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Sara Idacavage, Ph.D., is Assistant Professor of Fashion Media at Southern Methodist University. In addition to historical and cultural scholarship, her research focuses on transforming fashion education through sustainable thinking.
Lauren Downing Peters, Ph.D., is Associate Professor of Fashion Studies and Director of the Fashion Study Collection at Columbia College Chicago. Her research focuses on the history of plus-size fashion, the lived experience of fat sartorial embodiment, reconsidered histories of American fashion, and transformed and inclusive fashion pedagogies.
When we began the MA Fashion Studies program at Parsons, sustainability was not yet central to our academic work. Today, it has become the driving force behind our practice. Over the past fifteen years, the term “sustainable fashion” has become both increasingly visible and frustratingly vague. While its rise in public discourse has signaled a broader cultural awareness, it has also been diluted by notions of “green growth.” Even with years of experience in this space, we continue to ask ourselves whether our teaching is making a tangible impact—especially in an industry, and an educational system, still anchored in growth, speed, and overproduction.
As graduates of the MA Fashion Studies program at Parsons (Lauren in 2012 and Sara in 2014) and longtime FSJ editors (Lauren co-founding the journal in 2011 and Sara joining the editorial team the following year), we’ve been inspired by how much the publication and community have grown over the years. This special issue—and the forthcoming release of our co-edited book, Teaching Fashion Studies: Pedagogy, Perspectives, Practice (projected to be released in 2026)—offered us an opportunity to pause and reflect on how our thinking has shifted and our pedagogy has evolved. The following dialogue, composed across time zones via a series of long text messages exchanged between France, Spain, and the United States, captures an ongoing conversation between friends and colleagues about the challenges and joys of teaching sustainability. In sharing it, we hope to underscore the value of peer dialogue and critical self-reflection in a field that often privileges productivity over pause and individualism over community.
As graduates of the MA Fashion Studies program at Parsons (Lauren in 2012 and Sara in 2014) and longtime FSJ editors (Lauren co-founding the journal in 2011 and Sara joining the editorial team the following year), we’ve been inspired by how much the publication and community have grown over the years. This special issue—and the forthcoming release of our co-edited book, Teaching Fashion Studies: Pedagogy, Perspectives, Practice (projected to be released in 2026)—offered us an opportunity to pause and reflect on how our thinking has shifted and our pedagogy has evolved. The following dialogue, composed across time zones via a series of long text messages exchanged between France, Spain, and the United States, captures an ongoing conversation between friends and colleagues about the challenges and joys of teaching sustainability. In sharing it, we hope to underscore the value of peer dialogue and critical self-reflection in a field that often privileges productivity over pause and individualism over community.
Lauren
These days, we’re both deeply involved in fashion sustainability as educators, but was it something you were thinking about (or even aware of) when you started the MAFS?
These days, we’re both deeply involved in fashion sustainability as educators, but was it something you were thinking about (or even aware of) when you started the MAFS?
Sara
Not at all! When I first started at Parsons, I was still a bit of a fast fashion-addict who was just dazzled by the glamour of the industry and the allure of the museum world. I knew that I wanted to have some greater impact on the world of fashion, but I wasn’t yet aware of the extent of the issues that are present in the industry. How about you?
Not at all! When I first started at Parsons, I was still a bit of a fast fashion-addict who was just dazzled by the glamour of the industry and the allure of the museum world. I knew that I wanted to have some greater impact on the world of fashion, but I wasn’t yet aware of the extent of the issues that are present in the industry. How about you?
Lauren
No. Definitely not. I think I only became aware of fashion sustainability in the Fashion Cultures class during the second semester of the MAFS. Mary Ping of Slow and Steady Wins the Race was a guest speaker and I found her sort of “winking” approach to slow fashion to be both refreshing and brilliant. I didn’t really get serious about fashion sustainability—specifically, as a personal pursuit—until I was doing my PhD. What about you? What was your “aha” moment…your villain origin story?
