Im/material Desires

Inspecting Cognitive Dissonance in Fast Fashion Overconsumption



I have nothing to wear to dinner at my friend’s house. She’s the one who makes sure we actually meet up (no joke with our gross adult calendars). She’s hosting a bunch of us this weekend in her beautiful home, her sweet partner’s cooking. 

I want to look like I care enough to dress up; I want to be comfortable enough to eat, help in the kitchen, talk for hours, sit and wiggle. There’s 30 dresses in my closet, but I’ve grown bigger and smaller and bigger and smaller, some cling wrong, I’m not sure they’re comfortable, some have itchy fabric, some are comfortable but emphasize the wrong parts of me… drawers and drawers of clothes and I have nothing to wear. 

I’m on my phone, looking for a black slip dress. I have a black slip dress (worn twice) in front of me, but the cowl neck doesn’t fall gracefully anymore and it’s sticking to my stomach all wrong. I’m not consciously thinking about why that is, but I know the answer is Zara’s cheap polyester. So I’m on my phone looking for a black slip dress: there’s theeee Skims dress (£78) but there’s dupes on Amazon, Shein and Cider for under £20. What if the dupe looks better than the original (they have next day shipping, Skims don’t!), what if this black slip dress is the one I can wear around the house and out the house, and if I’m out, if someone asks me about my dress, I’ll cut the label out so I can say I don’t know where its from, it’s been in my closet forever…I’m ready to check out, but a sweater falls off my hanger snapping me back to reality, and I’m furious with myself.

I’m embarrassed but I do this several times a week.

I’m not alone (Shein’s profits make that evident). My friends and I follow sustainability influencers, we use dress rental apps, we’ve heard of horrible things happening to garment workers (‘help me’ tags, factory collapses, injuries). Every one of us has bought something from Inditex, H&M (Monki, COS, Weekday, & Other Stories, ARKET), Shein, Cider or a similar brand. Why?

One of my most empathetic girlfriends said “existing in this world as it is right now requires a huge amount of cognitive dissonance”. Exploring this dissonance is crucial in tracing how I/we got here, and figuring out what to do instead.



Commodification of Anti-Capitalism


Our relationship with fast fashion is dissonant; “Stanley cup, paper straws, anyways look at my new sustainable Veja trainers I got last week”. Global inequalities set the scene for garment worker exploitation, but making it profitable to dunk on capitalism sustains our cognitive dissonance.

Take the Barbie movie – right after watching it, my friend remarked we’re at a point where capitalism can hold itself to critique inside capitalism, interestingly without entirely diminishing the criticism.

Barbie was praised for Gerwig’s women-centric lens and slammed in the WSJ for having a script that read like a “grumpier-than-average women’s seminar” (my eyes have rolled into the back of my head, how groundbreakingly original, Kyle Smith…). Barbie’s in capitalism’s Greatest Hits, but watching the movie undeniably gave women and queer people some collective joy and relief. There were obvious feminist themes in there. Barbie dunked on Mattel, the patriarchy, – it wasn’t just surface, they even called out the harmful ‘long-term, long-distance, low commitment casual girlfriend’ trend that’s been infiltrating modern dating. 

These were valid, necessary critiques, but y’know, it’s Mattel paying Greta Gerwig to dunk on Mattel, it’s Gerwig casting Margot Robbie as Stereotypical Barbie to dunk on how stereotypical Barbie is. I’m passionate about not letting capitalism stop you from enjoying Barbie (or fashion), but my point is that anti-capitalism is the selling point.



Selling Sustainability 



Firstly, sustainability sells. Sustainability was supposed to be about buying less, in a way that meant human life could be around on the planet longer while being kinder to plants and animals. It’s now good marketing.

YouTube is full of “sustainable clothing hauls” raking in millions of views, encouraging people to buy from sustainable brands. Shein has a line called ‘EvoluShein’ using recycled polyester (they even publish sustainability reports). Last year, Boohoo made headlines for greenwashing by appointing Kourtney Kardashian sustainability advisor while wrongfully labeling items as sustainable (they f*cked up according to their own guidelines, which weren’t great in the first place). 

The uncomfortable truth is it’s impossible to conduct ethical, sustainable business in the fast fashion model. It was impossible when the fast fashion was slower than Shein! 

No matter how economies-of-scale things get, £5 for a dress doesn’t cover fabric, labor, design and profit. We bypass this reality in cognitive dissonance, and are soothed by greenwashed sustainability reports. It’s easier to alleviate my guilt if my socks from H&M say “30% recycled material” on them. I don’t think too hard about why the guilt is there.


Living Subcultures to Consuming Aesthetics



Being emo in the 2000s took significant effort: I listened to My Chemical Romance for weeks, colored roses black with Sharpies, pulled my side parting from one ear to the other. When I switched into Theatre Kid, it took DIYing patches onto jackets and jeans, practicing singing exercises, watching SEVERAL SEASONS of Glee. These subcultures were (more) about what I did, less what I bought. 

