In “Picking up the threads”, a new weekly column by Hanli Fourie from Luminous Ware fame, we place a rare spotlight on the many products made from natural fibres in South Africa.
My mom unwittingly taught us the principles of sustainable living. One of these concepts is revealed in some of my favourite childhood memories: slow fashion.
Pearls, an evening clutch, a crocheted shawl and ultra-glamorous, high heel shoes that were way too big. These were a few of the catwalk essentials from mom’s cupboard when my sister and I were in primary school. We’d stride down the corridor from our parents’ bedroom all the way to the living room to model for our two audience members.
Then we’d strike a pose for dad’s camera while lounging on a sofa and we’d feel utterly grown-up and captivating.
I remember being particularly fond of mom’s knitwear for its lush, draping qualities. Her black knit dress simply needed a belt to fit my young body. And then there was the ruby red cloche hat with its distinct 1920s elegance. I wonder if it was the depth of colour, the pretty bow or the flattering shape that made this hat so unforgettable.
Or was it the inviting texture of the felted wool under my finger tips that awoke my senses and etched that hat into my childhood memories?
My mother’s wardrobe choices have always been timeless and chic. In a pinch, my sister and I can both still find something lovely to wear in our now-81-year-old mother’s wardrobe. And this has troubled me for years: why don’t I have garments from my youth that are still loved and irreplaceable today?
How is it possible that my mother’s clothes have outlasted mine?
Clothes of origin
I’ve been pondering the fact that my parents and grandparents – in fact, all of humanity since time immemorial – wrapped themselves in natural fibres. Fibres such as wool and cotton were painstakingly transformed into beautiful, durable garments by skilled hands. These were often the same hands which had reared the sheep and planted the cotton seeds.
And since people were more connected to the origin of their garments, or at least more appreciative of it, they made a great effort to care for it properly. They would safeguard special pieces for future generations.
An embroidered garment or a hand-knitted blanket would be considered a family heirloom. It would have meaning.
I recently came across a thought-provoking quote by Whitney Bauck, an independent journalist who prides herself on taking unique angles on the issue of climate change: “What if we treated every clothing purchase like a tattoo purchase – with the understanding that it’s essentially a permanent decision, since a thrown-away T-shirt is not really going away?”
This challenged me on my long term vision for my clothing, my homeware and even my accessories.
Conscious buying
Buying for “forever” is indeed a lofty and praiseworthy ideal, but it begs the question: where do I even start? I reckon it warrants a closer look at mom’s wardrobe choices. If you dig a little, you’ll find classic cut wool trousers from the 70s – still in impeccable condition. Black velvet garments that look and feel as luxurious today as they did 40 years ago. Dainty suede gloves fit for a lady.
My mom was on a shoestring budget for many years and yet she managed to build up a wardrobe that would be the envy of many fashionistas today.
So, what is her secret? Choosing quality over quantity.
What this means in real terms is that my mom lives a frugal life, but she always buys the best that she can afford and she has a strong preference for natural fibres. This requires some consideration before making a purchase. It calls for a slowing down.
Fashion speed bump ahead, slow down
It comes as a relief, but as no surprise, that “fast fashion” is finally showing its true, frenzied colours. And as the pandemic brought our lives to a grinding halt, we actually had time to reflect on our own legacy. Buzzwords like “slow fashion”, ‘hand-crafted” and “sustainable living” are not only trending, but have transitioned into a global movement.
This makes me cautiously optimistic about the growing number of consumers who abhor the sight of landfills brimming with discarded clothes. Consumers who might be willing to save up and gradually replace their mass-produced garments with items that carry a weighty heritage, but leave a light footprint.
What if we could nurture a generation who would be willing to sacrifice immediate gratification for the sake of significance. Who will get nostalgic about an heirloom piece handed down by a parent? A generation who might one day enjoy going through mom’s shoe cupboard in the hopes of finding a pair of her old high heels.
Just to see if they finally fit.
- Hanli Fourie loves natural products almost as much as she loves Africa and its people. She dreams of seeing this continent flourish. Join her journey on Instagram at or on Facebook.
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