No. Definitely not. I think I only became aware of fashion sustainability in the Fashion Cultures class during the second semester of the MAFS. Mary Ping of Slow and Steady Wins the Race was a guest speaker and I found her sort of “winking” approach to slow fashion to be both refreshing and brilliant. I didn’t really get serious about fashion sustainability—specifically, as a personal pursuit—until I was doing my PhD. What about you? What was your “aha” moment…your villain origin story?
Sara
I suppose my interest really came from working in museums and archives and pursuing fashion history academically. My thesis at Parsons was about the rise of American ready-to-wear, which made me want to learn more about how people obtained clothing before ready-made production.
The more I learned about the history of clothing consumption and became more attuned to the materiality of garments through archival research and a growing love of vintage, I began to question my own fashion choices and consumption habits. I wanted to understand how things got this way—not just accept the idea that “people want more stuff.” That ultimately led me to shift my teaching approaches and, eventually, pursue a PhD.
What made you get “serious” about it during your PhD? Had anything notable changed for you between then and when you first started the MAFS program?
I suppose my interest really came from working in museums and archives and pursuing fashion history academically. My thesis at Parsons was about the rise of American ready-to-wear, which made me want to learn more about how people obtained clothing before ready-made production.
The more I learned about the history of clothing consumption and became more attuned to the materiality of garments through archival research and a growing love of vintage, I began to question my own fashion choices and consumption habits. I wanted to understand how things got this way—not just accept the idea that “people want more stuff.” That ultimately led me to shift my teaching approaches and, eventually, pursue a PhD.
What made you get “serious” about it during your PhD? Had anything notable changed for you between then and when you first started the MAFS program?
Lauren
I think I got serious about sustainability because of the “Sweden” of all of it. To provide our readers (Hello!) with some context, I moved to Sweden to pursue my doctorate at the Centre for Fashion Studies at Stockholm University. There, I quickly learned that fashion sustainability is very intrinsic to Swedish style.
Everyone I met seemed to have small, tightly curated wardrobes filled with timeless, high-quality pieces, and many Swedish brands encouraged circularity by consigning gently used pieces alongside their new items.
I guess, to put it simply, my time in Stockholm introduced me to a new way to relate to and consume fashion. In my efforts to fit in, I just started to shop more like a Swede, and as such I became increasingly versed in sustainability issues.
I also learned a lot from you during that period as we were both working pretty intensely on FSJ together—both through your writing and our regular meetings. I’m pretty sure it was you who introduced me to Dana Thomas’ Fashionopolis and Britt Wray’s Generation Dread, so thank you, friend!
Can you talk a little about how you got serious about fashion sustainability during your PhD? And how did your research eventually come to (re)shape your pedagogy?
I think I got serious about sustainability because of the “Sweden” of all of it. To provide our readers (Hello!) with some context, I moved to Sweden to pursue my doctorate at the Centre for Fashion Studies at Stockholm University. There, I quickly learned that fashion sustainability is very intrinsic to Swedish style.
Everyone I met seemed to have small, tightly curated wardrobes filled with timeless, high-quality pieces, and many Swedish brands encouraged circularity by consigning gently used pieces alongside their new items.
I guess, to put it simply, my time in Stockholm introduced me to a new way to relate to and consume fashion. In my efforts to fit in, I just started to shop more like a Swede, and as such I became increasingly versed in sustainability issues.
I also learned a lot from you during that period as we were both working pretty intensely on FSJ together—both through your writing and our regular meetings. I’m pretty sure it was you who introduced me to Dana Thomas’ Fashionopolis and Britt Wray’s Generation Dread, so thank you, friend!
Can you talk a little about how you got serious about fashion sustainability during your PhD? And how did your research eventually come to (re)shape your pedagogy?
Sara
Pursuing a PhD only became a goal after I began rethinking how I was teaching fashion history and how it could be reframed through the lens of sustainability. By the end of 2019, I applied to a PhD program without a clear roadmap, since “fashion history with an emphasis on sustainability” wasn’t exactly a degree path—yet. A few months (and a global pandemic) later, I landed at the University of Georgia.
With no existing sustainable fashion courses at UGA, I got creative with electives and was particularly influenced by a class called “Sustainability and Education,” taken alongside K–12 science and social studies teachers. Ironically, stepping outside fashion helped me reimagine how to teach it.
