Fashion Journalism & Consciousness Local Coffee Shop Fashion Heroes
It’s 2:36 P.M. on a Thursday. My best friend and I have ventured out of our very comfortable home to do homework at our favorite cafe, Young Blood, located in the heart of downtown Fargo. I am a little hesitant about what fashion findings I will come across in North Dakota, but as Blondie is roaring through the speakers and the people are bustling in and out the doors, I become a little more hopeful.
As I sit in this pretentious coffee shop, I am accompanied by many others who also decided to leave their house today. A biker is sitting next to me, I do not know his name, but through my observation, he is quite clumsy, a little concerning for a man who drives on two wheels. The unknown biker, accidentally knocked over his water glass, sitting snuggly, as if nothing had happened. The biker, clearly enjoys the simple things in life and has a carefree persona as he is wearing: classic boy-cut jeans with one sleeve folded up towards his knee and a soft-looking, dark green sweater, classic creme socks, and leather loafers. He sits with his hot macchiato in a tiny glass next to his computer that he is doing work on. It is clearly a Thursday in this college town as people are dressed comfortably and trying to get their work done before Friday’s deadline. While sitting, I came to the conclusion that it was a ‘lazy’ fashion day for everyone but Eloise and me.
I am wearing navy blue Adidas track pants with purple stripes down the side, light blue Asics sneakers (I swear Asics tennis shoes are cool now), a small white tank top with a purple knitted sweater with a white, light purple, and violet plaid pattern throughout. I pinned the sweater up to be a shoulder shrug. I have four braids in my hair and rings flooding my hands. To my right, my best friend, Eloise, wears black knee-high leather boots with white socks sticking out of the top. She is having quite the Blair Waldorf moment in her short, khaki school skirt, blue and white striped, collared, Calvin Klien polo, and a high ponytail and black headband combo. I would consider us to be the fashion innovators of this bland town.
Around us, there are a lot of flare pants, creme colors, and sweaters. A nice group of college girls sit across from us as they do their homework, I appreciate their Thursday looks: sherpa jackets, sherpa on shoes, monochrome cream outfits, and beanies, a minimalistic fall style. The coffee shop people-watching is entertaining. Sweatpants, cargo pants, flared trousers, and sneakers are a staple today. A pair of mini Ugg boots also walked across the white marble floors, whether or not you think it is appropriate to start wearing Ugg boots is up to you, but for us northerners, there is a short window between summer and winter, so chunky boot season starts as soon as August ends, because, who knows, it could snow tomorrow in this town.
I wouldn’t normally deem any styles worn by North Dakotans to be trendy or even exciting for that matter, but today was a breath of fresh air at my local coffee shop. The downtown traffic screams to me that Sherpa is back, creams are the perfect fall colors, and comfortability is admired. Thanks to Young Blood, I stand corrected, maybe Fargo fashion isn’t all that hopeless after all.
My Work in Writing
Inside the Mind of Kimberly Corday
Born and raised in La La Land, Kimberly Corday showcases her wacky wonderfulness through her words and creations alike. Corday’s work is a middle finger to the institutional dismissal of decorative arts as she collages vintage pieces together and creates wearable sculptures that inhabit the human. Defying all the traditional ideas of garment construction, Kimberly’s designs are both hand-sewn (which she taught herself how to do) and sustainable. The talented self-taught genius uses upcycled, delicate materials of the past that she says are, “Like unearthed vestiges bound to be wiped from archeological record, these bodily objects are pregnant with lost time, arousing conflicting impressions of rococo splendor and unwieldy handwork.” Her designs meet at Coquette Boulevard and Frankensteinian Avenue as they are hauntingly beautiful. She is an inspiring artist who has the ability to bring a dress worn by a gorgeous woman in a Rococo painting alive.
I was lucky enough to be able to get a glance into the incredible mind of miss Corday (after totally fangirling in her dm’s and asking if she would be interested in doing an interview, to which she replied flattered and delighted) and our conversation went like…
AJ: So, first off, I was wondering how old you are, where you’re from, what got you into art, and what your creative process is like.
K: Sure, so I’m 30, I just turned thirty this year and I was born and raised in LA. I started studying with a painting teacher when I was like nine, and I was hellbent on becoming an artist. I was lucky enough to go live on the East Coast and study at the Rhode Island School of Design. I really don’t remember a time when I wasn’t painting, I feel like I just came out the womb obsessed with painting and I would drag my mom to different local museums, like the Norton Simon, and I would literally just stand in front of a Van Gogh Painting for like 20 minutes.
