuable we perceive a garment to be. A strong emotional bond has the power to make us want to keep, and keep wearing, a visually unremarkable garment; conversely, our perception of a garment as valuable may be prematurely cut short by fashion magazines deeming its style as totally 'out'. These complex factors combine to make it difficult to identify when a garment's useful life, in its current form, is 'finished'. Our upcycling services, therefore, will need to be creative and versatile, ready to adapt to different scenarios.
Similarly, we must consider that the value we add through upcycling will also be subjective. The fact that clothing serves a range of 'hidden' roles, such as identity and belonging, is at once a potential headache and a great opportunity. It opens up the thought that our upcycling services could be not only physical - such as repairing or re-fashioning - but also non-material, or even a potent combination of the two. Can you imagine a service which, rather than 'making over' your cardigan, instead enhances your emotions and desire for it?
“Contingency is, quite simply, the fact that things could be otherwise than they are.”
William Rasch (2000) quoted by Till (2009, p45)
Let's take a moment to consider the idea of contingency and its relevance to our brave new world of fashion upcycling. Jeremy Till (2009) discusses the fact that buildings are subject to unpredictable external forces, beyond the control of the architect. While great emphasis is placed on the shape and form of a building at its unveiling, the way that a space can cope with the changing needs of its users is far more important over the long term, and often overlooked.
Does this thinking hold lessons for the clothing sector? The media obsession with catwalk images demonstrates that we obsess over the aesthetic appeal of a new fashion look at the expense of a more long term view, just as for buildings. Fashion, too, is intrinsically contingent – our needs change over time, and part of the joy of fashion is the sheer unpredictability of tastes and trends. Somehow, fashion manages to pull off an impressive doublethink, simultaneously acknowledging and denying this fact. A designer presents a new range of garments, with the implication that they should replace those previously offered; but the new collection is given an air of permanance, a denial that they will ever lose their appeal. This hampers both customer and designer in contemplating the period after the purchase 'snapshot'.
The essence of contingency is that we know things will change, but not how, or when. Fashion needs to become more at ease with its contingency, and acknowledge the existence of future, as well as past, changing desires. Our upcycling services – which, after all, will take place in this uncertain future – can then be planned to cope with, and even embrace, whatever the vagaries of fashion happen to throw at us.
Traditional clothing services, such as shoe repair, tend to occur within a narrow remit: an occasional, brief repair 'event', carried out by an expert in a rather mundane transaction. If we're lucky, our shoes are returned back into regular service, but the process is not accompanied by any sense of celebration.
Looking at some quite different upcycling services will help us to broaden out our view. Swap-o-Rama-Rama is a clothing swap event where participants bring unwanted clothing and select new pieces from a donated pile, modifying the pieces to suit them in workshops at the event (Tremayne, undated). While the acquisition of used clothing is nothing new, the sense of community is refreshing. The upcycling here happens within a social group, and is carried out by wearers with the encouraging support of experts. Could the fashion 'buzz' of participating in an event like this replace the buzz of a Saturday shopping session?
The idea behind my Riot & Return label is to invite customers to join a 'clothing library', enabling them to borrow handmade children's clothes and exchange them as the child grows. The garments are designed to embrace the contingency of children: the promise of overprinting and re-cutting by the designer means that each garment will develop and change uniquely, gradually gaining in perceived value with each wearer.
Gary Page's 1-2-6 project offers customers one dress with six lives designed-in, the physical transformations occuring at intervals controlled by the wearer (Earley, 2007). This service is planned out in advance, with re-fashioning 'events' involving several experts. There is an enticing sense of destination – the final stage – but the uniqueness of each step means that the wearer enjoys the journey and the time between each interval.
Worn Relics is an online virtual archive of fashion stories. Participants request a 'Worn Relic' label with a unique code which they sew into a treasured item of clothing, before recording details of the item on the project website (Hoette & ten Hoor, 2009). This non-commercial service has a sense of community and encourages conceptual upcycling: by taking the time to select and profile a favourite item, the wearer is likely to value their piece even more. Any future wearers can also access the profile and enjoy an emotional upcycling boost, when they discover the piece's hidden story.
So, our dream is to move from a world of new products to one of upcycling services, which sustain material value. We're looking for versatile services which satisfy our fashion urges and which embrace the exciting unpredictability of fashion. We know that perceived value is highly subjective, and because we're all different, we'll need a broad diversity of solutions. We have a few inspirational examples, but how will we come up with something new? It may help to consider the full scope of upcycling services by thinking about some contributing factors.