Designing a sustainable fashion syllabus as part of my comprehensive exams led me to teaching UGA’s first course on the subject in 2023, and my dissertation—on mail-order catalogs as an early form of “fast fashion”—was basically a long experiment in teaching history through a sustainability lens. I’m now bringing that work to life in my new(ish) role at SMU, which feels deeply rewarding.
What was your experience like starting a sustainable fashion class at your school, and how has it changed over time?
Pursuing a PhD only became a goal after I began rethinking how I was teaching fashion history and how it could be reframed through the lens of sustainability. By the end of 2019, I applied to a PhD program without a clear roadmap, since “fashion history with an emphasis on sustainability” wasn’t exactly a degree path—yet. A few months (and a global pandemic) later, I landed at the University of Georgia.
With no existing sustainable fashion courses at UGA, I got creative with electives and was particularly influenced by a class called “Sustainability and Education,” taken alongside K–12 science and social studies teachers. Ironically, stepping outside fashion helped me reimagine how to teach it.
Designing a sustainable fashion syllabus as part of my comprehensive exams led me to teaching UGA’s first course on the subject in 2023, and my dissertation—on mail-order catalogs as an early form of “fast fashion”—was basically a long experiment in teaching history through a sustainability lens. I’m now bringing that work to life in my new(ish) role at SMU, which feels deeply rewarding.
What was your experience like starting a sustainable fashion class at your school, and how has it changed over time?
Lauren
I’d say overall it was very fulfilling, and perhaps one of the most meaningful things I’ve done since joining the faculty at Columbia College Chicago in 2018.
I developed the course in response to a call for new proposals for Columbia’s general education core. The idea was that this new suite of courses, taught by interdisciplinary faculty, would engage both the Columbia and wider Chicago communities.
In the short while that I’d lived in Chicago (this was in 2019), I had quickly come to appreciate just how robust the sustainable fashion community is there, from practitioners like Jaime Hayes of Production Mode to organizations like Chicago Fair Trade. I decided to develop a course that took students outside of the classroom to engage with this community.
Like you, I took my students to a recycling center (horrifying!) and to sustainable boutiques (inspiring!), and tasked them with developing fashion sustainability initiatives within our own campus community, like clothing swaps and mending circles.
We, of course, did a lot of this work together—co-designing our assignments and providing talk therapy to one another when the going got rough. I think it is notable that we were so intentional about doing this work in community with one another. Why was this so important to you?
I’d say overall it was very fulfilling, and perhaps one of the most meaningful things I’ve done since joining the faculty at Columbia College Chicago in 2018.
I developed the course in response to a call for new proposals for Columbia’s general education core. The idea was that this new suite of courses, taught by interdisciplinary faculty, would engage both the Columbia and wider Chicago communities.
In the short while that I’d lived in Chicago (this was in 2019), I had quickly come to appreciate just how robust the sustainable fashion community is there, from practitioners like Jaime Hayes of Production Mode to organizations like Chicago Fair Trade. I decided to develop a course that took students outside of the classroom to engage with this community.
Like you, I took my students to a recycling center (horrifying!) and to sustainable boutiques (inspiring!), and tasked them with developing fashion sustainability initiatives within our own campus community, like clothing swaps and mending circles.
We, of course, did a lot of this work together—co-designing our assignments and providing talk therapy to one another when the going got rough. I think it is notable that we were so intentional about doing this work in community with one another. Why was this so important to you?
Sara
First, I have to give credit where it’s due! Plenty of fashion educators were laying the groundwork for sustainability in fashion long before I even started teaching.
For example, there’s Kate Fletcher, who I know we both admire. She was publishing on sustainable fashion before I even really knew what the term meant. At Parsons, groundbreaking educators like my friend Timo Rissanen really shaped how I thought about this work. The list of people who did this work before us could go on and on…
That said, as we know, much of this “early” work was happening in elite art schools or in European institutions. It’s only (relatively) more recently that sustainability started embedding itself into larger and more traditional programs in the U.S.
