Zero Waste, Zero Toxicity | From Clutter to Curation: My Ethical Closet Overhaul.
Hello Everyone,
I hope you’re well and thriving.
Let’s talk closets—not just the kind you organize by color or season, but the energy behind the pieces we wear. For me, this conversation isn’t about chasing trends or aesthetics—it’s about reclaiming health, identity, and intention in one of the most personal spaces of our lives: our wardrobe.
The Closet Cleanse: Why I Let It All Go
When I first entered university, I was stepping into more than just a new chapter—I was entering the first phase of my life without a uniform. Up until that point, I had never had the freedom to fully explore my personal style. So naturally, I did what many of us do: I bought what was accessible, affordable, and trending. And unfortunately, that led to a closet full of fast fashion—pieces that didn’t breathe, didn’t last, and honestly… didn’t reflect me.
Most of it ended up being synthetic, uncomfortable, and incompatible with the intentional lifestyle I was beginning to cultivate in every other area—my food, my products, even my spiritual practice. So I let it go. Not because I was trying to be trendy or minimalist, but because I was learning to choose myself and my health—in every detail.
Style in Bloom: Nurturing My Aesthetic
For a while, I felt insecure—not just about my closet, but about whether I could afford to look like myself. Like many university students feeling alienated at a private and PWI (predominantly white institution) facing financial strain, I used to think style had to come with a high price tag. But slowly, through Pinterest boards, vintage window shopping, and being honest about what felt good in my spirit, I found it.
Now, I can clearly name the textures, silhouettes, and energies that feel like me. And that’s a powerful thing—to get dressed not just for aesthetics, but for alignment.
My Closet Rules
As I rebuild, I’ve made some non-negotiables. Here’s what I now live by:
If it’s made of plastic (synthetics), it better cost under $20. Otherwise, I’m not touching it.
Because I’m no longer paying a premium for something that’s harming my skin, the planet, and the people who make it.
And when it comes to material choices, I only buy pieces that are 80%–100% natural fibers—because my clothes need to support me, not stress my skin or system.
Fabric Glossary: What I Actually Wear (and Why)
Before anything ends up in my cart—or closet—I ask: What is this made of? Not all “natural” fabrics are created equal, and many “sustainable” tags are just greenwashing. Below is my go-to glossary of acceptable materials and the standards they must meet to earn a space in my wardrobe (and eventually, my vintage archive).
Natural Fibers
Organic Cotton – Lightweight, breathable, and gentle on the skin. Grown without toxic pesticides, this is a staple for everyday wear—especially when labeled GOTS-certified.
Linen – Made from flax, this fabric is naturally antibacterial, moisture-wicking, and beautifully textured. Perfect for warm climates and timeless silhouettes.
Hemp – One of the most sustainable fabrics on earth. Strong, durable, and rich in character, I favor hemp for its longevity and quiet cool.
Silk – Luxurious and skin-soothing, but only when secondhand or sourced from verified ethical brands. I avoid traditional silk unless it's been repurposed or transparently produced.
Wool – Naturally insulating and ideal for layering. I buy it vintage or from brands that ensure humane, sustainable sourcing (think: cruelty-free and non-mulesed).
Semi-Synthetic (Only If Disclosed & Ethical)
TENCEL™ (Lyocell) – A soft, breathable fiber made from sustainably harvested eucalyptus pulp. Only accepted when certified by Lenzing and produced in a closed-loop process (which recycles solvents and water safely). If it's not Lenzing, I pass.
Bamboo (Closed-Loop Only) – Bamboo can be sustainable if it’s processed transparently. Most bamboo rayon and viscose are heavily chemical-laden. I only purchase from brands that clearly disclose a closed-loop method and avoid generic "rayon of bamboo" labels.
Fabrics I No Longer Buy (Even “Recycled”):
Even when they’re rebranded as “sustainable,” these just aren’t for me:
Polyester, Nylon, Spandex, Acrylic – Petroleum-based, irritating, and polluting.
Recycled Polyester – Still plastic. Still shedding microfibers. Still not breathable.
Rayon, Viscose, Modal – All processed with harsh solvents, which harm both workers and the planet.
The Energetics of Fabric
It’s not just about sustainability—it’s about energy. If something is made through exploitation, chemical-heavy processing, or mass production that cuts corners, that energy lingers. I want to feel clear, supported, and radiant in what I wear—not itchy, suffocated, or numb.
Every time I buy or wear something now, it’s an affirmation of what I believe: that wellness isn’t just skin-deep—it’s woven into every layer.
Final Thoughts: Closet, Rewritten.
This isn’t about minimalism. Or perfection. Or moral superiority. It’s about integrity.
My closet now reflects the kind of care I’m learning to give myself. The materials I wear touch my skin, affect my hormones, and shape my sense of self. They should honor my health—not harm it. They should make me feel grounded—not disposable.
And more than that, I’m thinking long-term. I want to build a wardrobe that lasts—not just season to season, but generation to generation. A vintage archive. A curated collection of pieces so intentional, so well-made, and so full of memory that I can one day pass them down to my children.
Because this archive isn’t just about sentiment—it’s about wealth. Economic wealth. Cultural wealth. Emotional wealth. Each garment represents an investment: in quality, in values, and in a future where my children inherit not just money, but meaning. I want them to inherit pieces that tell a story—about who I was, what I stood for, and how I honored myself, even when it was hard.
We often think of legacy in terms of assets or titles. But I also believe in a quieter legacy—woven into seams, stitched with self-respect, and designed to last.
This is how I reclaim my body, my confidence, and my economic future—one fiber at a time.
🪡 What's one item in your wardrobe that you hope to pass down someday? Let’s talk about it in the comments.
