Yes, I'm Grieving Everlane

Even if you are a secondhand puritan (oh, how puritanical we all are when asked about our fashion habits) you will be affected by Shein buying Everlane.

Tell me, where am I supposed to get a simple, affordable, 100% natural scarf now?

What sweet, sweet irony. On the very day I send out a newsletter headlined by a picture of me wearing Everlane French linen pants, it was announced that Everlane was being bought. By Shein. SHEIN! I was caught with my pants down—or, my pants were on…but the wrong pants? I don’t know!

It looks like I have some explaining to do. Even my office mate at the wildlife research nonprofit where I work wanted to know what I think. A fellow millennial who lives on a farm (so, definitely a target customer of their somewhat affordable sustainability) she asked me, “Was Everlane even good to begin with?”

“WELL,” I declared, swinging my chair around for perhaps a longer and more forceful answer than she had bargained for.

Before I do the same to you, I must admit there have been many, many hot takes on this. Here’s one at Fast Company, which always believes that for-profit business can be a force for good. Here’s one from Maxine Bédat, a woman I deeply admire and like, and one of the people behind the Fashion Transparency Act (languishing in New York and California) who continues to beat the drum for government regulation.

They perhaps have slightly different flavors, but all these essays have come to the same conclusion: the dream of the 90s is alive in Portla—sorry, wait, wrong plot. Here it is: The dream of the 2010s—the one where a fashion brand, if helmed by the right charismatic and caring founders, could raise a ton of money, change the fashion industry for the better, and turn a profit while offering affordable and accessible basics to conscious consumers—is dead, embalmed in formaldehyde, encased in a casket, and festooned with plastic flowers. Venture capital, in which investors pour money into a company and hope it grows and takes over the market like Uber or Amazon, doesn’t work for fashion.

But that dream is not what I’m grieving. Like a woman who has just served her complacent husband papers, I did my fighting, my grieving, and my letting go several years ago. I’ve already known for some time that:

• There is no perfectly sustainable and ethical fashion brand.

• And yet, the chattering online class continues to attack any brand that tries to do better as not good enough, from H&M and Target, down to a one-woman show in Tennessee.

• Meanwhile, super greenwashy brands are doing awesome. I cannot skip over Quince ads in my podcast feed fast enough.

• Brands that are doing better are going to be expensive. Not Gucci-expensive, but definitely spend-y. And consumers increasingly can’t afford that.

• And yet, shoppers who do have money to spend show time and again that they would rather pay high prices for a nylon clutch festooned with an Italian logo than a artisan-made, natural-fiber object with a backstory.

This is why I pivoted in 2020 to talking about toxic chemicals in fashion and wrote a whole book about it. Because shouting, judging, and shaming Western shoppers about garment workers, cotton farmers, and an invisible gas going into the atmosphere wasn’t working. If I could show that we are all connected, that an exploited garment worker in India means a toxic product here that impacts our health, perhaps I could actually move the needle.

Since then, I’ve taken a position of non-judgment and support. I share strategies for how you can buy the best you can with the budget you have. I allow wiggle room for different people’s different health journeys. I push back when commenters try to shame people for buying from mass-market brands. I investigate and expose the brands that are bold-face lying to you about their sustainability. I invite, instead of demand. I take a step back and try to see what in the system propels people—shoppers, founders, CEOs, designers, parents, teens, rich folks, poor folks—to make the choices that they do.

I hammer home that a teenager who buys Shein will exacerbate their body acne, that a woman paying $20,000 for IVF can increase her odds by switching to natural underwear, that a man who works out in synthetic gym clothes and outdoor gear will mess with his hormones. In other words, I try to show people how sustainable fashion is not charity, it’s self interest. It benefits everyone.

But things that benefit everyone are increasingly hard to come by today.

I Had Hopes for Everlane

I liked Everlane! Yes, Maxine is right—it was clear in the first few years that their “radical transparency” was more about pricing and marketing than sustainability. But then, when critiqued, the brand rose to the occasion. It started releasing cleaner denim and recycled polyester clothing (back when we thought it was a solution).

In 2024, an EcoCult contributor revisited the question of whether Everlane was greenwashing, and after looking at all the brand was doing, she decided, hey, it’s a good enough brand. It has a Cleaner Chemistry collection, creates classic pieces that you can hopefully wear for a decade, reduced its greenhouse gas emissions, supported political pushes to make the industry more sustainable, disclosed its Tier 1 and Tier 2 factories, and went on a quest to reduce its plastic usage.

It’s just… I don’t think shoppers ever really noticed. Once it was tainted by the union busting scandal during the pandemic (and it’s still unclear exactly what happened there) everyone decided it was an unethical brand and lost interest. And apparently started shopping at Quince, a natural-fiber brand that is the most greenwash-y brand on the planet! Make it make sense!

I kind of agree with all of the hot takes I’ve seen. Yes, we need more regulation, desperately. Yes, business could be a force for good, if the structures and incentives were changed. But really, what I’m mourning is not the loss of a millennial dream. It’s the loss of the good life I thought we might build and have, together.

What I’m Really Mourning With the Sale of Everlane

What all these hot takes ignore is the real tragedy of today’s fashion industry: there are fewer and fewer places to get good-quality, affordable, natural-fiber basics that you can wear to work and family outings. That market has shrunk along with the middle class.

Sure, there are plenty of small ethical brands that offer organic, traceable cotton basics, such sweats, and t-shirts for between $35 and $90. But if you want anything other than a cotton basic, the three categories are:

1. Ultra-cheap and throwaway: Shein, Quince, and Amazon.

2. Mall brands and department stores that are now too expensive for their disappointing quality.

3. Expensive brands that charge $275 and up for a cardigan.

I’m serious! If you want a nice cardigan made 100% of natural fiber for less than $150, go check out what Everlane has right now (before Shein does whatever it’s going to do to the brand). There is literally a 100% cashmere cardigan—made of a blend of recycled and certified cashmere with safer chemistry—on sale for $139.

There are always commenters that will say, “Oh, I just buy vintage.” Yes, secondhand shopping is awesome. I myself love it for unique quality finds like fuzzy sweaters and fun dresses, and things that actually get better when battered, like Carhartt jackets, vintage tees, and overalls.

But also…do these people never need a crisp white t-shirt? Have they never realized that they are missing one specific thing in a natural fiber that drapes beautifully over their body in a color that suits them that will give them the confidence to walk into a new job, a party, or a trip to the beach?

Furthermore, the new market feeds the secondhand market. The fewer brands we have that make good stuff, the less good stuff you’ll find at the secondhand shop. That’s why everyone is so pissed at the prices they find at Goodwill for polyester fast fashion. Because in order for you to find a beautiful used piece, that beautiful piece needs to be made and sold to someone in the first place, who then donates or sells it.

So even if you are a secondhand puritan (oh, how puritanical we all are when asked about our fashion habits) you will be affected by the degradation of quality basics brands.

So that is what I’m sad about. It’s just another sign of the times. It’s part of the same trend that means middle-class families spend all their money on for-profit sports teams for their kids. Luxury fashion brands that use synthetics are shrugging off the oil crisis and rise in polyester prices because their margins are so padded.

Regular folks don’t have money to spend on quality basics, so those quality basics are disappearing. And the people that do have money? They don’t seem to care.

Help a sister out: What are the brands that you currently go to for good-quality basics? They don’t have to be perfect! They just have to be natural, reliable, and relatively affordable. Let us know in the comments.