Contrary to appearances
You wouldn’t know it to look at them, but our standard wardrobe picks leave a carbon-emissions wake larger than the aviation and shipping industries combined. Churning out the latest jeans or moisture-wicking shirts en masse takes a whole lot of water, chemicals, and underpaid labour—realities that go unseen by most of us in North America.
Harder to ignore, since no body or waterway can escape it, is the problem of microplastics pollution caused in large part by polyester’s growing ubiquity in clothing (see sidebar). All this in the name of low-cost garments we’re free to consume and dispose of with abandon.
This is, unfortunately, what we’re doing―purchasing at five times the rate we did two decades ago and tossing at a rate of one garbage truck every second. Not exactly a recipe for a livable planet or a fulfilling way to relate to our goods.
Weaving an alternative
Fibresheds are a response to this. Analogous to a watershed, a fibreshed is a network of producers and processors supplying their region with local and sustainable garment materials―the local food system of textiles, you could say.
Pioneered in California in 2011, fibreshed organizations now exist across the US, Canada, Europe, and beyond. Everyone from shepherds, flax growers, and spinners to natural dyers, mill owners, and designers are collaborating to build a viable way of clothing ourselves with what a region can sustainably offer. All while developing local livelihoods and stewarding the air, land, and water.
Natural threads for the home
Take natural, local fibres beyond the wardrobe! Think rugs, blankets, yarn, dishtowels, etc.
Tailored approach
“Fibre,” under this model, might be linen (from flax), hemp, cotton, silk, hides, wool, or any other plant or animal material appropriate to the place and conducive to a “soil-to-soil” cycle. At this smaller, more intentional scale, seed varieties and animal breeds can be chosen for local hardiness and compatibility with the bioregion.
Small wool producer Tara Klager chose to raise heritage sheep at her Providence Lane Homestead in Alberta because they could thrive on the rustic bush and scrub with minimal inputs.
“They’ve already survived so many cultural and climatic upheavals,” says Klager. “Why wouldn’t we go back to the well? ‘Look, you’ve done it before―help us through this next one.’ I think that’s good value; that’s good sense.”
Klager practises intensive rotational grazing, a system of moving her flock daily to avoid damage to plant root systems while distributing manure fertility across her property. The rewards of this are, in fact, her primary motivation for shepherding: “What I love is the way sheep can positively impact the land.”
High-quality wool is just a byproduct. This ethos, following the principles of regenerative agriculture, is typical of fibresheds. Fibre production that measurably sequesters carbon and improves ecosystem health can now be verified with a Climate Beneficial™ label, and California has introduced a grant incentive for grazing practices that reduce wildfire risk.
Fibreshed near you
Search fibershed.org for a network in your region. Nothing near you? Maybe you’d like to blaze the trail and create one!
Cultural fabric
Fibresheds also help develop the deep repositories of skills and knowledge required to grow natural fibres and turn them into usable textiles. Klager cites the need for infrastructure (small-scale mills, for example), and for human experience with different materials and processes―challenges that are best tackled collectively.
The goal is to have thriving cottage industries and local economies, plus the resilience of knowing how to clothe ourselves sustainably amid whatever environmental, economic, or political disruptions occur.
What you pay for
The truth is that this “farm-to-closet” approach doesn’t come cheap. The first step toward affordability is, of course, to consume less (we could cut our clothing consumption by 80 percent and still be at year 2000 levels).
Mending and repurposing are equally essential. Then, as Klager suggests, “You have to decide where the value is for you. As you’re making these value-based decisions, ensure that you have a philosophy or a reasoning behind it that you can live with.”
If you do invest in a wool sweater, linen pants, or a pair of buckskin moccasins made ethically from the land and people of your region, you’re bound to hold that item dear and, chances are, it will be a very long time indeed before you toss it. Even then, it can return to the soil with no harm done.
Plastic-clad
It may be wrinkle-resistant, quick-dry, and inexpensive, but polyester is among the most environmentally costly fabrics. Its lifecycle looks something like the following:
- crude oil extraction where chemicals and huge amounts of energy are used to process into plastic
- shedding of microplastics which occurs during production, throughout use, and disposal
- products that are non-biodegradable and not feasibly recyclable at end-of-life
But it’s made from water bottles!
Instead of extracting more petroleum, polyester can also be manufactured from used PET beverage bottles. This seems like a win-win, until you consider that this version sheds microplastics at a higher rate than virgin polyester and is harder to reprocess into something new when discarded. Plastic bottles themselves can be recycled several times, but the minute they become a garment, that cycle dead-ends.
By another name
Polyester is, by far, the most common synthetic material in use, but other large-footprint, plastic-based fibres you might find on your label include the following:
- nylon
- acrylic
- acetate
- elastane (Lycra/Spandex)
- olefin (polypropylene)
- vinyl
There’s no “away”
Efforts are underway to improve recyclability and reduce microplastics shedding, but there’s really no getting around the fact that, in the end, polyester and other synthetics are plastics that have to be absorbed by the planet.
This article was originally published in the April 2025 issue of alive magazine.
