China's Landfills Brim with Textile Waste as Fast Fashion Reigns

A worker feeds discarded textiles to a shredding machine at the Wenzhou Tiancheng Textile Company in eastern China's Zhejiang province on March 20, 2024. (AP Photo/Ng Han Guan)
A worker feeds discarded textiles to a shredding machine at the Wenzhou Tiancheng Textile Company in eastern China's Zhejiang province on March 20, 2024. (AP Photo/Ng Han Guan)
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China's Landfills Brim with Textile Waste as Fast Fashion Reigns

A worker feeds discarded textiles to a shredding machine at the Wenzhou Tiancheng Textile Company in eastern China's Zhejiang province on March 20, 2024. (AP Photo/Ng Han Guan)
A worker feeds discarded textiles to a shredding machine at the Wenzhou Tiancheng Textile Company in eastern China's Zhejiang province on March 20, 2024. (AP Photo/Ng Han Guan)

At a factory in Zhejiang province on China’s eastern coast, two mounds of discarded cotton clothing and bed linens, loosely separated into dark and light colors, pile up on a workroom floor. Jacket sleeves, collars and brand labels protrude from the stacks as workers feed the garments into shredding machines.
It’s the first stage of a new life for the textiles, part of a recycling effort at the Wenzhou Tiancheng Textile Company, one of the largest cotton recycling plants in China, The Associated Press reported.
Textile waste is an urgent global problem, with only 12% recycled worldwide, according to fashion sustainability nonprofit Ellen MacArthur Foundation. Even less — only 1% — are castoff clothes recycled into new garments; the majority is used for low-value items like insulation or mattress stuffing.
Nowhere is the problem more pressing than in China, the world’s largest textile producer and consumer, where more than 26 million tons of clothes are thrown away each year, according to government statistics. Most of it ends up in landfills.
And factories like this one are barely making a dent in a country whose clothing industry is dominated by “fast fashion” — cheap clothes made from unrecyclable synthetics, not cotton. Produced from petrochemicals that contribute to climate change, air and water pollution, synthetics account for 70% of domestic clothing sales in China.
China's footprint is worldwide: E-commerce juggernaut brands Shein and Temu make the country one of the world’s largest producers of cheap fashion, selling in more than 150 countries.
To achieve a game-changing impact, what fashion expert Shaway Yeh calls “circular sustainability” is needed among major Chinese clothing brands so waste is avoided entirely.
“You need to start it from recyclable fibers and then all these waste textiles will be put into use again,” she said.
But that is an elusive goal: Only about 20% of China’s textiles are recycled, according to the Chinese government — and almost all of that is cotton.
Chinese cotton is not without a taint of its own, said Claudia Bennett of the nonprofit Human Rights Foundation. Much of it comes from forced labor in Xinjiang province by the country's ethnic Uyghur minority.
"One-in-five cotton garments globally is linked to Uyghur forced labor,” Bennett said.
In May, the US blocked imports from 26 Chinese cotton traders and warehouses to avoid goods made with Uyghur forced labor. But because the supply chain is so sketchy, Uyghur cotton is used in garments produced in other countries that don't bear the “made-in-China” label, Bennett said.
“Many, many, many clothing brands are linked to Uyghur forced labor through the cotton," she said. They "hide behind the lack of transparency in the supply chain.”
While China is a global leader in the production of electric cars and electric-powered public transit and has set a goal of achieving carbon neutrality by 2060, its efforts in promoting fashion sustainability and recycling textiles have taken a back seat.
According to a report this year from independent fashion watchdog Remake assessing major clothing companies on their environmental, human rights and equitability practices, there's little accountability among the best-known brands.
The group gave Shein, whose online marketplace groups about 6,000 Chinese clothing factories under its label, just 6 out of a possible 150 points. Temu scored zero.
Also getting zero were US label SKIMS, co-founded by Kim Kardashian, and low-price brand Fashion Nova. US retailer Everlane was the highest-scorer at 40 points, with only half of those for sustainability practices.
