Fast fashion is rampant in our current consumer climate, so it can be hard to maintain equitable clothing consumption practices. Between low-cost manufacturing, the constant availability of consumption through online shopping, and the never-ending turnover of streetwear trends, I’ve had moments where I feel trapped in a frenzy of low cost trend seeking. Everybody wants to look good! But once the hype cycle turns former favourites into wasted space in your closet, it can leave you wanting a total revamp of your wardrobe. This turnover is ultimately the goal of fast fashion, as it keeps us spending—but it also creates a lot of unnecessary clothing waste. To avoid this, I’ve tried to cultivate a personal style that can last beyond seasonal trends. Buying recycled clothing and spending a little more for materials that are made to last helps, too. In the long run this has been extremely rewarding. I’ve now created my own wardrobe, built from one-of-a-kind pieces that stay around long enough to gather their own story. Who knew keeping clothes out of landfills could feel so good?
—Noah Kelly
Like most students, I often consider myself to be severely lacking in self-motivation. I do, however, like to think that I care about the environment—hence why I once came very close to vegetarianism. The meat-centric diet of so many cultures is known to be detrimental to our efforts to conserve environmental stability, so I chose the route of only eating locally-sourced meats at every opportunity, and sticking to salad otherwise. My food purchases directly emphasized my wish to be environmentally friendly. Unfortunately, now that I’m living in residence with a meal plan, I worry that any attempts I make to change the mass production of meat-centred meals in Burwash will be highly individual and amount to very little. My motivation has failed me once again. It’s easy to say that we need to eat less meat to reduce emissions and improve our personal health. The problem is that, ultimately, changes need to be made on an institutional level, and I just don’t see the Big Mac being eliminated from the international diet any time soon.
—Sandy Forsyth
Starting at UofT, I faced a nasty combination of factors—no friends and way too much time on my hands. I turned to YouTube, thus introducing myself to the materialistic world of “clothing hauls” and “look-books.” I wondered, if I dressed like them would my life work out, too? So I shopped online. A lot. I made excuses for myself: “If other people are shopping, why can’t I?” I quickly discovered the answer to this: I was blowing through my savings and still had way too much time and no friends. My packages would arrive and the products looked much worse in person than they had online. I still wasn’t happy. As obvious as the moral of the story might be, it was a hard one for me to learn. Buying things as a way of coping and in hopes of connecting with others was not the solution I needed. This outlet was proving to be detrimental, and in the end, I met a lot more people by closing my computer and getting out of my room. What a surprise!
—Amelia Martinez-White
Self-care is a buzzword among students, and especially as exam season lurks around the corner, self-care practices should be called into question. Feeling terrible? Go buy a face mask or bath bomb. Stressed about all those assignments you put off until the last minute? Buy that sweater you’ve been eyeing online; you’re going through a lot and you deserve it. Self-care has shifted its focus from necessary actions of care to a “treat yourself” mentality. While I love a good impulse purchase when I’m feeling overwhelmed with sheer existence, centering self-care around consumerism limits who gets to partake in it and discredits its meaningfulness. Taking care of yourself is more than buying cute stationary and drinks; it’s getting enough sleep, answering messages that have been piling up, getting dirty dishes out of your room, or even some mindless doodling. It’s not about indulgence, it’s doing whatever is best for maintaining your well-being. While self-care is different for everyone, neither spending money nor being Instagram-worthy are requirements to participate in it.
—Abbie Moser
When I moved into residence in first year, I forgot to bring cleaning supplies. When I moved into my first apartment this year, I did not bring toilet paper, pots, sponges, steel wool, oven burner liners, dish soap, hand soap, olive oil, compost liners, spices, or dryer sheets. Going out and buying all those things that I had always taken for granted marked a huge step towards my economic independence. I spent my own money to make a house that was my own. I used to just <i>have</i> olive oil and sponges, but now I find myself buying olive oil and sponges, and I like them because they’re mine. Before I bought things that I wanted, like clothes or knick-knacks, to show who I am—now I buy things that I don’t want so much, like compost liners, that show who I have become.
—Miranda Carroll
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