Which brings me to your question about community. As we’ve written in FSJ before, academia is a precarious world in which I believe collaboration is entirely necessary. I never took a sustainability course in school, so I had a serious case of imposter syndrome when I first started teaching it. Plus, I was a recovering fast fashion addict with minimal sewing skills—who was I to talk?
And let’s not forget the mental health side of this work. We’ve both been in that “valley of despair,” wondering if any of it even matters in the grand scheme of things. But knowing that you and many of my other passionate friends and colleagues were out there, trying things, really kept me going. Sometimes it’s just enough just to say, “Yep, I feel kind of hopeless too,” and not feel alone in that.
Which brings us to our book! I know we’re both so excited about this project because it offers exactly what we once needed: examples from innovative educators from diverse fields that show how sustainability can be taught with creativity and care. Can you talk about how it came to life and what you hope it will spark in our growing community?
First, I have to give credit where it’s due! Plenty of fashion educators were laying the groundwork for sustainability in fashion long before I even started teaching.
For example, there’s Kate Fletcher, who I know we both admire. She was publishing on sustainable fashion before I even really knew what the term meant. At Parsons, groundbreaking educators like my friend Timo Rissanen really shaped how I thought about this work. The list of people who did this work before us could go on and on…
That said, as we know, much of this “early” work was happening in elite art schools or in European institutions. It’s only (relatively) more recently that sustainability started embedding itself into larger and more traditional programs in the U.S.
Which brings me to your question about community. As we’ve written in FSJ before, academia is a precarious world in which I believe collaboration is entirely necessary. I never took a sustainability course in school, so I had a serious case of imposter syndrome when I first started teaching it. Plus, I was a recovering fast fashion addict with minimal sewing skills—who was I to talk?
And let’s not forget the mental health side of this work. We’ve both been in that “valley of despair,” wondering if any of it even matters in the grand scheme of things. But knowing that you and many of my other passionate friends and colleagues were out there, trying things, really kept me going. Sometimes it’s just enough just to say, “Yep, I feel kind of hopeless too,” and not feel alone in that.
Which brings us to our book! I know we’re both so excited about this project because it offers exactly what we once needed: examples from innovative educators from diverse fields that show how sustainability can be taught with creativity and care. Can you talk about how it came to life and what you hope it will spark in our growing community?
Lauren
Like you, I felt a bit of imposter syndrome when I began teaching my sustainability course, and while there were so many wonderful resources (books, films, podcasts, etc.) to share with students, there wasn’t really anyone out there talking about how to mobilize these ideas in the classroom outside of design techniques. I wasn’t content to just review sustainability concepts; I wanted to give my students meaningful tools to “do” fashion sustainability in their own lives. I also wanted to create spaces for them to feel a little less alone and a little more empowered.
In our work, we discussed how helpful it would be to develop some kind of fashion sustainability network to share ideas with other educators. We first tested this idea at the “De-Fashioning Education” symposium at the University of the Arts, Berlin in 2023. I think this workshop really was the catalyst for us to develop the book proposal with Bloomsbury.
We put out a CFP and received over 100 submissions (wonderful, but overwhelming!) that we whittled down to 60 concise chapters. It’s only just barely underway, but I’m so proud of the global reach of the volume and the clever and critical ways our contributors approach the subject of fashion sustainability.
In terms of what I hope the book will spark in our community, most simply I just hope that it makes fashion sustainability attainable and actionable. If I’m thinking more ambitiously and expansively, I hope it will effect meaningful, systemic change in fashion education.
What about you? I’d also love to hear about how you’re doing right now. Is this project helping to pull you out of the valley of despair?
In our work, we discussed how helpful it would be to develop some kind of fashion sustainability network to share ideas with other educators. We first tested this idea at the “De-Fashioning Education” symposium at the University of the Arts, Berlin in 2023. I think this workshop really was the catalyst for us to develop the book proposal with Bloomsbury.
We put out a CFP and received over 100 submissions (wonderful, but overwhelming!) that we whittled down to 60 concise chapters. It’s only just barely underway, but I’m so proud of the global reach of the volume and the clever and critical ways our contributors approach the subject of fashion sustainability.
