Every January I go through the exact same process — standing in front of my closet in Seattle’s continuous drizzle; gazing at my winter clothing from the previous year and feeling completely fake. As someone who claims to be an advocate of sustainable fashion, I’m guilty of having approximately half of my cold-weather garments either deteriorate within a single season or produced from materials that likely ravaged an entire ecosystem. Honestly, it’s a little depressing.
Sustainable winter fashion is the most complicated form of sustainable fashion. Sustainable fashion is difficult to understand and navigate in general. Winter clothing requires functionality to maintain the ability to keep you warm and dry while maintaining the integrity of the garment. However, winter clothing is also usually the most costly item in your wardrobe. Therefore, when attempting to shop sustainably, and you require a winter coat that will cost $400 instead of $89 at Target, the financial realities become quite apparent.
I have obsessed with this issue since moving to Seattle seven years ago. I grew up in Boulder, CO. My winter wardrobe consisted primarily of hand-me-downs from my older cousins and whatever my mom found at clothing swaps at the local co-op. I was mortified by it then – all of my friends wore the same North Face brand clothing. Looking back, that was probably the most sustainable method I have utilized to dress myself for winter. I simply didn’t recognise it at the time.
When I first became serious about ethical fashion five years ago, I made virtually every possible mistake with regard to winter garments. I purchased a beautiful $300 “eco-friendly” wool coat from a company that ultimately revealed themselves to be full-time greenwashers — the wool was not sourced ethically and the factory conditions were substandard. The coat began to pill after three weeks and developed these strange stains that no amount of dry cleaning could remove. Simultaneously, I threw away a nearly perfect vintage wool coat that I had previously purchased for pennies at a thrift store due to my fervor with only purchasing items from certified eco-friendly companies.
Oh boy, I was extremely rigid regarding this all back then. I remember spending hours researching each of my winter purchases — researching certifications, studying supply chains until my eyes glaze over. What should have been simple shopping experiences, I transformed into extensive examinations of ethics. My friend Maya would always say that I conducted a United Nations Peacekeeping Mission every time I went to purchase a sweater.
Reality cheque hit during my second Seattle winter. My expensive eco-friendly coat failed miserably during a January snowstorm. I was walking to a client meeting and I got thoroughly drenched — it turns out the “water-resistance” wool was not actually waterproof. Shockingly, not to anyone else but to me. I ended up buying a $40 rain jacket from REI’s Clearance Rack out of utter desperation. You know what? That thing lasted three years and worked every single time I wore it.
At this point, I began to be more pragmatic about what “sustainable winter fashion” actually means in practice. It’s not about locating the perfect eco-friendly brand for each individual item. There are such brands available and I’ll discuss them later. It’s about creating a winter wardrobe that lasts, that you wear regularly, and that functions according to your real-life requirements as opposed to your idealized version of yourself.
My present winter wardrobe consists of this vintage military surplus wool coat that I located at a thrift store in Fremont two years ago. Cost me twenty-five dollars. Built circa 1985. Wool is so thick you can almost certainly use it as body armor. Additionally, there is an amazing interior lining that zips in and out. I’ve worn it for two winters in Seattle. It appears exactly the same as it did when I purchased it. Compare this to the number of friends I have that have cycled through three or four Zara coats in the same time frame.
There is an added benefit to purchasing vintage and second-hand winter clothing. The quality is typically far superior to items that can be purchased new — regardless of the price of the new item. Items created prior to the advent of planned obsolescence were designed to function for extended periods of time. I possess a 1970s sheepskin lined leather jacket. I acquired it at a consignment store. It has survived every type of Seattle weather imaginable. It still appears incredibly well.
However, I will be candid. Thrift shopping for winter clothing necessitates a tremendous deal of patience and good fortune. You cannot simply enter a thrift store in November and anticipate discovering the perfect winter coat in your size. I have learned to shop for next winter’s clothing during the current winter months. In Seattle, people generally donate their winter clothing during the months of January and February. These are the months when the best second-hand items appear in stores. I discovered an excellent down-filled puffy coat from Patagonia (retailed at $300. Paid $45). I didn’t require it until the following November. Nonetheless, I purchased it since I recognised that I would not locate an additional one.
In terms of items that I can’t discover secondhand — and I’m sure you realise I’m referring to the fact that sometimes you merely require specific items in particular colours — I have identified several brands that truly do sustainable fashion correctly and not merely talk about it. Patagonia, of course. However, their merchandise is very pricey and occasionally a tad too outdoorsy for my everyday activities. I have experienced greater success with Everlane for essentials such as merino wool sweaters and their ReNew product line constructed using recycled plastic containers.