AJ: Just marveling at it?
K: Yeah, and I couldn’t tell what was drawing me to painting specifically, but it felt like there was just this magic and – Jerry Saltz has this quote where he says it’s like a way of communicating with our ancestors – it’s like a visual form of archeological record.
AJ: Yes! I love that you bring that up because you say something similar to that in your statement on your website – You have such a way with words.
K: Oh, thank you! I feel much more confident in my writing abilities, especially when it comes to talking about my work.
AJ: Well with everything I’ve read so far, you really do put it all so perfectly.
K: Well, thank you! I try to be really thoughtful with it because I think writing about your work is really important, and it took me a while to be able to write about it and conceptualize it, and put it into words, you know?
AJ: Yeah.
K: And I’m still searching, I’m still like, what am I really doing? I still ask myself so many questions. I definitely wouldn’t say that I’ve figured myself out.
AJ: You didn’t start doing textile design until 2016, right?
K: Correct, yeah, I started painting when I was a wee one, and my whole life, I was like I want to be a painter, I want to be represented by a gallery in Los Angeles, and then I realized that it just wasn’t making me happy anymore. So, during my senior year at RISD, one of my professors could just tell that I was hitting a wall– Like painting started feeling like I was just banging my head against a wall– It was one of those moments where I was like, I’ve been telling myself all my life that this is the dream and this is how it has to be, but then I actually checked in with myself and I was like, wait I actually don’t want this. The canvas felt really limiting, and my professor, to who I owe so much, was like, “Why don’t you try messing around with fabric and maybe incorporate it into the canvas.” And she showed me all these artists like Eva Hesse, who blew my mind, and I was like, “Fuck painting, this is exciting!” It was just so out of the box and with that, I started dabbling into textile art until someone was like, “Well why don’t you put this on a body?” And that’s how it all started.
AJ: Would you say that your creative process is chaotic or calculated?
K: I’d say a little bit of both I feel like it starts out chaotic and messy. I feel like the idea of play is so important in making a new piece, it really comes down to just pretending like you’re making the piece for yourself and no one else is going to see it, which takes the pressure off and opens the door to more opportunities to be messier until it all falls together. Once I start to see a new piece forming, it feels more sculptural because I am collaging different pieces together and not straightforward sewing.
AJ: That is my favorite form of… fashion? It has to be a new form of fashion construction or something and I love it because I’m not good at sewing or following the outline of sewing things, I’d rather just envision what I want to do in my head and then just try to do it.
K: Totally, I’m the same. I hated paint by numbers when I was younger, if you tell me to follow rules, I’m gonna figure out a way to break them because I just get bored really easily. So, I guess you could call my process really painterly or sculptural and really intuitive and collage-based.
AJ: I love that. You said in an interview with Glamcult that your process is, “Frankenstein.”
K: Yes! It feels really disjointed until it all comes together.
AJ: So, as a self-taught textile designer, what is the most challenging part about sewing such intricate designs with such delicate fabrics?
K: I’d say two things, one, the intricate designs really take a toll on my body, I have such a tight upper body because I’m always hunched over a piece. I’m sure I’m gonna be arthritic in the next couple of years. And two, the delicate fabrics are so finicky, they’re like temperamental characters that you’re trying to figure out how to wrestle down, but not break. And for me, when I find an antique material and I source it, it’s hard not to be so precious with it. Sometimes that limits creativity because you’re thinking you need to preserve it and then you’re thinking about the wearer and the buyer, and you have to ask yourself, “Is this functional?” “If somebody wears this out in public, is it going to degrade?” So there's a lot that goes into working with such delicate designs, especially ones that haven’t been preserved well. Like, for instance, on the [Mother May I] shoot, there’s a piece that’s a heart top with feathers that literally fell apart on the shoot, so it was truly just like an art piece.
AJ: Yeah you might as well just frame it and put it on the wall.
K: Yeah, it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to put up with, I’m just glad it was memorialized in a photo.
AJ: So, what inspired you to use vintage fabrics and where do you source them?
K: I go to swap meets, I go to estate sales, honestly, Etsy and eBay are my guilty pleasures. When I look at a blank bolt of fabric, I actually feel anxiety, like there are almost too many opportunities to make something, but if I look at a vintage quilt that has character and is kind of falling apart, I feel like it tells a story, and it, not literally, but starts to talk to me and tells me what it wants to be, you know?
