Here’s the thing: we live in a world where we can have almost anything almost instantly. As a result, we’ve consumed massive volumes of materials—like plastic and clothing—that were never made to last. There has been no effective way to discard these items without polluting the air we breathe, the soil our food grows in, the animals that depend on it, and especially the water we drink. The fashion industry alone is responsible for roughly 20% of global wastewater and 10% of global carbon emissions. To put that into perspective, it takes about 2,000 gallons of water to produce a single pair of jeans and around 700 gallons for one cotton shirt. These are items that should provide long-term value.
The Atacama Desert has become a stark symbol of our fast fashion habits and unsustainable consumption, largely due to poor manufacturing and design practices. While fast fashion brands are often criticized, luxury brands are just as complicit. Companies such as SHEIN, Calvin Klein, Chanel, and H&M have all contributed to the disposal of unsold clothing in vast, beautiful landscapes.
Sometimes, it’s worth investing in a single, high-quality piece rather than multiple disposable ones. The issue isn’t spending money—it’s that what we buy often doesn’t last. Even items from popular brands can be poorly made or degrade after only a few wears and washes, quickly becoming worthless. We’ve lost touch with the value of caring for what we own and making it last. Instead, we’ve grown accustomed to trends constantly shifting, replacing what we have with whatever society deems fashionable in the moment.
Ironically, living sustainably can be expensive, even when the quality of the clothing doesn’t always justify the price. The economy has distorted value to the point where maintaining a sustainable lifestyle can feel more costly than conforming to fast fashion norms.
This tension is part of what motivates my art. My work serves as both a symbol and a reminder to use what you already have—you do not need more. My work serves as a reminder that there may be another use to something you want to throw out. I am here to even offer you the option to give me those things -- cheap clothes, vases, dying flowers -- to give it a second life. While some families pass down jewelry, cars, or watches, others pass down clothing. I grew up wearing hand-me-downs, and I found joy in receiving pieces from my mother or sister because, to me, they felt new.
When I shop—and by that, I mean shopping secondhand—I ask myself: “Can I see my future daughter wearing this?” “Is this versatile enough to style in different ways?” “How long will this actually last?” We need to become more reflective before purchasing items that require so much labor, resources, and money. By understanding what materials are made of and thinking more creatively about how to extend their use, we can begin to reduce waste and make more conscious choices.