Gregory+Beyer

In June 2015， Emily Hedlund gave herself a challenge： She would go an entire year without buying any clothes.

At first she thought shed try it out on her own. But because she was also in charge of clothes shopping for her husband and young son， she expanded the experiment to also include them. Hedlund calculated that she spent hundreds of dollars each year on thrift store finds and cheap fast-fashion impulse buys， stuff she and her family didnt feel any connection to and never actually wore.

Together， they had enough of a stockpile to keep themselves dressed for a year， Hedlund thought. There was just one potential hitch： She was pregnant—her second child was born two months after she started the challenge—and would need clothes in various sizes. Fortunately， she had a strong rotation of summer dresses， activewear， leggings and jeans， including items from the first time she was pregnant.

Hedlund shared her pledge on Facebook and her personal blog to keep herself accountable. And to eliminate temptations， she unsubscribed from emails from companies like Old Navy， Victorias Secret and American Eagle， which peppered her inbox with emails about sales.

It worked. With the exception of a single pair of running shoes， Hedlund succeeded in not buying any clothing for anyone in her family for one year. Along the way， the exercise in frugality1） brought her attention to something else entirely： the clothing industrys staggering wastefulness. This problem， Hedlund realized， was fueled in part by people like herself， who bought too many clothes they didnt need or even really want.

Worldwide， people buy more than 80 billion pieces of clothing each year. Compared to other household expenses， Americans are buying more clothing than ever before but spending less. These purchases power a fashion industry where pollution， waste and unsafe working conditions are too often seen as simply the cost of doing business—unsettling truths that Hedlund realized as her experiment progressed.

“Theres this whole dark side of the fashion industry that Id heard of but wasnt really aware of，” Hedlund told The Huffington Post. “It definitely wasnt at the forefront of my mind when I started the ban， but now it just makes me want to keep not buying clothing.”

Its not necessarily na?ve to think that one persons actions can impact a trillion-dollar global industry notorious for its lack of transparency. Consumers can pressure retailers into slowing the hyperproduction that leads to so much waste， said Christina Dean， founder of the fashion waste reduction organization Redress.

By controlling their consumption—that is， buying less stuff—consumers can “send a clearer signal to the big players that are producing billions of garments a year that they dont want to buy so much and they dont want to buy cheap stuff thats badly made，” Dean said.

Hedlund， who lives in St. Louis， began to think about her own place in a larger system when， in the midst of her yearlong experiment， she invited a group of friends to her home for a clothing swap. They arrived toting2） garbage bags full of unwanted items， many of which were from fast-fashion brands like H&M and Forever 21. When theyd finished picking over each others stuff， most of it remained unclaimed.

“There was so much left over，” Hedlund said. “I could not believe how much.” Afterward， the bulging3） trash bags sat in her dining room， waiting to be donated. “It just gives you an idea that theres so much overconsumption going on.”

Hedlund has assigned herself other challenges， including frugal grocery shopping and buying （almost） nothing at all for an entire month. Shes part of a community of bloggers responding to consumer culture with an ethos of minimalism， a lifestyle category containing everything from decluttering to tiny houses.

Even some businesses， counterintuitively4）， are encouraging people to buy less. Cladwell， a minimalist clothing app， helps customers curate a wardrobe of fewer， higher-quality items， with a stated goal of crusading against the fashion industrys wastefulness.

“As a society， weve consumed our way into this mess，” Cladwell founder Blake Smith told HuffPost. “So its my belief that we cant consume our way out of it.”

Self-congratulatory expressions of minimalist living have earned plenty of critics. To people who dont have enough in the first place， celebrations of “l(fā)ess is more” can sound more like a luxury than a sacrifice.

“Minimalism is a virtue only when its a choice， and its telling that its fan base is clustered in the well-off middle class，” Stephanie Land wrote in The New York Times in July 2016. “For people who are not so well off， the idea of opting to have even less is not really an option.”

Hedlund gets this. She was able to go a year without buying clothes for her two children because she was able to inherit hand-me-down coats， mittens， socks and shoes from a friend with four sons.

For those who take dramatic steps to curb their shopping habits， its about bringing sustained attention to a part of everyday life they once took for granted.