AJ: Yes, I totally get that, I am a very big vintage shopper and when I see a unique piece from the past I always wish that there was a card that told the story of the garment's past life.
K: Right? I love it, but it also leaves so much room for making up those stories in your mind, like who wore this and who was it passed down to? I think it’s magical, and as I said, it’s like speaking with our ancestors.
AJ: Yeah seriously, especially when they’re vintage fabrics that literally came from the ancestors.
K: Yes, and with painting, it’s so toxic for the environment, and I wanted to do something with my work that is sustainable and I was really inspired by the growing sustainable movement in fashion.
AJ: So, what was it that you saw that made you think, “Yep, that needs to become something I can wear.”
K: I’m so intrigued by a 1920s satin robe just hanging by itself that’s kind of ghostly and it just draws you in, the mystery of it, you know? But I also just love the way a fabric looks while it’s off of a body, so I’m like, how can I take the way that it’s draped on a hanger and once it’s on a body, make it have those same folds? Rather than a human inhabiting it.
AJ: Like it inhabiting the human?
K: Totally
AJ: So, what inspired Mother May I?
K: The concept came, honestly, after I made the twelve pieces. I made them really intuitively and I was in this flow, it started in April of this year, and I was just like, I’m not even going to second guess this flow, I’m just gonna ride this wave and then analyze it. So, I finished the pieces in late August and I kind of looked at them all together – I feel like romance and womanhood are huge themes in the concepts that drive my work – and I felt like each look was a character and I wanted to organize a shoot where each image, or look, would be a different character. I wanted there to be a contrast between virginal and vixen, motherhood and womanhood, and childhood – almost like characters in a play. I mean, early 20th-century cinema is a huge influence on my work so a lot of the poses and the aesthetics came from certain images or films that really inspire me.
AJ: That’s so cool. Now, I know that there were a lot of people that went into photographing your collection, Mother May I, but I was wondering if you were the mastermind behind the idea and aesthetic of the shoot?
K: I mean I definitely wouldn’t have been able to do it without the team, but it all stemmed from – I was pretty nervous to pitch the idea to Kate the photographer actually, because I was like, this feels all over the place and like – I don’t know sometimes it just takes the right photographer to be like, “I see you I get it.” But it all came from my head, and I created this mood board that I felt basically captured what I was trying to say, and I sent it to Kate, and she was like, “Oh my God, yes, this is so my aesthetic, I’m so down.” It felt like it was meant to be with her because it was the first time that it felt like someone took my vision from my brain like actually plucked it out of my brain and magically made it appear.
AJ: Ugh, that is the best feeling ever.
K: It was the best, like finding the right collaborator sometimes feels like dating, because it’s finding one person in a huge sea of creatives, and I’m so grateful. And Paige, who is my right-hand woman who styled everything, I feel like we share a brain, and she totally gets me, which is crucial. She’s a rockstar.
AJ: So, what’s your favorite piece so far that you’ve made?
K: It’s hard to pick, but when I’m wearing them, I like the way I feel the most in the, What Happened to Baby Jane skirt and the Venus de Milo skirt that is at Café Forgot right now.
AJ: When did you start working with Café Forgot?
K: I think it was February of this year, it was really recent. My friend Tashi– I mean I fricken love her work, I don’t know, maybe I’m biased, but she is so talented– she also works with repurposed fabrics and its all hand sewn, she has been selling there since 2019, and I reached out to Tashi and I asked if she thought they would be interested in carrying my work and she said, “Hell yeah!” And she got me connected with Café Forgot and they liked my work, and they’re inspiring because they’re badass businesswomen and they’re also so sweet. They’re really lovely people.
AJ: Would you say that being with Café forgot has influenced your career at all?
K: Oh definitely, I’m terrible at promoting myself and it almost feels like a gallery representing an artist. They are very talented and magical when it comes to selling pieces, but more importantly, they get my work and they can communicate my concept and aesthetic to people in a way that I am too shy to, so it feels like I’m being represented by them, and I really appreciate them. It’s exposed my work to many different audiences, I mean I didn’t expect to make this work and have Gen Z connect with it at all.
