Secondhand, Circular, or Just Clever Marketing? Fashion's "Carbon Footprint"
- 10 hours ago
- 4 min read

By: Hanna Mordekhai
In high school, I was honestly always really confused about the whole sustainability movement in fashion. How does every brand have a “green” label? Wasn’t the problem that we were buying too much, too fast, and getting tricked by clever marketing?
It wasn’t until I got to Parsons that the pieces really clicked. Sustainability and environmental impact was a common thread in many of my classes, from fashion design to business strategy. One of my freshman-year professors put it bluntly: “Yeah, a brand can call itself eco-friendly, but if it’s producing clothes non-stop, it’s still hurting the planet. ‘Green’ is relative and, well, doesn’t really mean anything.”
To be quite honest, I never really cared so much for sustainability until I realized it needed my help in the fashion industry. The cadence of fashion is hard to keep up with, and it always feels like 1 step forward and 3 steps back. So I really started to wonder, how can we really reduce our carbon footprint? What initiatives do brands take that actually work, actually mean something?
Here’s the problem, in simple terms: making clothes uses tons of water, energy, and chemicals. Most clothes are made so fast that they often get thrown away after only a few wears, creating massive waste and pollution. Some brands call themselves eco-friendly, but many are just pretending; it’s easier to look green than actually change the way they operate.
Understanding which brands are genuinely making an impact is where the real work begins. And for me, that’s what makes sustainability in fashion so fascinating: it’s not just about buying less, it’s about rethinking how the entire industry works.
The first company I want to bring up that truly passes the test is The RealReal. They didn’t just make it cool to shop second-hand; they made it cool to rethink consumption entirely. More than that, they made selling your old pieces feel just as stylish as buying new ones. Their platform encourages people to invest in timeless, high-quality items that hold value, rather than constantly chasing trends and replacing what they own.
By shifting the behavior of shopping, The RealReal addresses the core issue: overconsumption. It’s not just about marketing sustainability, it’s about reshaping how people value clothing and ownership. Even their marketing strategy reflects that, partnering with smaller influencers who genuinely live this mindset instead of using sustainability as an aesthetic.
Now, thinking realistically, our world isn’t a utopia. Clothes wear out, trends evolve, and people will always need new things. The RealReal doesn’t single-handedly solve the problem; it just changes one part of it. What the industry really needs are innovative brands and thinkers finding ways to reduce carbon footprints, even when people do buy new.
Two companies making real progress here are Lululemon and On Running. Both have launched programs that let customers return worn products in exchange for new ones. It’s smart because it keeps loyal customers engaged while promoting circularity, a kind of “these don’t work anymore, I’m giving them back” mindset. Lululemon’s Like New program lets people trade in gently worn pieces for store credit. Those items are cleaned and resold, and if they can’t be resold, they’re recycled through partners. On Running’s Cyclon program takes it further by letting customers send back worn products so the materials can be reused in future designs.
This approach doesn’t just recycle; it redefines what “new” means. It shows that sustainability isn’t about halting consumption, but about consuming smarter, with brands and customers working together to make each product last longer than the one before.
Again, to be transparent, just like people will always want to shop for new clothes, clothes will wear out, trends will change, and yes, some items will end up in the trash. That doesn’t mean brands can’t rethink how they approach production. Reformation has made real strides in minimizing waste and reimagining what it means to make clothes responsibly. They use recycled and biodegradable fabrics and have committed to making 100 percent of their packaging recycled, reusable, or compostable by 2025. Packaging may seem small, but it is a huge part of the fashion footprint, and Reformation tackles it head-on. They are also working to close loops, recycling factory scraps, and designing with circularity in mind, showing that sustainability is more than a label.
Patagonia takes this approach even further. Their products are designed to be durable, repairable, and recyclable, and their Worn Wear program encourages customers to repair, trade, or resell old items instead of discarding them. They have been using recycled polyester and organic cotton for years, long before sustainability became a marketing strategy. What sets Patagonia apart is how deeply its values guide its decisions. Quality, integrity, and environmentalism are not slogans. They shape every product, every process, and every partnership. The brand is transparent about its supply chain, invests in environmental initiatives, and approaches every choice with the planet in mind. Patagonia shows that a fashion brand can thrive while taking real responsibility for its impact.
I actually think the work behind the scenes is more impactful than those in people’s faces: fashion is supposed to be fun, guilt-free, and seamless for the customer. Not everyone has the time, money, or energy to care about how “green” a brand is. Our job in the industry is to rethink the systems in place and change the behavior of the customer to create a greener tomorrow. Every decision we make, from production to marketing, can either reinforce old habits or guide people toward smarter, more sustainable choices.






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