“We all know how fast food operates: processed ingredients from unknown origins, grown with chemicals by low-paid workers, become not-so-nutritive nourishment.

Fashion works a little differently, of course, but there are parallels. Fast fashion involves a sort of democratization of style. Runway looks are reproduced as quickly as possible for consumers with Target, Old Navy, and H&M budgets. Designers like Marc Jacobs franchise second and third lines, allowing the masses an opportunity to buy a bit of mystique. The garments don’t have to last, since the styles are ephemeral. This translates to resource-intensive, disposable clothing. As with food, there’s little emphasis on who made a garment and how, or the social and environmental effects.”

I recently stumbled on this article from TreeHugger on Slow Food and Slow Fashion. It’s a topic I’ve given a lot of thought to lately, as reducing my consumption and thinking more critically about my purchasing is one of the major reasons I’m doing the whole Wardrobe Refashion thing.

The Slow Food movement began in Italy as a protest against fast food and all that it stands for. I’ve long been interested in food politics and practices, and I do a lot of thinking about what goes into my body, where it came from, and how it affects the lives of others. I’ve been a vegetarian for many many years, I buy locally when I can, I’m constantly seeking out information on food from a variety of viewpoints. I’m far from perfect in these choices, but I do use my power as a consumer to take an active, critical role.

But for some reason, clothing has taken a much slower course for me. I love fashion, just as I love food, so why have I continued to waste so much on essentially disposable clothing from places like H&M or Forever 21? I may not be the worst offender (by far), but I certainly shop at these places. It’s hard to resist the allure of cheap, cute, fashionable stuff.

But I’ve noticed something. I’ll illustrate.

There happens to be a gigantic Forever 21 located right outside one of the downtown subway stations in San Francisco. Let’s say I happen to pop in there one day, lured again by those cheap, cute clothes. I notice a cute little cotton summer dress in a fashionable cut, maybe it’s even similar to one I’d been admiring in a magazine. The dress costs $20, fits well, and I know I’ll wear it often, so it seems like a great deal. I buy it.

I enjoy wearing it the first couple of times I put it on. But soon, the magic of the new dress evaporates. Even if it hasn’t started fading, pilling, or otherwise falling apart at this point (which is unlikely, frankly), it no longer feels interesting or special to me. It’s still a cute dress, but it’s one of a million cute dresses. I still wear it, but I don’t feel much when I put it on. The next time I clean out my bulging closet, I think, “Do I love this dress?” The answer is usually no, so it goes on the pile for the thrift store. Apparently, this happens to a lot of people. According to this excellent, must-read article, “Waste Couture: Environmental Impact of the Clothing Industry,” Americans throw away 68 pounds of clothing and textiles per person per year!

The thing is, I know with certainty that if I had made this very same dress myself, there’s no way I would have tossed it aside. Not only would it have been made well, I would have continued to see the value in it. I would have remembered why I made it, what I loved about it, why I chose that particular cut, color, and fabric. Even if the dress looked exactly the same, it would have meant something to me.

So I think it’s interesting in reading the TreeHugger article or this article on “Slow Fashion” in the Wall Street Journal that so much of what I’ve read on the “Slow Fashion” concept seems to be about about designers and manufacturers developing businesses based on the concept. I feel like it could be so much more than a selling gimmick for individual companies, and more about individuals taking a fully conscious approach to fashion and consumption. It could be about making certain personal choices. Here are a few things that I’d like to be more focused on:

• Buying less clothing from mass market retailers
• Buying less clothing in general
• Getting to know the designers you buy from
• Supporting local designers and stores
• Researching where the clothes you buy come from and how their made
• Buying only things you really, truly love
• Understanding what looks good on you and valuing that over what’s fashionable right now
• Recognizing what makes a high-quality garment
• Buying secondhand and vintage (not only are vintage pieces recycled, I never get tired of them)
• Buying stuff that’s crafted well and will last
• Taking care to prolong the life of your clothing
• Making stuff yourself

When you think about it like this, giving up cheap H&M stuff doesn’t seem like such a sacrifice. Just like giving up fast food leads you to tastier food and healthier outlook, giving up on sweatshop-produced fast clothing would undoubtedly leave you better dressed and more personally invested in your wardrobe.