The sweater scenario was actually one of my largest break-throughs. I formerly acquired low-cost acrylic sweaters from fast fashion retailers. I replaced them repeatedly throughout the year due to the fact that they would develop unpleasant stretches, pilling, or merely appear unattractive following multiple washings. Currently, I invest in one or two top-quality wool sweaters annually — either vintage pieces or from companies such as Ganni or & Other Stories when they’re discounted. I’ve got this cream-colored fisherman’s knit from a vintage store that is likely twenty years old. It still appears flawless because wool simply endures if treated correctly.
Learning how to properly care for winter garments was something that I was forced to do the hard way. Dry cleaning every garment isn’t the most effective technique — it’s costly and utilizes hazardous substances. Furthermore, numerous garments do not actually require dry cleaning. I spent money on a garment steamer. I learned how to properly hand-wash wool for smaller garments. My cashmere scarves (all secondhand, because $200 for a new cashmere scarf is utterly absurd) receive the hand-washing treatment and have endured for years.
Accessories are an area where you may effectively implement sustainable winter dressing on a limited budget. A high-quality wool scarf, hat, and gloves set may create a polished appearance with basic items. I possess a selection of vintage silk scarves that I utilize frequently. They add colour and texture to my largely monochromatic coat collection. Silk is unexpectedly warm given its light weight. I discovered most of them at estate sales for less than $10 apiece. Accessories are an area where you can produce sustainable winter dressing inexpensively. You can never go wrong with an accessory that never goes out of fashion.
Boots were my greatest obstacle. I walk everywhere in Seattle and I require footwear that can manage rain, cold, and sufficient professionalism to participate in workplace meetings. I had a multitude of dreadful boots — boots that were not waterproof, boots that were waterproof but appeared as if I was prepared to hike, and expensive “eco-friendly” boots that disintegrated within a single winter. I finally invested in a pair of Blundstones two years ago. Yes, they cost $200. Yes, I was sickened at the thought of investing that much money in boots. Nevertheless, they have been worth every dollar. They are entirely waterproof, sufficiently comfortable to allow me to walk for miles, and they remain fashionable with both jeans and office attire.
Layering strategy has been critical to producing fewer pieces that operate harder. Rather than acquiring a separate-weight coat for every possible temperature variation, I have my heavy wool coat, my lighter wool cardigan coat for milder temperatures, and a variety of sweaters and long-sleeved tops that I can combine based upon the degree of cold. This strategy allows me to maintain eight coats in storage. I actually wear everything in my wardrobe.
Base layers have been an epiphany that I was embarrassingly late to arrive at. Excellent merino wool long-sleeve tops and merino wool leggings enable you to wear your normal clothing at significantly colder temperatures without appearing bulky. I have three long-sleeve merino wool shirts from Smartwool that I wear continually beneath anything. They were expensive initially, however I have worn them for three years. They remain in excellent condition. Compare this to the cotton long-sleeve tops I used to layer underneath. They would stretch out and grow distorted after a year.
One area where I continue to struggle is formal winter attire. Cocktail parties and formal events during the winter months when you want to be fashionable yet also not perish from hypothermia walking from your vehicle to the event. I have discovered a few vintage wool coats that are formal enough for cocktail events. I have this magnificent 1960s coat that is formal enough for formal events. However, it remains a work in progress. It seems the sustainable fashion community assumes you are either hiking or wearing jeans for the duration of the winter months.
What I have realised is that sustainable winter dressing is not about identifying the ideal eco-friendly brand for every single garment. It is about being strategic. Acquire fewer higher-quality products. Care for what you acquire. Prioritize your own closet when considering shopping for new items. I rediscovered numerous items I had forgotten existed when I completed a thorough closet inventory last autumn. Accept that on occasion, the most sustainable option may involve purchasing a non-eco-friendly garment that you will wear for ten years instead of an eco-friendly garment that you will discard after two.
Honestly, I am still working to figure it out. I panicked-purchased a low-cost polyester scarf last month because I required a particular item for an event and had not adequately prepared. I felt awful about it for days. Which is likely a poor relationship with consumption. Nonetheless, that is where I am currently. The objective is to achieve development, not perfection. However, there are times when the development occurs at an agonizingly slow pace.
Seattle’s climate assists — it’s not as chilly as cities like Minneapolis or Boston, therefore I don’t require the same degree of technical winter apparel. However, the constant dampness necessitates that every item of apparel must be at least water-resistant. This limits my choices. I have begun treating my winter apparel as a form of investment. A handful of essential products that perform well. Smaller additions to my wardrobe as I locate suitable second-hand goods or determine areas of my wardrobe that are missing.
This year I intend to focus on locating a sustainable alternative to my aged rain boots and perhaps one additional warmer sweater. This represents my complete winter wardrobe. It has taken five years for me to develop a winter wardrobe that maintains my warmth, is visually acceptable, and does not lead me to believe I am personally accountable for the destruction of the planet each time I dress.