At an idea generation workshop with MA Textiles students at Chelsea College of Art & Design in December 2009, small groups were given random selections of these descriptors and asked to imagine, through discussion and story-telling, what a service that fit those descriptors could look like.
The first selection – physical modifications, continuous process, activity carried out by expert, and linear – inspired a concept where discarded jewellery items were used to adorn tired clothing, and developed into the idea that this service could travel around the world, with each area's distinctive jewellery transported to adorn the next location's garments. Another selection – non-material interventions, many users, cyclical, frequent, continuous process and group activity – led to a hilarious proposal for a drinking game where a group of friends invent fanciful stories to psychologically enhance their everyday items of clothing. Both ideas had an input into the following inspirational tale...
Once upon a time, a talented designer decided to set up in business. She loved fashion, but was bored with the usual way of doing things and hit upon the idea of a 'chain fashion' club.
Paying members of the club were organised into chains of twelve, and asked to select an item of clothing and send it to the next person in their chain. Every month the garments progressed to the next person, and the next, until after a year the well-worn garment returned to its original owner. Members were encouraged to upload photographs of themselves in each garment to the project's website, and gained kudos in the community for contributing a particularly unique item, or for original styling. The owner often reported being more appreciative of their item when it arrived back from its long and eventful journey.
After a tentative start, the project grew and soon specialist and more complex chains were created. The designer found that her members were blogging about their addiction to the club and how they now found 'normal' shopping boring and isolated. She was pleased, and enjoyed thinking of the fashion pleasure and new friendships she had organised.
A more uplifting parable, then, to end, but remember – this is just one story of many. We need to work quickly, and cleverly, to generate the solutions for an enriching fashion future.
Earley, R. (2007) Ever & Again: experimental recycled textiles. London: TED.
Hoette, R. & ten Hoor, H. (2009) Worn Relics. [Online] Available at: http://www.wornrelics.com/ [accessed 19/1/10].
McDonough, W. & Braungart, M. (2002) Cradle to Cradle: remaking the way we make things. New York: North Point Press.
Till, J. (2009) Architecture Depends. Cambridge: The MIT Press.
Tremayne, W. (undated) Swap-o-Rama-Rama. [Online] Available at: http://swaporamarama.org/ [accessed 19/1/10].
van Hinte, E. (Ed.) (1997) Eternally Yours: visions on product endurance. Rotterdam: 010 Publishers.
I'd totally forgotten the detail of what I'd written in this article. Reading it now, I really like the idea of the 'chain fashion' club. I wonder if anyone fancies giving it a go with me, just for fun?
I'd forgotten, too, about the cards I'd made for brainstorming upcycling services - although they are sitting right here, on my bookshelf. I've even just dug through my old notebooks and - amazingly - found my notes for the workshop. Might these be of use to anyone? Should I send them out into the world? Maybe I will, one day soon...
This is the third in the series of three conversations between David Gauntlett and Amy Twigger Holroyd, which we have been posting each Thursday, during May 2014, on our respective blogs (davidgauntlett.com and keepandshare.co.uk).
Our previous two discussions were ‘On design, and systems’ and ‘On sustainability’. This third one takes as its starting point the importance of small steps, which David picked out as a key point in his talks at the Maker Faires in New York and Rome, in September and October last year. We recognised that we have both noted the importance of small steps for some time.
ATH: So to kick off, I wondered if you could describe one situation, related to making, where you feel that small steps are important?
DG: Well my main ‘small steps’ point is that any small step can be a good and powerful step! I mean, where a person is taking a small step into the world of creating and making and sharing, rather than being just a consumer of stuff. So for each person it might be different, but it’s that moment of discovery where you get that feeling of surprise and power, that you actually made something, something that wasn’t there before, and now it is, because you made it! And that it’s kind of unique, and can’t be bought, and nobody else has one quite like it, and you did it yourself.
ATH: Oh yes, that’s nice. Do you have any examples of your own ‘small steps’?
DG: Oh, well memorable ones would be, say, when I got the first box of Powercut zines back from the printer in 1991 – ‘I made this!’. A zine that I had made myself (with contributions from others too – making and connecting). That was quite a big thing rather than a small thing. Similarly, the first time I put a webpage online, where you upload it on one computer and then find it very exciting to go to a different computer – maybe one in someone else’s house! – and find that you can see it on there too! Magic! Well, a 1996 sort of magic for me anyway. Of course that was quite a big deal too. And that was both ‘I made this’ and also ‘Here I am’ – because it was visible to the world. Whereas the Powercut zine was not really visible to the world at the point when it was just a cardboard box with 800 printed copies in it. So there, I had the ‘Here I am’ moments in little bits, later on, like when it was mentioned in a tiny bit on the Guardian women’s page or in a few feminist sort of magazines, or in other people’s zines.