AJ: Yeah, and here I am…
K: I was shocked! I thought that I was old and out of touch. I mean, I’m inspired by renaissance paintings, I didn’t think that Gen Z would care. But I love it and I love that it’s speaking to different generations and I wouldn’t have been able to do it without Café Forgot.
AJ: They’re like your friend at a party who’s like, “Well Kimberly can do this.”
K: Totally, they’re like my rep.
AJ: In an interview with VoyageLA, you brought up the fact that Picasso wasn’t tied down by one form of expressionism and said how you were guided by that, so, I was wondering if you have recently tried or want to try any new forms or mediums of art?
K: Okay, yes, I mean, you’re hearing it first, but I really want to produce a short film this year or next, if I get the funds too. I’ve been seeing a lot of fashion videos come out and I’m just like, I feel like this genre can be pushed, I feel like it could be more narrative based and feel less like a perfume ad. And like I said, I’m so influenced by turn-of-the-century and early 20th-century films that I think it would be so fun to produce and create a directive film, and Kate and I really want to work on one together.
AJ: Well, I would 110% watch a whole film based on your last collection.
K: Thank you, when everyone saw the title image for Mother May I, they were all like, this looks like a film I want to watch.
AJ: Yeah seriously, it does, and it looks so good, I want to print it out and hang it up in my room honestly.
K: Awww, I was looking into doing some sort of merch like that.
AJ: Yeah, you totally should!
K: Yeah, I’ll look into it more.
AJ: So, I know Mother May I came out not too long ago, but are you currently working on any new projects, other than planning for a film?
K: I am! I just started my fifth collection, and it’s all repurposed upholsteries from my mom's basement that are stunning. It feels like a goldmine, I’m super excited to work with it.
AJ: Do you feel that your work has achieved that same sort of tension or surprise that Rococo art inhabits?
K: I’d like to think so, I want to keep trying to capture that contrast that you see in Rococo painting like it’s really sweet and girly, but it’s also really sensual when you look closely, and I tried to capture that in Mother May I, you know, that sweet and naughty narrative.
AJ: Well, I think you definitely did, especially in the photoshoot; it really captured it.
K: Thank you! That means a lot because for my first two collections the responses were like, “Wow it’s really pretty,” and I’m like, I want my work to be more than just pretty, I need there to be some sort of contradiction because that’s the work that I’m most drawn too, you know.
AJ: Yeah, like, you want it to be hauntingly beautiful, not just beautiful.
K: Yep. Exactly.
AJ: What are you manifesting for yourself in 2023?
K: A film, a popup would be sick, and a jewelry collaboration. I’m trying to source vintage charms– there are some Victorian charms that have people's hair in them, which was a way of memorializing their dead relatives in the past– but yeah, I want to source things like that and incorporate it into jewelry that has some sort of dialogue with the clothing.
AJ: That is so cool, I can’t wait to see that in the future.
AJ: My last question is, what does a day in the life of Miss Kimberly Corday entail?
K: Oh my God, this is the most boring answer, but, I wake up, I have coffee and breakfast, I work in the studio for a few hours, have lunch, work in the studio more, and there’s always music playing in my studio, it can range anywhere from punk music to classical, but I gotta keep it mixed so I don’t get too sleepy. Then, I’ll usually do some stretches and talk to my friends. On a weekday, I’ll probably just work more in the studio, but on the weekends I have to get out and go out with my friends.
AJ: Well that’s a pretty peaceful life.
K: Yeah, I mean, I feel like a hermit sometimes.
AJ: No! I expected you to be in the studio a lot, I mean if you weren't in the studio so much you wouldn’t have as perfect of art as you do.
K: Aww, thanks.
As you can see, Kimberly Corday is an inspiration who followed her dreams and paved her own way in the world of fashion design, creating valuable, captivating art that wears the human. Her heart and her work are both too pure for this earth, but I am forever grateful that I was placed here at the same time as Miss Kimmy Corday.
