Material Memories

Personalisation got political as Itaylan Avlusu encouraged participants to hack the fashion system. Old garments brought along by participants were reassembled, deconstructed, embellished, fitted or repaired on-site. Curiously, the workshop revealed that a great amount of courage was necessary for participants to make customisations to their clothing. Most participants began with modest changes, only daring to make bold and creative reinterpretations in the final few weeks as the project’s operation gained momentum.⁶ This highlights just how effective the fashion system is at maintaining exclusive authority over the production of clothes and dreams. In a society of de-skilled wearers, these acts of customisation inspire consumers to ‘do’, lowering the threshold between producer and consumer. Italyan Avlusu celebrated action, rather than passive consumption. Modifying existing garments is not a move against, but within existing fashion frameworks to repurpose them and disempower the mass-production of homogenised wearer experiences.⁷ Fashion hacking demystifies and democratises garment-making techniques so consumers can build their own personal narratives. Indeed, customising clothes dispels fashion’s promise that it offers consumers something they cannot do themselves.

Italyan Avlusu culminated in a pop-up store where the work-shopped garments could be swapped or traded for an item the customer was wearing that day. Customers also completed the reflective survey for their garments, entering the store equipped with a story to tell.¹⁰ Transformed into narratives, these garments trigger awareness of one’s emotional connection to clothes otherwise overshadowed by fashion’s rejection of the immediate past on its ceaseless quest for all things new. Importantly, Italyan Avlusu did not oppose consuming fashion, but instead demonstrated an open dialogue between clothing and wearer, where consumption is an exercise in reflection, self-empowerment and shared experience. Rather than aestheticising sustainable action which keeps consumers disengaged, the project promoted an interactive, meaningful use-phase – a beginning rather than an end for clothing.

To understand the project further, I decided to have a go at this reflective exercise. Taking an old grey sweater – once a favourite that had since been adorned with paint spots, I still liked its shape and fit but I had ceased to wear it. Tracing the memory of these marks, I stitched over the stains in contrast colour, raised up like scars. During the process, I was confronted by the realisation that fashion prescribes newness an almost sacrosanct status, frowning upon the worn or hand-made aesthetic. Rethinking these standards of taste could widen the spectrum of beauty accepted by fashion to destabilise the stigma of visible hand-work in fashion. While sentimental reflection could encourage a bad case of hoarding, this practice can instead inspire more meaningful – and sustainable – post-consumer behaviour. Well-loved garments might be passed onto friends, donated to textile workshops, re-made into other objects, or even become bedding at animal rescue centres. Ultimately, these alternatives bypass the apparent waste generated by the fashion industry.

Italyan Avlusu demonstrated the possibilities for sustainable fashion, free from the stereotypes and commodification normally assigned to eco-friendly style. By reinforcing the relationship between emotional and material durability, consumers can lead sustainable fashion action from the stories worn into their wardrobes.