In terms of what I hope the book will spark in our community, most simply I just hope that it makes fashion sustainability attainable and actionable. If I’m thinking more ambitiously and expansively, I hope it will effect meaningful, systemic change in fashion education.
What about you? I’d also love to hear about how you’re doing right now. Is this project helping to pull you out of the valley of despair?
Sara
To be honest, I think I’ve already dipped in and out of the “valley of despair” a few times during this conversation—but that’s just how I am!
But there is some real value in reflecting with you. A decade ago, I knew very little about sustainability, and now I’ve shared what I’ve learned with hundreds of students. That’s got to count for something, right? Even getting one student to pause before adding something to their Shein cart feels like a small win.
Our book project has honestly helped me stay optimistic, in big part because it’s kept me connected to you and to others who actually want to share, collaborate, and connect on a personal level. Unfortunately, that can be a bit rare in academia, where things can feel siloed and competitive.
So to bring it full circle, what do you think has really shifted since our Parsons days? Or, if you could time travel, what advice would you give your past self?
To be honest, I think I’ve already dipped in and out of the “valley of despair” a few times during this conversation—but that’s just how I am!
But there is some real value in reflecting with you. A decade ago, I knew very little about sustainability, and now I’ve shared what I’ve learned with hundreds of students. That’s got to count for something, right? Even getting one student to pause before adding something to their Shein cart feels like a small win.
Our book project has honestly helped me stay optimistic, in big part because it’s kept me connected to you and to others who actually want to share, collaborate, and connect on a personal level. Unfortunately, that can be a bit rare in academia, where things can feel siloed and competitive.
So to bring it full circle, what do you think has really shifted since our Parsons days? Or, if you could time travel, what advice would you give your past self?
Lauren
I think the biggest shift for me is that I now have a very, very strong desire for my work (teaching and research) to be more grounded. There was a long period where I associated rigor and value with inaccessible theory and academic jargon, but like you I’ve increasingly come to appreciate the small wins—such as hearing that a student had a conversation with a family member about their Amazon.com dependency, or that they are now reading fabric composition labels before making a purchase. I can only hope that these small behavior changes and shifts in perspective will reverberate outward into their work as fashion professionals.
I realize I started this dialogue so it’s only appropriate that you end it! Any final, final words for our community?
I think the biggest shift for me is that I now have a very, very strong desire for my work (teaching and research) to be more grounded. There was a long period where I associated rigor and value with inaccessible theory and academic jargon, but like you I’ve increasingly come to appreciate the small wins—such as hearing that a student had a conversation with a family member about their Amazon.com dependency, or that they are now reading fabric composition labels before making a purchase. I can only hope that these small behavior changes and shifts in perspective will reverberate outward into their work as fashion professionals.
I realize I started this dialogue so it’s only appropriate that you end it! Any final, final words for our community?
Sara
I’m not sure my own words can fully capture what I want to express here, so I’ll just end with a quote from the Earth Logic Research Plan that continues to guide my work. In it, Kate Fletcher and Mathilda Tham write: “The area of work that matters most is the one which is actionable by you, in your context, today. Time is short. Every decision counts. It is incumbent upon all of us to take action within the conditions of our own lives, to find ways to bring a sense of urgency and responsibility into our daily decision-making processes.” [1]
I’m not sure my own words can fully capture what I want to express here, so I’ll just end with a quote from the Earth Logic Research Plan that continues to guide my work. In it, Kate Fletcher and Mathilda Tham write: “The area of work that matters most is the one which is actionable by you, in your context, today. Time is short. Every decision counts. It is incumbent upon all of us to take action within the conditions of our own lives, to find ways to bring a sense of urgency and responsibility into our daily decision-making processes.” [1]
Notes: Fashion Sustainability, Then and Now
[1] Kate Fletcher and Mathilda Tham, Earth Logic Action Research Plan (2019), 25.
Issue 15 ︎︎︎
Fashion & Southeast Asia
Issue 14 ︎︎︎
Barbie
Issue 13 ︎︎︎ Fashion & Politics
Issue 13 ︎︎︎ Fashion & Politics