When Andrew Morgan began making The True Cost， a documentary about the human and environmental consequences of the fashion industry， he vowed not to buy any clothing until he finished the film—which ended up taking two years.

“I just wanted to reset. I wanted to step back and say， ‘I want to figure out what I believe in and where I want to buy stuff，” Morgan said. “And that was an awesome exercise.” He kicked his habit of buying cheap， poorly made items at fast-fashion companies and now shops almost exclusively at secondhand stores.

For Hedlund， changing habits took some time. At first， she missed the feeling of buying and having new things， and even the act of shopping itself. As summer turned to fall， she felt the urge to rush out and buy fleece-lined leggings， leather boots and other cold-weather comforts. She even kept a list of things she planned to buy once her yearlong embargo5） lifted.

But as time went on， the urge to shop began to fall away. In the three months since her challenges end， she has treated herself to two $3 dresses from her local Goodwill. She hasnt even looked at her list， and doesnt intend to.

“I didnt actually need those things，” Hedlund said. “I just thought I did.”

2015年6月，艾米麗·海德倫德對自己發(fā)起了挑戰(zhàn)：她將在一整年內(nèi)不買一件衣服。

起初，她打算僅是自己一個人嘗試這個計劃，但由于她負(fù)責(zé)為丈夫和兒子購置衣服，于是她把實驗范圍擴(kuò)展到全家人。海德倫德算了一筆賬，她每年在舊貨店購買的東西和在快時尚店沖動買下的廉價物品花去了她數(shù)百美元，而這些衣服她和家人都不大喜歡，甚至一次都沒穿過。

海德倫德覺得他們?nèi)覂涞囊路蚨嗔耍銐虼┮荒?。目前唯一可能的障礙是她懷孕了——她的第二個孩子會在她開始這項挑戰(zhàn)兩個月后出生，到時候?qū)枰鞣N尺寸的衣服。還好，她有一堆夏季衣服可以輪換著穿，有夏季連衣裙、運(yùn)動服、打底褲、牛仔褲，而且第一次懷孕時穿的一些衣服也能派上用場。

海德倫德在Facebook和個人博客上分享了自己的承諾，讓大家督促她日后言出必行。為了避免受到外界誘惑，她取消了許多品牌的郵件訂閱，如老海軍、維多利亞的秘密、美洲鷹。這些品牌的售賣信息塞滿了她的郵箱。

這一招果然奏效。在接下來的一整年里，除了一雙跑鞋之外，海德倫德沒有給家里的任何人買一件衣服。踐行節(jié)儉的同時也讓她把全部注意力投向另一個現(xiàn)象：服裝行業(yè)浪費(fèi)驚人。海德倫德意識到，像她這樣的人在這一問題中起了部分推波助瀾的作用：他們買了太多不需要或根本不想要的衣服。

在全球范圍內(nèi)，人們每年購買的衣服超過800億件。與其他家庭支出相比，美國人購買衣服的數(shù)量不斷增加，可花費(fèi)卻在下降。這些購買行為支撐著時裝業(yè)，而在時裝業(yè)內(nèi)，人們經(jīng)常單純地把污染、浪費(fèi)、不安全的工作環(huán)境看做是做生意的代價。隨著實驗的推進(jìn)，海德倫德逐漸意識到了這些令人不安的行業(yè)真相。

“我以前聽說過時尚產(chǎn)業(yè)的這些黑暗面，但從未真正意識到，”海德倫德接受《赫芬頓郵報》采訪時說道，“禁買實驗開始時，我首要考慮的不是這些，但現(xiàn)在這些黑暗面卻讓我想要堅持不買衣服?！?/p>

一個人的行為能影響一個產(chǎn)值萬億卻眾所周知缺乏透明度的全球產(chǎn)業(yè)，這種想法未必是天真的。致力于減少時裝浪費(fèi)的組織Redress的創(chuàng)始人克里斯蒂娜·迪恩說，消費(fèi)者能通過向零售商施加壓力來迫使其放慢過度生產(chǎn)的速度，正是這種過度生產(chǎn)導(dǎo)致了如此多浪費(fèi)。