So it would be different for different people, but it’s that moment when you can feel the pleasure of saying ‘Here I am’, and ‘I made this’, because you took some little step into the world of making things, making ideas, rather than the world of consuming other people’s things and ideas.
ATH: Ah yes, I see. So the ‘I made this’ thought is perhaps about a personal, and possibly private, satisfaction in seeing the thing that you have made – and ‘Here I am’ is about seeing that thing existing in the wider world, and being seen by others? I can certainly think of my own versions of that!
DG: Well to be precise (!) – since you’re asking! – and let me explain – these are the points, ‘Here I am’, and ‘I made this’, which I made in my talk at the Maker Faire in Rome, 2013 (see video). I meant ‘I made this’ to be a more emphatic, outward-facing statement, a message to others that, look, I made this thing. That’s the pride in the achievement – a pride which you want to be recognised by others. That ties in with a finding from my research for Making is Connecting, where I looked at studies that had been done about why people liked to make and share things in the offline world, and other studies about why people liked to make and share things in the online world, and a common finding was about the interest in being part of a community with shared interests, but this included a desire for recognition of the contribution that the person made to their community of interest.
ATH: Oh yes, I’ve definitely seen that in my research with knitters – a big part of the satisfaction is about being able to share the story of what you’ve made, and especially with other knitters.
DG: So ‘I made this’ reflects personal satisfaction, but is also a statement to the world. And then ‘Here I am’ backs that up, saying not only that I made this but also that it contains something of myself within it. And that this deserves some recognition. So my points were slightly more outwardly demanding than in your version!
ATH: Interesting – I’m glad I asked! Another thing that I’ve realised about small steps is that one tends to lead to another – they take you on a journey. You do something, and have that feeling of surprise and power – and want to do it again. But this time, you can be a little bolder, and go a little further, because you know a little more about the world you’re stepping into. After a while, you look back and realise how far you’ve come: how much you’ve learned about crochet, or Arduino, or growing vegetables, or whatever. And with each step, you’re likely to become more engaged with a community of fellow enthusiasts, and more knowledgeable about the activity you’re doing – the subtleties of its particular challenges and opportunities for creativity.
DG: Oh that’s nice, I like that – the steps are part of a journey. Of course they are.
ATH: Now, while it’s reasonably straightforward to see that these steps and realisations are important and positive for the individuals involved, I think lots of people would see them as insignificant in the wider scheme of things. But I think we would both agree that these steps into creating, rather than consuming, are actually very significant indeed.
DG: Yes indeed. I think you have helpfully said something we both disagree with, so that I can disagree with it! So, the thing is, it’s not a matter of saying that the small steps are actually, somehow, big steps. We are talking about small steps. But all of these small steps made by different people add up, and pile higher and higher, until you’ve got a huge amount of meaningful activity in your culture which, once it’s all piled up together, is bigger than many other big cultural things. So that’s the macro scale. But the important part is what each of those things means, back on the micro scale. It’s about people changing their sense of being within our culture – recognising that culture is a two-way street, a place for writing as well as reading, singing as well as listening, making as well as taking.
ATH: In my PhD research, I was looking at how homemade clothes could contribute to sustainability. I remember acknowledging in my thesis that this approach could be seen as both over-ambitious and naïve: to think that you can change something as huge and complex as the fashion industry through such personal and individual acts as making and mending clothes. But I honestly feel like it’s potentially more powerful, and certainly more subversive and exciting, to think about change in this way.
DG: Yes exactly – that’s the only way real change works, I think. That’s similar to my wee rant about the ‘critical’ media studies scholars – which appears in this article – who seem satisfied to have come up with a complex theoretical account of what’s wrong with things, but are unable to tell you how this might actually be changed. I think change happens, step by step, little step by little step, as people do things differently. That’s the only way it makes sense. People on the ground start to do things a bit differently, and start to expect things to happen a bit differently, and then this gets absorbed into the more macro-level context of how people in government, or visible in the media, do things, and what they expect things to be like, and then this macro level sets the tone of what is then assumed and expected down at the micro level, which then means the envelope can be pushed a tiny bit more, and so on, and the whole thing goes on in a cycle. This is, in fact, Giddens’s structuration theory in action, sociology fans. Giddens is a sort of middling-left figure politically, not a fully signed up Marxist, but he’s the one who has the theory of how things can actually be changed in modern societies. And it shows the significance of the small steps. As long as there are quite a lot of them.
