How Big is the Fashion Industry’s Ecological Footprint, Really?

For many parts of the world, 2025 began in flames. An apocalyptic onslaught of fiery images—from the bushfires in Victoria and New South Wales, Australia, to the burning forests and wetlands in Argentina—filled our feeds. Hitting closest to home, Los Angeles was ablaze: fires not of unprecedented scope or scale for California but of unmatched destruction to the densely populated area, reinforcing two unfortunate truths about the climate crisis: its anthropogenic causes and how influential personal experiences can be when it comes to getting skeptics to GAF.

Amid encouraging images of the people of L.A. County’s community-organization efforts, another harsh reality was revealed as donation centres became overrun with clothing drop-offs: The supply of second-hand clothing vastly exceeds the actual need or demand for it. And in a state of emergency, off-loading our closets’ excess is more of a hindrance than a help.

Across the Atlantic, a fire thought to be caused by faulty wiring ravaged Ghana’s capital city of Accra, evidencing what waste warrior and The Story of Stuff Project’s Annie Leonard meant by “there is no ‘away.’” Accra’s Kantamanto Market was the world’s “away.” As one of the largest trading hubs for used clothing, Kantamanto supported the livelihoods of over 30,000 traders, labourers and vendors and received 15 million second-hand garments each week. While Kantamanto’s workforce managed to recirculate, repair and repurpose many of these items, roughly 40 per cent ended up as waste, piling high into the sky above designated and informal dumping sites, straining the city’s waste-processing infrastructure, polluting once-beautiful beaches in the Gulf of Guinea and gradually being ground down by the rocks and waves, exacerbating the fashion-fuelled marine-microplastics crisis and clogging Accra’s sewer system, which increased the risk of diseases like malaria and cholera.

The connection between our overconsumption of clothing in the West and the Kantamanto Market fire is causally linked in a visible, tangible way. But the truth is that the fashion industry plays a significant, more insidious role in heating up this planet of ours and inciting certain extreme-weather events like wildfires, which are decimating the world’s built and natural environments at an increasing rate and scale.

The fashion industry is a major emitter of greenhouse gases due to the use of fossil fuels at every stage of the traditional supply chain, from production to distribution to disposal. While perhaps hard to visualize, the clothes on our backs and the gasoline in our cars derive from the same raw-material sources: oil and gas. And Canada has a major stake in the game as the world’s fourth largest producer of oil and the fifth-largest producer of natural gas.

A recent investigation by Stand.earth connected over 100 fast-fashion brands to fabrics made of fracked oil and gas from the Permian Basin, which straddles the Texas-New Mexico border. By comparison, Alberta’s oil sands could hold as much as triple the reserves, which prompts the question “How much Canadian oil and gas ultimately turns into clothing?” Fossil-fuel-derived synthetics now account for 69 per cent of all fibre production and have become the backbone of fast fashion. Many textiles (synthetic and natural) use unnatural dyes and can require warning labels and treatment with flame retardants. A growing body of research suggests that we absorb, inhale and ingest the fibres we wear.

Fashion’s exorbitant use of primary plastic polymers is evidenced in the verbiage of the working draft of the Global Plastics Treaty, an international and legally binding instrument that calls out textiles as a priority sector to receive a dedicated program of work. Making matters worse, Fashion Revolution’s What Fuels Fashion? report reveals that 89 per cent of brands surveyed fail to disclose how much clothing they actually produce and nearly 25 per cent fail to disclose any decarbonization plans or targets. And, of course, when plastic fashion burns—in the open-air markets of the global south, in Californian closets or as a result of the deliberate incineration of unsold goods, which remains a common practice—our collective health and air quality are further compromised.

So what can we as fashion lovers do in this highly flammable state of affairs? I’m here to assure you that a love of clothing can absolutely coexist with climate activism. A love of clothing, and a desire to participate in more circular and sustainable fashion systems, is the right kind of fuel for our inner fire. Getting informed is the first step.

Concerned? Here’s what to learn, read and shop to feel the hope.

Plastic People

This homegrown doc connects the dots between plastic pollution and human health, revealing that the problem is indeed personal.

Wear Nature. Not Plastic.

Reinforcing the importance of collaboration over competition in developing sustainable fashion systems, New Zealand brand Kowtow outlines the steps it took to become a plastic-free brand, encouraging others to follow suit.

Stretch Denim Without Plastics

It’s possible with Canadian-founded denim brand Triarchy, which offers biodegradable stretch denim that uses natural rubber.

Beyond Plastic Fashion

Formerly #NoMorePolyester, Fashion Revolution Canada’s new initiative aims to inform consumer citizens about the impacts of an increasingly plastic industry.

Student Upcycling Challenge

High school and post-secondary students across Canada are encouraged to submit upcycled designs to Fashion Revolution Canada’s Student Upcycling Challenge.

Think Globally, Act Locally

Fashion Revolution Global’s 2025 campaign acknowledges that each region of the world is affected differently by the global fashion system and aims to empower citizens to connect with local policymakers to take collective action.

This article first appeared in FASHION’s April 2025 issue. Find out more here.