You can shop Kimberly’s designs at https://shop.cafeforgot.com/shop/Kimberly-Corday/208
& you can see all of her work at https://kimberlycorday.com/
Ripping Through the Fabric of Time
Collina Strada’s Spring/Summer 2024 Ready-to-Wear Collection
Collina Strada, launched by fashion designer Hillary Taymor in 2008, is a fashion collective on a sustainability journey that partners with the OR Foundation in support of a circular textile economy. The brand uses various sustainable materials in its design practices, including deadstock fabrics, recycled cotton, and rose sylk, an organic cellulose fiber made from rose bushes and stems. The most recent collection from Collina Strada, “Soft is Hard,” debuted on September 8th in Brooklyn, New York. The show notes read, “The Earth’s on fire; why are we here?” proceeded by a description of Miss Taymor’s spectacular vision behind it all, saying, “As we grin and bear the excruciating present, in which the world burns, and reproductive, trans and general human rights are under threat, we summon the strength of radical softness to defend ourselves. We delve deep within to reconnect to the universal feminine energy, reminding ourselves that there is daring in delicacy, power in the pretty, and grit in the girly.”
In order to achieve this radically subversive feminine collection, Taymore decided to use artificial intelligence to her advantage. Instead of looking at AI as a creative threat, she found it to be a creative tool. Her team fed all of Collina Strada’s past collections into the AI machine and worked on perfecting the results for seven weeks. Once all of the final finishes were made, it was time to construct the garments in real life– not an easy feat for a collection that has been digitally made out of thin air. Taymore explained to Vogue that the AI offered “different draping elements that kind of feel chaotic but also fancy and really fresh.”
The whole collection exhibits a refurbished collage feel to it that is displayed through innovative patterns, bright colors, and authentically feminine detailing. Because each look was first generated through artificial intelligence, every element of the collection was utterly and unapologetically unique. Tiedyes and plaids were mended together on the same print in perfect harmony. Satin dresses had ulterior motives, with subtle grungy tones. Dainty lace details and fringe brought out inner femininity to each look. Altogether, the collection truly did portray a hard overtone to softness, portraying the daring in delicacy, the power in pretty, and the grit in girly.
Today, we spend a lot of time trying to overshadow the darkness with light as we smile through the madness. With every natural disaster and news article released, the secrets of the world are put in front of us as a ploy to destroy our hope in humanity, and even so, we rise victorious through self-expression and togetherness as we find beauty in the darkest places. Using sustainable materials, AI-generated designs, and showcasing the uncertainty of the world through the model's expressions as they stomped down the runway, this collection reflects the epitome of the spirit of our times.
All 44 of these looks will be readily available to consumers by January/February 2024. Here’s a link to the whole collection if you’d like to check it out for yourself: https://collinastrada.com/pages/spring-summer-2024
Garcia-Furtado, Laia. “Collina Strada Spring 2024 Ready-to-Wear Collection.” Vogue, Condé Nast, 8 Sept. 2023, www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/spring-2024-ready-to-wear/collina-strada#review.
“Sustainability Practices.” Collina Strada, collinastrada.com/pages/sustainability-practices. Accessed 20 Oct. 2023.
Mercer, Emily. “Collina Strada RTW Spring 2024.” WWD, Condé Nast, 9 Sept. 2023, wwd.com/runway/spring-2024/new-york/collina-strada/review/.
Raising Awareness: The Kantamanto Market in Accra, Ghana
The Kantamanto Market is a bustling center for trade and creativity in Accra, Ghana. It serves as a testament to the ingenuity and fortitude of Ghanaians as they breathe new life into old with the artisans of the marketplace who repurpose discarded garments, fabrics, and materials from the Global North. Although this is a vibrant environment that acts as an epicenter of Ghanaian economics and society, I seek to unveil where the forces of globalization intersect with local realities, reshaping their livelihood. Here, I will confront questions of power, agency, and inequality, examining how the market’s dynamics are shaped by historical legacies of colonialism, neoliberal policies, and structural inequalities that permeate Ghanaian society.
It is also of utmost importance that the truth behind the effects that fast fashion and over-consumerism have on not only the earth but also people and communities who have been burdened with cleaning up the Global North’s waste for decades is properly brought to the forefront of my journalistic mission and purpose. Culture, to me, is widely based on what clothes are worn, how they are consumed, and how they are produced. As a fashion major living in the age of fast fashion and over-consumerism, it is my duty to inform the larger population that what we wear and what we buy matters.
As each thread worn in the West right now is directly intertwined with those remade in Ghana, it is a narrative, woven from your clothes, of resilience, adaptation, and human endeavor.
The Kanatamamto Market, also known as Kaneshie Market, is one of Ghana's largest and busiest markets, located in the Kaneshie district of Accra, one of the most populous and diverse areas of the city. It is a bustling marketplace where locals and tourists alike can find various goods, from fresh produce and food items to clothing, electronics, and household goods. A lot of these “goods” come from a crippling pile of the Global North’s overconsumerism and waste that is discarded in West Africa. I say “goods” because marketers will often pay for a large package of completely unusable or unwearable items they must repair and remake to have a shot at selling for profit.