The Tiktokification of social media distilled cultural movements into a cocktail of external validation and buying things. Yeah you can be Grunge! Just buy some fishnet tights, a plaid skirt, KVD eyeliner, lace gloves. Yeah you can be Clean Girl! Just buy some makeup that’s also skincare, a white shirt, some ecru linen pants. 

It’s about cosplaying as somethingcore with things, not living somethingcore.

Feeling Scared… and K-Pop?


The hedonic treadmill is set to maximum speed, we’re buying things all the time to fit into fleeting trends we don’t actually understand (often there isn’t much to understand), we’re never engaging with anything deeply enough to figure out if we actually enjoy it. 

Then Clean Girl Aesthetic is determined cheugy and I’m stuck with a stupid vanilla lip mask I fucking hate, and some white shirts I’m going to clog the Chilean landscape with. 


The Atacama desert featuring last month’s sustainable clothing haul…


A Treat A Day Keeps Sadness Away



I won’t pretend you don’t know what I mean when I say dopamine shopping. Instagram infographics have reduced self care to ‘treat’ purchases (bath bomb! coffee! manicure! dress!). However, real self care is behaving like you love yourself, even if you don’t love yourself that day: it can mean cooking, cleaning, working out or being in the sun. 



Add to this when we’re shopping online, both the physical objects and our ‘selves’ become detached from the transaction

So, we’re numbing ourselves by consuming more and more to distract from depression, horrible jobs, crappy apartments. And we’re unattached to the very objects we’re buying under the guise of ‘self-care’.

Resolving Dissonance


We know we’re in perpetual cognitive dissonance enabling wasteful, harmful shopping. I analyse this using phrases like ‘commodification of anti-capitalism’ not to dispose of individual responsibility, but to honor real, frequent pressures making it harder to wake up to reality. 

Here’s how I’m trying to ‘wake up’.

Radical Empathy & Honesty 


When I want that slip dress, I try to be honest with myself about why. Examine if the root is boredom, anxiety, body insecurity, or societal pressure. I hold my feelings with grace because I know we live in a world where we’re pressured to do and feel quite a lot we don’t want to, quite often. 

This grace feels like a better alternative to the shame a lot of sustainability influencers are peddling. I don’t want to feel bad about what I’ve already bought (but I do want to wear it loads and make it last). I want to feel good about what I’m doing now and in future.

So, being radically honest: I know affordability is a reason for buying fast fashion. It’s wildly expensive in the UK right now. I share Rian Phin’s views here: it’s a human right to be clothed but it’s not human right to look good. I can’t hold my preference for wearing on-trend clothing above someone’s right to work safely. 

It’s harder to make high quality purchases if the upfront cost is prohibitive (and so, I/we may have to wait longer to save to buy better).  The thrift store isn’t a panacea: it’s often impossible to find what I want, especially outside straight sizing. But like, that’s okay. Being inconvenienced is better than being insensitive to obvious exploitation.

I can honor that fast fashion serves my very real needs in sizing, cost, avoiding body shame, limiting social anxiety. I don’t think those needs outweigh someone’s right to working safely.


Le Pause & Accountability
Take a leaf out of French parenting to implement ‘le pause’ before buying things. Sometimes I will create an entire Sephora basket, leave it there overnight and forget about it the next day. If something’s ‘running out fast’ or on sale, I’ll reduce that to a few hours. 

I also mention when I want something to my husband, sister or friends, because it’s a good passive accountability tactic where one other person is now involved (or at least aware) of the purchase. My friends will realize if I’m constantly talking about buying things, and call me in gently.


Bad to Better
Shein’s hyperspeed makes them worse than Marks & Spencer. Uniqlo feels more ethical than Primark. Ultimately the most sustainable clothing haul is sourced from your closet (or a friend’s, or your mama’s). But – better is better.


Get Physical
The girliepops in the group chat agreed shopping in person can make it easier to buy only what you need by adding intentionality to the process. 

I really, really dislike shopping in person, which makes it easier to buy less.


Get Back in The Closet

Cultivating personal style is the antidote to being hijacked by ‘trends’. Overanalyse what you enjoy, when something ‘speaks’ to you, figure out why. 

This could be us (credit: @afffirmations)


When I wear an outfit I think looked good, I try to see why. Was it the neckline, the hem, the drape of the fabric, the color, the layers, or accessories? Was there a powerhouse item holding everything together, or was it the way I combined pieces? 

Get back in the closet: try things on when you’re not going out, reorganize by color, fabric, season. This makes it easier to look there instead of shop when you’re going someplace.

Looking within stops our external presentation being governed by what’s being peddled on TikTok. It’s a good feeling when something ‘clicks’ and you can intentionally curate a flattering outfit.

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I’m a material girl, in a material world, but my desires are immaterial.