know where the f**k your clothes come from

know where the f**k your clothes come from

• Nov 10, 2014

Here's the thing. Why the hell have I become one of those excruciating anomaly fashionistas who hate to shop? Is it age that has me tripping all of a sudden, because I'm pretty sure I'm still younger than Lindsay Lohan, and she has it all figured out right? Broadway and all. Or is it just that I can't seem to ever know where my clothes come from in this capitalistic, non-democratic world we live in. I actually love fashion, or the eternal hunt for effortless personal style, rather, yet despise the word fashionista. And let's take a moment to blame TJ Maxx for this, rightfully so, because they took a semi-good thing and added "ista" to the end of it, then blasted it to millions of people, and now every ista and their mother makes me want to barf in someone's new shoes. Yuck. Okay let's continue. So fashion is not really my problem per se. Well, yes fashion is my problem actually. It's superficial, discriminating, indulgent, unethical, murderous, dilapidating, confusing, addictive, fast, and about as transparent as Nicole Kidman, which isn't that much believe it or not. (Side note: if you ask Saks 5th Ave about their transparency ethos you're sent here. Bollocks. Dumber than blondes out of rehab.) But, yet and still, fashion is not the issue. Greed is the issue. Capitalism is the issue. This country is my issue. Other countries too, like the ones where our clothes and accessories and synthetic fluffy fragrances are made. But let me not sound like a hater. Haters gonna hate, right Taylor? I rather do something. And I know you do too because you've emailed and commented that you do. Its one reason I like the mission of Youth Debates. A safe haven forum to air your dirty laundry if your bag of dirt happens to be thoughts on politics, the environment, and everything in between. It got me pondering quite a bit. #problemsolve #dosomeresearch #getoffyourass

I shop. I'm not a stay at home mom, yet, or trust funder, so I don't like online shopping. Yes it's convenient, and oh weee the discount codes, but who gives a crying flipping cracker. I'm from the old-school-tactile-tangible-goods world. Sensory overload. Feel, touch, see. I want to know right away that blouse is polyester posing as silk. That those jeans look good on her ass according to my iMac screen, but will never even lift above my inner thigh gap. That the sweater is mostly acrylic, not wool from Italy like the label claims, and will itch the crap out of me in a do-I-have-herpes-right-now!? kinda way. But I will tell you this. God bless technology, because its oozing with solutions to problems we love to sit around and complain about while doing absolutely nothing to solve them all in a guilt-free way. If you need to be reminded of what guilt-free looks like, tune in to Fox News. Daily.

Let's take shopping local for example. What does that even mean? I get local tomatoes at the market during the summer. Can my wardrobe be curated as easily? Of course not. Within my zip code I'm lucky if there is even a designer's studio in between the Starbucks and H&M storefronts. Not everyone can live in Portland. Oregon or Maine, either one, their both annoyingly perfect and with it. What about just going to a boutique and scoring some local duds that way? Yeah, well the girl who dreamed of opening that boutique can only afford imported hot messes on wholesale from China. No #madeinamerica here. Hmmm. Well surely there's a trunk show coming through? Lucky you, there is! Have $470 for a poly knit throw away dress? That's how much designer shit is worth these days. And yes that's the starter price. Ok well, before we all give up, let's get basic. Let's start simple.

I want to be late to this phenom party known as Everlane. Beyond fashionably late, I know, but sometimes too much hype delays my adoration of things.

And I know you know who they are. I'm not being paid to reveal my infatuation or reignited flame for them. I just had an a ha moment while window shopping and felt like doing an impromptu post that had cuss words in it. So here we are. I have held a fond place for them in my bosom because I like tech startups, they are techy and such, but also really freakin cool and they get it too. Skewing on hipster, but like in a 2006 Brooklyn kind of way. You barely notice. What you do notice is the clothes are scarily affordable. That's their whole gist if you didn't hear. And I have never bought anything. I don't know why! It is mind boggling. I complain and complain just like the next girl. I want the perfect shirt, or chambray, or silk this and that and never gave affordable ethically-produced Everlane a try. It ends here.

Because.
I.
Want.
This.

Must have? Yes people. I am endorsing this as such. A former fashion editor who detests magazine jargon is proclamating and preaching, so listen. (Or don't!) Don't you want to be her? Look at that sideswept hair. Damn. And boobs or no boobs, we all will look good in this shirt. Or your money back. I promise. The key ingredient is its cotton, which alone is one of the most dangerous and brainwashing fabrics out there (thanks a lot Cotton Inc. commercials!), but they go beyond to mix it with tencel. Tencel ya'll, I'm so proud! More on tencel's lyocell later, but its a naturally sustainable new trending eco fabric that I know personally feels like baby's breath. Put your newborn on one cheek, tencel fabric on the other, and I dare you not to drop your baby from distraction. It doesn't end though! I've got more...like an infomercial that sweetens the deal. I just discovered the Everlane shop shares each and every factory they work with. Um whaaaatt? I am so late to this party. I knew they were transparent with pricing, but come on. I was swooning so hard that the swoon energy for Ryan Gosling has permanently shifted on the planet. So get this, all the tees and tanks are made right in Los Angeles. Remember LA? Before American Apparel was sexist and reality tv made it dumb as shit. Yeah, that LA! How do they manage a price point so low and have factories that gleam and sparkle with people who get lunch breaks and fair pay and even, gasp, a bathroom break instead of diapers. I'm in heat. I gotta go. I don't have the money right now, but the next time I am bitching about Marshall's having the same white tanks as last year and Macy's trying to convince me that Alex Wang is THE tee designer for me even at a whopping $198, I'll head over to Everlane and literally visualize where my clothes came from. Boom.

So what about you? Comment below and let me hear all your deep and dirty secrets about shopping when it comes to environmental mindfulness and economic transparency. Or head over to YD and find your kindred spirits.