The market is located in an urban area, surrounded by commercial and residential buildings. The market itself is a sprawling complex of stalls and shops, organized into different sections based on the type of goods being sold. At first glance, it may seem chaotic and very confusing to navigate its labyrinthine alleys, piles of clothes and goods, and vendors using unconventional items, like cars and tents to host their products. It would take a lot of work to memorize this marketplace maze, which is a reflection of Ghana's diverse cultural heritage. Vendors and customers come from different ethnic groups across the country, making it a place where different languages, customs, and traditions intersect. It is also a haven where traditional Ghanaian crafts and art forms are showcased and sold, and is an intriguing tourist attraction.
Historically, the Kanatamamto Market has a long and storied history that dates back to colonial times. The market has evolved over the years, from a small trading post to the bustling marketplace it is today. The market has survived political upheavals, economic challenges, and social changes, and it remains a vital part of Ghanaian society.
The market is a true testament to Ghanaian society, unveiling the intricate web sewn between neoliberal policies, colonialism, and livelihood. It serves as a meeting place for people from different ethnic backgrounds, and a gathering center for cultural exchange and interaction to take place. In hindsight this might sound promising, but from an anthropological perspective, and as a fashion journalism major, I have to wonder if the textile waste going into the Kantamanto Market is crippling Ghanaian society and influencing their livelihood.
In an article titled, “Conceptualising Marketplaces in Anglophone West Africa: A Sexpartite Framework,” Lewis Asante explains the importance of marketplaces from both an economic and cultural standpoint, demonstrating that the Anglophone West African Marketplace (AWAMP) "is a multidimensional concept characterized by six interrelated features, namely physical, social, economic, cultural, governance, and contestation attributes." For West Africa, the marketplace undoubtedly functions as the economic engine that connects rural farmers, urban traders, and urban consumers, along with serving as centers of job creation, tourism, and entrepreneurial skill development as avenues for wealth accumulation, and as a significant source of livelihood for traders and their families; however, the author of this article argues that to focus primarily on the economics involved in the marketplace is to completely miss the vast social, cultural, and political importance of it all. With that, it's apparent to me that in my research of the Kantamanto Market, many more factors go into it than just the Western world's fashion overconsumption and waste.
According to “Community and individual sense of trust and psychological distress among the poor in Accra, Ghana” by Mawuli Kushitor, mental health disorders present significant health challenges to populations in sub-Sarahan Africa, “especially in deprived urban poor contexts.” In this study, the anthropologists argue that trust, “which is often measured as a component of social capital, has a more direct effect on reducing community stressors in such deprived communities.” To obtain this information, they collected data from the Urban Health and Poverty Survey conducted in 2013 in three urban poor communities in Accra: Agbogbloshie, James Town, and Ussher Town. In the study,
“Psychological distress was measured with a symptomatic well-being scale. Participants’ perceptions of their neighbours’ willingness to trust, protect, and assist others were used to measure a community's sense of trust. Participants’ willingness to ask for and receive help from neighbours was used to measure personal sense of trust.”
Through controlled demographic factors, perceived economic standing, education, locality of residence, and analyzing data using descriptive and multivariate regressions, the study found that “more trusting individuals are significantly less likely to be psychologically distressed within deprived urban communities in Accra,” which I’m sure is even more connected to living among a graveyard of the west’s over-consumeristic waste.
It’s important to understand these two precedents when considering this research, which leads us to Enna U’s “Ghana: Understanding the Impacts of Textile Waste in the Urbanised Global South which outlines the ethnographic case study of Valentina Portela as she researched Kantamanto Market for her Master’s Project at the University of Bristol. Her study is based on a simple guiding question: “What happens to the fashion pieces I donate to charity?” To which she quickly found the answer too. She spent two weeks in Accra, Ghana, to make Ghanaian voices the center of her research. She conducted 12 in-depth interviews with 12 informal market traders operating in West Africa’s Kantamanto Market. She was able to gather educational and powerful insight, “Through ethnographic methods that contribute to wider literature on the socio-economic conditions and vulnerabilities of working in this trade, the environmental impacts, and a greater understanding of how pre-loved fashion pieces become ecologically damaging fashion waste.” In her work, she illustrates the context behind the study, the environmental crisis, and how the Kantamento Market works from the inside.