ATH: Oh yes, that’s a really useful theory, and one that makes a lot of real-world sense. It’s an important reminder to step back and see that macro view, that things really can change – that tides can turn. To share my own current rant, I’ve been frustrated recently by people who seem to think that behaviour only ever moves in one direction – more specifically, that because in recent years, clothes have become cheaper and cheaper, and (on average) people wear them for a much shorter time before disposing of them – that it’s impossible to conceive of any future in which people are happy to keep their clothes for longer, and to pay more for them. Now, this is obviously a very crude view, as it lumps everyone together, as if we all think and behave in the same way – but it’s also depressingly fatalistic. Whereas I think, well if things can change in one direction, surely they can change in another! So, this structuration theory helps me to remember that.
There are so many examples, though, where people feel that any change they might make would be insignificant, compared to the bigger things going on in the world. Like in terms of environmental stuff, and sustainability – that pessimistic view that there’s no point us making little changes to how we live, to reduce our energy usage or carbon emissions or whatever, when however-many coal-fired power stations are being built every year in China. It’s quite hard to challenge that mindset, I think.
But there are a couple of things about small steps in making, in particular, that are different and exciting. Often, the little lifestyle changes that might reduce energy use are worthwhile collectively, but don’t bring any personal benefit (beyond the altruistic satisfaction of ‘doing your bit’, perhaps) – so it’s easy to see why people sometimes feel they are pretty pointless. Making, creating and sharing, though, are personally satisfying – very much so – so there’s the potential for a ‘double dividend’ scenario, where people feel happier, and collectively, their activities become more sustainable.
And the other thing is that – as we discussed in our second blog post – these activities don’t just contribute to environmental and social benefits in a purely technical and pragmatic way, but (surely more powerfully) they start to change how people relate and respond to other people, and the world. So, as you say, these are small steps – but with a potentially big impact in terms of people’s attitudes and perceptions, I think.
DG: Exactly. And it’s like the feminist notion that ‘the personal is political’, which I take to mean a number of things. One is the point that the small stuff of everyday life is important, and if you change that – and other people start to change it too – then you really are changing the world. You actually are. People think they can’t change things, but they can – by changing things, on an everyday level. It’s like the title of the new book by Rob Hopkins: ‘The Power of Just Doing Stuff’. Talking about what’s wrong with the world can play some role – raising awareness, and so on, which is a necessary step – but just doing stuff is much more powerful in the obvious way – it’s tangible, it’s visible, people can experience it and hopefully like it and want to do more of it.
Now – ha – I say this as an exhausted father-of-two who doesn’t visibly do much big world-changing stuff. But thankfully we’re talking about small steps. Small steps make a difference and they’re not too hard. So, being a vegetarian counts – that’s doing something I believe in and it takes precisely no effort at all really. And being enthusiastic about a hands-on approach to creativity and play and learning just amongst the kids and the students that I am directly involved with – that’s something too, because it’s about fostering engagement with the world around us (as we’ve discussed before). And it’s all those choices you make in what you support and don’t support. All those kinds of things.
Anyway, a second meaning of ‘the personal is political’, for me, is I suppose the inverse version of the same thing – so it’s saying that you can’t do political pontification if you don’t try to live up to those ideals in your personal life.
And a third one is that personal stories and experiences are meaningful political things. They’re not trivia. There’s not a hierarchy where people dealing with the things we call ‘politics’ are doing more important stuff than the people who are making their own efforts in different ways. Personal things are just as vital to social change as well.
That might just be three ways of saying the same thing, I don’t know. But it shows that the feminist notion that ‘the personal is political’ was, and is, full of rich meanings, I think!
DG: So, I think that’s about it. I have really enjoyed these conversations.
ATH: Yes, me too. Let’s remind blog readers to make any comments or observations in the comments bit below.
DG: Yes, it would be great to hear absolutely anything that anyone would like to say. Continuing the conversation on the blog with others, below, would be really nice.
[Tiny shoes image by Flickr user Carolina (see original), used under a Creative Commons BY-NC-SA 2.0 licence.]