Loose Thoughts: On making a difference with our everyday choices

Can we actually make a difference by choosing to make values-based decisions in even the most mundane aspects of our lives?

Dear fashion friends,

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what I’ve started to call “everyday activism” in my mind—or what I think corresponds to living by the standard of “putting our money where our mouth is” and considering every small choice of how we spend and consume a meaningful act that contributes to creating the world we wish to live in.

Maybe “microactivism” is a better term.

But the point is that I’ve been obsessing over how we can—and in fact we do—make a difference with pretty much every single decision we make while living our most mundane lives.

Think, for example, the foods and drinks and medicines we buy and ingest, whether in the supermarket or when we eat out. Or the products we choose to apply or not on our skin and bodies. Or (you know it’s coming) how we choose to dress our bodies even when we’re not leaving our homes.

At this point you may know that I’ve become increasingly attuned to my values over the years and have committed to living a life that aligns with them in every way I can—starting, of course, with fashion.

That’s why I decided to stop buying fast fashion more than a decade ago, before it became a thing. That’s why I’ve embraced my boldest, most colorful style after I emigrated from Colombia to the US and later the UK. That’s why I’ve started to wear Latinx, Latin American, and Indigenous brands almost exclusively, especially if I’m giving a talk or going to a fashion event.

But a series of conversations with friends recently has made me realize that what I’ve naturalized as my (perhaps very political) consumption habits are far from relatable. The realization of course sparked a whole spiral. I’m so convinced that every little act adds up that I want to lure more people into following my steps—even with the nuances. Plus I know from the conversations with my friends and recent discussions in my little corner of the internet that there might be some interest in this form of everyday activism, but it can be difficult to see why it matters, how it truly makes a difference, and how or where to start.

So I’m trying to share some insights today in hopes that they’ll help.

The first and perhaps most important thing I have to say is that embracing values-based consumption habits is a process filled with ups and downs—like life itself—and it requires both courage and compassion to embrace it.

We need courage because we’ll be pushing against a society that runs on constant, mindless consumption and never asks us to stop and think about what we’re consuming (materially, of course, but also mentally, emotionally, psychologically, intellectually, and so forth). Or why we do it. In fact, the system benefits from us not doing so.

And we need compassion because going against the current is really hard work! In a system that primes us to thoughtlessly follow its somewhat undesirable principles and functionings, there are many obstacles to doing things differently. It’s easy to get trapped in the status quo and forget to do the hard work, especially if we’re caught up with the already intense demands of life. So we will inevitably stray away from doing the work and we need compassion to remind us to come back if, when, and as we can.

Second, there’s always a catch. Every single decision—at least in the system that we live in—will have to come from some sort of dilemma, meaning that there’s never a straightforward, purely “positive” decision. I don’t shop a lot but if I want to continue supporting Latin American and Indigenous brands while I’m in the UK, I might need to accept the higher environmental costs of shipping them across the world or traveling to get them. My friend Kaitlyn from Sass and Cellulite shared on Instagram the other day that she often has to buy things online, many times needing to order more than one size to try at home and then return what doesn’t work, simply because very few brands offer a full range of sizes in-store.

Another of my recent dilemmas is around an Indigenous designer I adore who has her clothes made in China and using synthetic materials—both of which I try to avoid. My dilemma here is whether to still buy for her because I support her and want to be the best ally I can of Indigenous people in Turtle Mountain, or if I should privilege my ethical concerns over the environment and working conditions. I haven’t spoken to this particular designer about her choices but I suspect she uses synthetic materials and Chinese manufacture as a way to keep prices low and stay competitive in a very saturated market.

All of these examples may sound like a simple retelling of personal decisions. But when we stop to think about them, we can see that all instances are linked to systemic issues and I think they illustrate how complex our buying and making decisions can be.

As small as they sound, all of these actions can add up to at least spark larger changes in the fashion industry and how our society functions more broadly. For example, if more of us stopped buying so many clothes and spent the same amount of money buying fewer things more mindfully, then we might be able to support businesses we love and know so that they can use better products and improve working conditions at all levels of the supply chain. If more of us choose to buy specifically from brands owned by “people of color” (for lack of a better umbrella term) even from mainstream retail chains, then the managers would see a need to continue selling diverse brands—regardless of whether they get rid of their DEI-labeled initiatives or not.

In the end, it’s all a matter of sales numbers that we can help define with our own, personal, conscious choices.

So where or how we choose to spend our money does matter.

And finally: how—or where—to start?

Well, by trying to understand your values and slowly begin to align your consumption practices with them. My own conscious journey into values started no later than my first semester as a graduate student at Parsons in 2014. Since then, I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on what truly matters to me, often (re)evaluating it by journaling and sharing it with my family, friends, support groups, coaches, and mentors. And every so often I go back to analyze how I’m upholding my values in different aspects of my life—starting, again, with my most mundane choices, including how I dress. I even have a special journal of “fashion practices” where I’ve been keeping track of my values and how they align with my style for more than a decade now.

And it works. Not just for me, but I’ve also seen it with my friends, family, and more recently, the first clients of my Redress Your Style coaching program. Now that I’m thinking about it, maybe I should dedicate a space to what this journal is all about and share some prompts with you. Would you be interested?

In the meantime, I’d love to hear your thoughts and any insights on how you, personally, align your style and other everyday practices with your values or how you engage in “microactivism” in your daily life. Please, please, please share your ideas by leaving a comment, reaching out to me on social media, or replying to my email newsletter.

Oh, and if you want to talk more about the past and present (and future?) of sustainable fashion, please consider joining us at Redressing Fashion book club. This month we’re reading Historical Perspectives on Sustainable Fashion: Inspiration for Change* by Amy Twigger Holroyd, Jennifer Farley Gordon and Colleen Hill (2023) and I can’t wait to share our thoughts in our next session!

As always, thank you, thank you for reading, watching, and joining the conversation.

Until next time,

—L 🩷

*Titles marked with an asterisk contain affiliate links, meaning that I may earn a small commission if you purchase the books through them.