China’s domestic policy doesn’t help.
Cotton recycled from used clothing is banned from being used to make new garments inside China. This rule was initially aimed at stamping out fly-by-night Chinese operations recycling dirty or otherwise contaminated material.
But now it means the huge spools of tightly woven rope-like cotton yarn produced at the Wenzhou Tiancheng factory from used clothing can only be sold for export, mostly to Europe.
Making matters worse, many Chinese consumers are unwilling to buy used items anyway, something the Wenzhou factory sales director, Kowen Tang, attributes to increasing household incomes.
“They want to buy new clothes, the new stuff,” he said of the stigma associated with buying used.
Still, among younger Chinese, a growing awareness of sustainability has contributed to the emergence of fledgling “remade” clothing businesses.
Thirty-year-old designer Da Bao founded Times Remake in 2019, a Shanghai-based brand that takes secondhand clothes and refashions them into new garments. At the company's work room in Shanghai, tailors work with secondhand denims and sweatshirts, stitching them into funky new fashions.
The venture, which began with Da Bao and his father-in-law posting their one-off designs online, now has a flagship store in Shanghai’s trendy Jing’an District that stocks their remade garments alongside vintage items, such as Levi’s and Carhartt jackets.
The designs are “a combination of the past style and current fashion aesthetic to create something unique,” Bao said.
Zhang Na has a fashion label, Reclothing Bank, that sells clothes, bags and other accessories made from materials such as plastic bottles, fishing nets and flour sacks.
The items' labels have QR codes that show their composition, how they were made and the provenance of the materials. Zhang draws on well-established production methods, such as textile fibers made from pineapple leaf, a centuries-old tradition originating in the Philippines.
“We can basically develop thousands of new fabrics and new materials,” she said.
Reclothing Bank began in 2010 to give “new life to old things,” Zhang said of her store in a historic Shanghai alley with a mix of Western and Chinese architecture. A large used clothes deposit box sat outside the entrance.
“Old items actually carry a lot of people’s memories and emotions,” she said.
Zhang said she has seen sustainability consciousness grow since she opened her store, with core customers in their 20s and 30s.
Bao Yang, a college student who dropped by the store on a visit to Shanghai, said she was surprised at the feel of the clothes.
“I think it’s amazing, because when I first entered the door, I heard that many of the clothes were actually made of shells or corn (husks), but when I touched the clothes in detail, I had absolutely no idea that they would have this very comfortable feel,” she said.
Still, she conceded that buying sustainable clothing is a hard sell. “People of my age are more addicted to fast fashion, or they do not think about the sustainability of clothes," she said.
Recycled garments sold at stores like Reclothing Bank have a much higher price tag than fast-fashion brands due to their costly production methods.
And therein lies the real problem, said Sheng Lu, professor of fashion and apparel studies at the University of Delaware.
“Studies repeatedly show consumers are not willing to pay higher for clothing made from recycled materials, and instead they actually expect a lower price because they see such clothing as made of secondhand stuff,” he said.
With higher costs in acquiring, sorting and processing used garments, he doesn't see sustainable fashion succeeding on a wide scale in China, where clothes are so cheap to make.
“Companies do not have the financial incentive,” he said.
For real change there needs to be “more clear signals from the very top," he added, referring to government targets like the ones that propelled China's EV industry.
Still, in China "government can be a friend to any sector,” Lu said, so if China's communist leaders see economic potential, it could trigger a policy shift that drives new investment in sustainable fashion.
But for now, the plastic-wrapped cones of tightly-wound cotton being loaded onto trucks outside the Wenzhou Tiancheng factory were all headed to overseas markets, far from where their recycling journey began.
“Fast fashion definitely is not out of fashion” in China, Lu said.