通過控制消費(fèi)，也就是少買衣服，消費(fèi)者們能夠“對那些每年生產(chǎn)幾十億件服裝的大公司傳遞出更清楚的信息：他們不想買這么多衣服，也不想買價格便宜但做工粗糙的衣服”，迪恩說。

海德倫德住在圣路易斯，在她為期一年的實驗進(jìn)行到一半時，她開始思考自己在一個更大的體系中的作用。她邀請一些朋友到家里進(jìn)行舊衣交換活動。朋友們來的時候，每人手里都提著幾個垃圾袋，里面裝滿了他們不想要的衣服，很多都是像H&M和Forever 21這樣快時尚品牌的衣物。他們互相挑選完衣服后，還有大部分衣服無人問津。

“還剩這么多衣服，我無法相信竟然有這么多。”客人走后，海德倫德家的餐廳里堆滿了鼓鼓囊囊的垃圾袋，等著被捐獻(xiàn)出去?！翱吹竭@一幕，你才會意識到有這么嚴(yán)重的過度消費(fèi)?！?

海德倫德也試過其他挑戰(zhàn)，例如節(jié)儉地購買食品，或整整一個月（幾乎）不買任何東西。她還加入了一個宣揚(yáng)極簡主義精神以對抗消費(fèi)文化的博客社區(qū)。極簡主義是一種生活方式，內(nèi)容豐富，包括重視清理、住小房子等。

令人意外的是，不少商家也鼓勵人們少買。Cladwell是一款極簡派穿衣app，幫助顧客規(guī)劃衣櫥，讓衣櫥里的衣服更少，但質(zhì)量更好。該app明確宣布，其目標(biāo)就是要對抗時裝產(chǎn)業(yè)的浪費(fèi)。

Cladwell的創(chuàng)始人布萊克·史密斯說：“作為一個社會，我們的消費(fèi)習(xí)慣使自己步入這種困境，所以我相信：我們不能依靠消費(fèi)擺脫這種困境?！?/p>

對于極簡生活的洋洋自得的表述已招致許多人批評。對于生活用品本來就不充裕的人來說，推行“少即是多”聽起來更像是一種奢侈，而不是犧牲。

斯蒂芬妮·蘭德在2016年7月的《紐約時報》上寫道：“極簡主義只有是一種選擇時，才算得上美德。其擁躉主要集中在相對富裕的中產(chǎn)階級，這一點(diǎn)就很說明問題。對于那些本就不富裕的人群來說，少擁有一些根本就不是真正的選擇?！?/p>

海德倫德明白這一點(diǎn)，她之所以能夠堅持一年不給兩個孩子買衣服，全依賴一位朋友的援助，衣服、手套、襪子、鞋全都“傳承”自這位朋友的四個兒子。

對于那些采取果斷措施遏制購物習(xí)慣的人來說，他們需要持續(xù)關(guān)注的是他們曾習(xí)以為常的一些日常生活。

紀(jì)錄片《真正的代價》講述的是時裝業(yè)對人類和環(huán)境的影響。安德魯·摩根在制作該片之初就承諾，影片完成前不購買任何衣物——結(jié)果影片拍了兩年。

“我只是想重置生活。我只是想后退一步告訴自己：‘我想弄清楚自己相信什么，想在哪兒買東西。這真是一次很棒的經(jīng)歷?！蹦Ωf。他改掉之前的習(xí)慣，不再買快時尚公司的劣質(zhì)便宜貨，現(xiàn)在幾乎全部在二手店買東西。

對海德倫德來說，改變習(xí)慣需要一些時間。起初，她會懷念購買并擁有新東西的感覺，甚至?xí)涯钯徫镄袨楸旧?。夏去秋來，她也會按捺不住想沖進(jìn)店里去買羊毛打底褲、皮靴和其他御寒類衣物。她甚至列出一張掃貨清單，上面寫滿了長達(dá)一年的“禁令”解除那天要購買的東西。

但是隨著時間的流逝，那種想要購物的沖動開始消散。在結(jié)束挑戰(zhàn)后的三個月里，她從當(dāng)?shù)氐腉oodwill店里買了兩條價值三美元的裙子。至于清單，她連看都沒看過，也不打算看。

“我真的不需要那些衣服，以前我只是自以為需要。”海德倫德說。