Gen Z and the fast fashion paradox

Every young person knows Shein. Dubbed by Time magazine as the world’s most popular fashion brand, the Chinese label has amassed a devoted following of fashion-conscious youth seeking affordable trends. With its focus on ultrafast fashion, launching thousands of new styles daily, Shein raked in $23 billion in revenue in 2022. In the Philippines, the brand’s massive reach could be seen in the huge number of “shopping haul videos” posted by local TikTok users to flaunt their large Shein purchases.

Last week, however, the brand faced intense backlash as critics expressed their vehement opposition to propaganda-like content promoting the brand’s manufacturing practices. These videos were created by six young influencers who joined a Shein-sponsored trip to China, ostensibly to observe the clothing production process. Many were quick to point out that the factory the influencers visited was merely a “model unit,” and does not represent the working conditions in the 6,000 factories that the company hires to produce its items. The influencers were also heavily criticized for readily echoing the company’s press release and disregarding independently published reports on the brand’s problematic supply chain. Among these is a 2022 documentary that exposed how some workers are forced to pull in 18-hour shifts to meet the large volume of orders. As sustainability has become both a trend and an essential business practice, this incident illustrates how easily young influencers, could be naively co-opted into helping controversial brands establish a facade of sustainability and ethics.

Generation Z, the cohort born between 1995 and 2010, is often praised for their social and environmental awareness. Having grown up in a world threatened by climate change, resource insecurity, and waste pollution, many Gen Zers are vocal advocates for better environmental practices and conscious consumption. However, numerous studies indicate that young consumers struggle to uphold their sustainability values in the face of cheap, trendy clothing. In a 2020 study entitled “The Fast Fashion Paradox,” researchers Malthe Overgaard and Nikolas Rønholt found that even if the environmental impact was a major concern for young consumers, it did not necessarily translate into actual purchasing behavior. This discrepancy is in large part to the pressure brought about by social media to follow the rapid turnover of trends as a form of self-expression, but with a very limited budget to do so. As Overgaard shared in an interview, “It’s become trendy to label yourself as a sustainable consumer, but it’s another thing to see it reflected in your behavior.”

Perhaps the desire to reconcile these conflicting ideals renders young people quite vulnerable to readily embracing branded “green initiatives,” even if they primarily serve as optics rather than genuine steps toward achieving a sustainable value chain. Coupled with the allure of easy money, sponsored travel, and free merchandise, then it is easy to understand why many influencers are unlikely to thoroughly scrutinize these companies’ curated narratives or decline paid opportunities.

At the heart of this issue is the need to reclaim the concept of conscious choice from marketing campaigns that erroneously encourage young people to consume more, sans the guilt. Our focus should be on enhancing consumer awareness of the complex interdependencies within our ecological, social, and economic systems, and how these dynamics directly relate to their lives. We need to have education programs that would compel people to think more critically about their fashion footprint, and the negative impact that a rapid consumption mindset could have on the planet and our collective future.

One promising approach comes from Aditi Mayer, a Gen Z sustainability activist who is using her online platforms to challenge “disposability” culture and our tendency to feel detached from the clothes we buy. By helping young consumers have a more intimate understanding of the true cost of every garment in terms of natural resources, manual labor, and cultural impact, Mayer hopes she could encourage more people to adopt a lifestyle that actively resists extraction and exploitation. Locally, sustainable brands, like ANTHILL Fabric, exemplify efforts to humanize the production process by sharing the stories of the people who make their clothes. For instance, I had known that Ate Belen, a seamstress ANTHILL works with, was saving up for a new sewing machine—a fact that made me value the clothes I bought from them even more.

As for Shein, it is doubtful that public criticism will affect the company’s bottom line. Unfortunately, it is more likely to tarnish the reputation of the young female influencers, who in my view, were unwittingly exploited for their lack of understanding of supply chains. May they learn from this experience and exercise greater discernment when deciding which brands to lend their voices to.

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eleanor@shetalksasia.com