"Castoff from the West, pearls in Kantamanto? A critique of second‐hand clothes trade" by Lydia Manieson and Ferrero-Regis Tiziana explains how African countries are today's major importers of the lowest grade of second-hand clothing (SHC). With the intense circulation of fast fashion in the Global North, the trade of second-hand clothing has boomed since the 90s. Within the article, you find that the whole fast fashion business model is fueled by this trade of SHC, leading to reduced quality of clothing, shorter clothing lifespans, and accelerated discard of clothing. Even more so, the complexity of the international geographies of the SHC trade creates opacity and secrecy, maintaining inequalities and imbalances between the Global North and South, which continues a relationship of colonial dependence. The author takes a critical look at the Kantamento Market and explores their opinions on the trade of second-hand clothing, in which they explain these are unwanted donated clothing, known as “Obroni w’awu,” which means the white man is dead.
As you can see, not all trash is another man's treasure, especially when it all gets dumped in one place. Did you know that the U.S. and Europe consume around 36 billion units of clothing each year and 85% of that clothing gets discarded? The last article reviewed precedes me when I say some of the clothes you may have donated to the thrift store that didn’t make it to the sales floor could very well be in Ghana. A statistic recorded by Environment by Impact reads, “Despite having a population of only 32 million, Ghana receives 15 million garments per week.” Why is this you may ask?
Ghanaians are in a particularly forced arrangement with the U.S. and Europe that gives them the power to (1) take away grant money from Ghana (2) Implement more taxes on Ghana, and (3) Remove Ghana’s duty-free status which would cause them to have to pay import, sales, value-added, and other taxes if Ghana does not take in their waste (Environment by Impact).
Coordinated by the OR Foundation, a US-based non-profit multimedia research project exploring the second-hand clothing trade in Accra, Ghana, Dead White Mans Closet is at the forefront of making a change. Their research is specific to the Kantamanto Market, as it is the largest used clothing market in West Africa. They partner with sustainable fashion brands like Collina Strada as a commitment to help clean up the mess that the Global North has caused. This project aims to spread awareness about the impacts that secondhand clothing has on Ghanaian society while gaining a personal understanding of the environmental, social, and economic implications of this industry.
“Local Market Institutions and Solid Waste Management in Accra’s Open-Air Markets,” an article by Rosina Essien and Manfred Sprocter points out how waste management in the North is a disproportionate response to minimizing waste as it cripples cities in the South, such as Ghana, as they are drowning in the global North’s waste. Based on the hopeful achievement of policy measures such as the 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development proposed in the North (Sustainable Development Goal 11), which seeks to make cities inclusive, safe, resilient, and sustainable, the lack of attention to the roles that local marketers have in solid waste management in the South, undermines itself. This fact has brought about the argument that Essein presents to remove structural barriers impeding local market institutions’ participation in the existing and newly proposed systems for managing urban market environments.
The OR Foundation, a non-profit registered in the US and operating primarily in Ghana, is tackling this problem on multiple fronts, using research, advocacy, and innovation. The foundation draws attention to textile waste and finds ways to reuse it.
Yvette Yaa Konadu Tetteh, a British Ghanaian who swam over 450km (280 miles) in 40 days, became the first person known to swim the length of the waterway; however, this was not her goal. The sole purpose of her mission was to find out what is in the water and raise awareness of pollution in Ghana. Supported by the OR Foundation, of which Tetteh is a board member, the campaign against textile waste in Ghana shows how fast fashion is one very serious cause of increasing water pollution in the country.
“Ghana imports about 15 million items of secondhand clothing each week.” In 2021, Ghana imported 214 million dollars (£171m) worth of used clothes, making it the world’s biggest importer… As fast fashion – cheap clothes bought and cast aside as trends change – has grown, the volume of clothing coming to the market has increased while the quality has gone down (The Guardian).
While she swims, Jacklyn Ofori Benson’s experience as one of about 30,000 people who depend on the Kantamanto Market for their livelihood is furious,
“Earlier that morning, when she cut open her bale, she found it full of stained denim shorts, ‘Today’s bale was very, very costly,’ she says. ‘Most of the 230 items were rubbish; I noticed so many bloodstains. I’m really angry and have thrown all of them away.’ To reinforce her point, she picks out other pairs of shorts with broken zips as well as stains that she has kept in the hope of someone buying them for a knockdown price.”
