Elizabeth L. Cline

This book was pretty fascinating to read, and it did make me think a lot about my buying choices. However, for a lot of the book I kind of felt like Cline was berating me, even though I hate shopping, only buy new clothes unless I have to, and have been sewing and making my own clothes for over 15 years. (I am almost exactly the same age as the author, and take issue with her insistence that our generation doesn't know anything about sewing.) Despite all this, the storebought things that ARE show more in my closet are often made in the "wrong" places and of questionable materials. Why? Because in most of the places I've lived, we don't have a lot of options for "slow fashion." Anyone notice that the two exemplary sustainable/ethical boutiques she profiles at the end of the book are in Brooklyn and LA? Yes, Americans need to cure ourselves of our fashion addictions (fast or otherwise). But I would argue that many of Cline's solutions are untenable not because people are unwilling to change their behavior but because in most parts of the country, we don't have any other choice.

One of Cline's proposed solutions is that more of us should learn to sew our own clothes. Well, I sew my own clothes. But unless you live in New York or LA, your fabric store options will be pretty much limited to JoAnns and Walmart. The fabrics you will be able to buy there are just as shoddy as the ones used in fast fashion. The fiber content will be mostly polyester. Even most of the shops in downtown LA's "fashion district" sell the same cheap crap. Just because you can put French seams in it yourself doesn't make it good quality.

And don't even get me started on the typos and incorrect diction. Still, interesting. I learned a lot I didn't know before. show less

Within an hour's drive of my home, there are several Salvation Army stores the size of suburban groceries -- tens of thousands of square feet of secondhand clothing. How is it that secondhand stores are growing from 4000 to 34000 square feet and are still overflowing? And how is it that one can pick up near-new, brand-name clothing for as little as a dollar -- and it still doesn't sell, instead being snapped up and resold in developing countries where, in truth, it still might not sell? Come show more to think of it, how is it that H&M can sell dresses for $5? Welcome to fast fashion, where styles change constantly (not once a season) and low-cost production means we're buying -- and shedding -- more than ever. Cline, herself an admitted clotheshorse, moves from her personal perspective to a global one, traveling from local thrift shop to overseas factories (she spends a day as a garment worker), transitioning from her own shoe collection to the overall impact of our incessant need to shop. You won't shop the same way again after reading this book. Highly recommended. Reviewed from publisher's digital galley via NetGalley.com. (179) show less

"Many books about fashion begin with an argument for why we should take fashion seriously. I'm going to take a different approach and say that fashion largely deserves its bad reputation. It's now a powerful, trillion-dollar global industry that has too much influence over our pocketbooks, self-image, and storage spaces. It behaves with embarrassing little regard for the environment or human rights. It changes the rules of what we're supposed to wear constantly, and we seem to have lost our show more sense of self along with changing trends."

Overdressed is an eye-opening look at the psychological, societal, and environmental detriments of fast fashion consumerism. According to the book, the average American woman purchases 64 pieces of clothing per year and owns 30 outfits (compared to just 9 in 1930). Sixty-four pieces! That is a mind-boggling statistic, especially when you consider how the average American also throws away 80 pounds of clothing every year. Fast fashion has conditioned consumers to treat clothing as cheap disposables that last only for a season or two before people are onto the next trend. Elizabeth L. Cline advocates ethical, slow fashion instead--in her words, "make, alter, and mend."

"Clothes could have more meaning and longevity if we think less about owning the latest or cheapest thing and develop more of a relationship with the things we wear. Building a wardrobe over time, saving up and investing in well-made pieces, obsessing over the perfect hem, luxuriating in fabrics, and patching and altering our clothes are old-fashioned habits. But they’re also deeply satisfying." show less

Probably my favorite book of the year (it's March). The research is broad, detailed and complex. Elizabeth Cline offers a number of explanations and ways of looking at the problem of fashion, from the price scrutiny of consumers, changing clothing culture, intellectual property, profit margins of business, and other elements of the global fashion industry. I was constantly engrossed in all of the different ways to think about this issue. She goes right to the sources of trade organizations, show more U.S., Chinese, Bangladeshi, and Dominican clothiers. She looks at different companies, statements of fashion designers and leaders, and the history of fashion and prices.

If you only want to know how to make your fashion more ethical, try the following suggestions in the book: (0) stop buying fast fashion: Zara/H&M/Old Navy/Forever21 (1) minimize the size of your wardrobe (2) choose high quality items (will experience a lot of wears, reparable, durable, looks good) (3) indicators (but not necessary or sufficient indicators) of fair trade include transparent sourcing, fair trade certifications, low production volumes, slow cycles, prices higher than fast fashion retailers (4) evaluate each garment individually instead of relying on a brands (offerings differ) (5) consider making your own clothes (6) see if you can find vintage clothes (7) repair clothes and shoes (8) only donate clothing that is in good condition and of good quality show less