The secretary of the Kantamanto Hard Workers’ Association, John Opoku Agyemang, who has worked at the market for 24 years, recalls a time when all the clothing he received in bales could be resold; now, when he opens one, there are only about 70 reusable pieces. He goes on to say,
“The problem of waste is getting worse. For 12 years, the goods coming here have not been good, we can’t benefit from them. It’s my impression that countries abroad think Africa is very poor, so they give us low-quality goods and their waste.” And he’s right, Western propaganda has worked tirelessly to uphold the false narrative that Africa is a “3rd World Country in need of saving,” When in reality, their “saving” is occupation.
Kennie MacCarthy a product development coordinator for the OR Foundation, explains that
“The bulk of Kantamanto’s clothes come from the global secondhand clothing trade, a market that was valued at $5 billion in 2021. Many of these garments begin as donations in places such as Europe and North America. Charities collect clothes, which will either be given away to those in need or sold to raise money for their cause. But these organizations only sell about 10% of the items they receive. The rest go through a journey of sales, where each party buys what they can reuse or resell – until the last buyer is essentially left with the bottom of the barrel. Merchants at the end of this chain often work in markets like Kantamanto. They purchase used clothing by the bale, without knowing what’s inside, in hopes of selling it for profit.”
MacCarthy says these bales are usually mislabeled and filled with items in terrible condition, and because the quality is so poor, the majority of clothes that can’t be sold litter the market’s floor or end up on nearby beaches and in makeshift landfills. This shouldn’t be anyone’s reality.
The OR Foundation in conversation with the Guardian explained that “about 40% of the clothing in Kantamanto leaves as waste. Some of it is collected by waste management services, some is burned at the edges of the market, while the rest is dumped in informal landfills. About two miles from the market lies one of these so-called informal landfills, this one, Old Fadama, a once vibrant and thriving community now resembles an apocalyptic hellscape. It is the largest unsanctioned dump for clothing waste leaving Kantamanto [The OR Foundation believes]. The area is home to at least 80,000 people, many of whom have migrated from northern Ghana, where the climate crisis is affecting farming, now living makeshift homes built on layers of rubbish. Here, “Animals graze on metres-high piles of clothes and plastic. A TV lies in the mud. Birds circle overhead while flies swarm close to the ground. Korle Lagoon is here; its waters are black and filled with excrement, its shores lined with litter. The air is hazy with smoke from fires burning waste. Rubbish collectors pick up plastic bottles, put them into sacks and carry them on their heads. No one smiles,” but this isn’t how it always was in Old Fadama. Alhassan Fatawu, a 24-year-old photographer who moved to Old Fadama as a child with his mother remembers swimming in the lagoon and playing on its shores.
“As it is now, I can’t go near the lagoon. It’s like a death pit. People used to fish there, there were a lot of canoes with people depending on the lagoon for their livelihood.” He adds: “The last decade was mad [in terms of waste being dumped there] … It’s so upsetting.”
One beach in Jamestown next to a huge port development financed by China, hemmed in by cliffs that have clothes hanging off them, with no room to walk out into the waves without stepping over mounds of clothes and plastic waste, while about 80 miles east, where Tettah started her swim, the scene could not have been more different. At one end of the beach, Thomas Alotey sits on a boat mending fishing nets:
“We want the situation to change but nothing will happen,” he says. “I know some of the clothes come from abroad but it is Ghana’s responsibility to dispose of the waste properly.” He adds: “We are suffering. When I go out to fish, I come back with more clothes in my nets than fish.”
While on the other end, the water is clean and enticing; the banks of the river are lined with palm trees and sandy beaches, and there’s only the odd canoe for company.
Tettah’s swimming journey serves as a true testament to the livelihood and resilience of Ghanaians, showing the truth behind fast fashion and what it’s doing to communities in Ghana. If you ask me, it sounds like Ghana is in a really toxic relationship with the West and it’s our job to help them get out of it.
This research is important to me, not only as a fashion major, but as a person very passionate about a circular textile economy and freeing, so-called “3rd world countries” from the apartheid occupation that is the Global North. Fast fashion is killing the planet, people, and communities, and not enough people know about the affected communities. No one thinks about where the mass amounts of donated clothes go and who they affect, but we should, and it’s not too late to start now.