Japan's Traditional Kimonos Are Being Repurposed in Creative Ways

Designer Tomoko Ohkata, left, and her assistant Koki Unami hold Ohkata's designs made from old kimono, in Tokyo, on Jan. 15, 2026. (AP Photo/Yuri Kageyama)
Designer Tomoko Ohkata, left, and her assistant Koki Unami hold Ohkata's designs made from old kimono, in Tokyo, on Jan. 15, 2026. (AP Photo/Yuri Kageyama)
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Japan's Traditional Kimonos Are Being Repurposed in Creative Ways

Designer Tomoko Ohkata, left, and her assistant Koki Unami hold Ohkata's designs made from old kimono, in Tokyo, on Jan. 15, 2026. (AP Photo/Yuri Kageyama)
Designer Tomoko Ohkata, left, and her assistant Koki Unami hold Ohkata's designs made from old kimono, in Tokyo, on Jan. 15, 2026. (AP Photo/Yuri Kageyama)

The kimono, that elaborate, delicate wrap-around garment worn by geisha and samurai from centuries back, is getting a vibrant remake, appreciated these days for a virtue that’s more relevant than ever: sustainability.

A genuine silk kimono, which literally means “worn thing,” lasts a hundred years or more. In a Japanese family, it’s handed down over generations like heirloom jewelry, artworks and military medals.

It never goes out of style.

The design of the kimono and accompanying “obi” sash has remained basically the same since the 17th century Edo period depicted in Akira Kurosawa samurai movies.

But today, some people are taking a different creative approach, refashioning the traditional kimono, and also taking apart and resewing them as jackets, dresses and pants.

“I noticed that a lot of beautiful kimono is just sleeping in people’s closets. That’s such a waste,” said Mari Kubo, who heads a kimono-remake business called K’Forward, pronounced “K dash forward.”

Hers is among a recent surge in such services, which also turn old kimono into tote bags and dolls.

The most popular among Kubo’s products are “tomesode,” a type of formal kimono that is black with colorful, embroidered flowers, birds or foliage at the bottom, The Associated Press reported.

She also creates matching sets, or what she calls “set-ups.” A tomesode is turned into a jacket with its long, flowing sleeves intact, and its intricate patterns placed at the center in the back. She then takes a kimono with a matching pattern to create a skirt or pants to go with the top. Sometimes, an obi is used at the collar to add a pop of color.

Kubo said many of her customers are young people who want to enjoy a kimono without the fuss.

A remade kimono at K’Forward can cost as much as 160,000 yen ($1,000) for a “furisode,” a colorful kimono with long sleeves meant for young unmarried women, while a black tomesode goes for about 25,000 yen ($160).

What Tomoko Ohkata loves most about the products she designs using old kimonos is that she doesn’t have to live with a guilty conscience, and instead feels she is helping solve an ecological problem.

“I feel the answer was right there, being handed down from our ancestors,” she said.

Recycling venues in Japan get thousands of old kimonos a day as people find them stashed away in closets by parents and grandparents. These days, Japanese generally wear kimonos just for special occasions like weddings. Many women prefer to wear a Western-style white wedding dress rather than the kimono, or they wear both.

Many of Ohkata’s clientele are people who have found a kimono at home and want to give it new life. They care about the story behind the kimono, she added.

Her small store in downtown Tokyo displays various dolls, including a figure of an emperor paired with his wife, who are traditionally brought out for display in Japanese homes for the Girls’ Day festival every March 3. Her dolls, however, are exquisitely dressed in recycled kimonos, tailored in tiny sizes to fit the dolls. They sell for 245,000 yen ($1,600) a pair.

The original old-style kimono is also getting rediscovered.

“Unlike the dress, you can arrange it,” says Nao Shimizu, who heads a school in Japan’s ancient capital of Kyoto that teaches people how to wear a kimono and how to carry oneself while wearing it.

“In half a year, you can learn how to do it all by yourself,” she said, briskly demonstrating several ways to tie the obi to express different moods, from playful to understated.

Besides its durability, said Shimizu, that versatility also makes the kimono sustainable.

Younger Japanese are taking a more relaxed view, wearing a kimono with boots, for instance, she laughed. Traditionally, kimono is worn with sandals called “zori.”

Although it requires some skill to put on a kimono in the traditional way, one can take lessons from teachers like Shimizu, like learning a musical instrument. Professional help is also available at beauty parlors, hotels and some shops.

Most Japanese might wear a kimono just a few times in their lives. But wearing one is a memorable experience.

Sumie Kaneko, a singer who plays the traditional Japanese instruments koto and shamisen, often performs wearing flashy dresses made of recycled kimonos. The idea of sustainability is deeply rooted in Japanese culture, she says, noting that the ivory and animal hide used in her musical instruments are now hard to obtain.

She calls it “the recycling of life.”

“The performer breathes new life into them,” says the New York-based Kaneko.
“In the same way, a past moment — and those patterns and colors that were once loved — can come back to life.”


Scottish Fashion Seeks New Talent for Homespun Crafts 

Members of staff work at the Alex Begg mill in Ayr, southwest Scotland, on January 15, 2026. (AFP)
Members of staff work at the Alex Begg mill in Ayr, southwest Scotland, on January 15, 2026. (AFP)
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Scottish Fashion Seeks New Talent for Homespun Crafts 

Members of staff work at the Alex Begg mill in Ayr, southwest Scotland, on January 15, 2026. (AFP)
Members of staff work at the Alex Begg mill in Ayr, southwest Scotland, on January 15, 2026. (AFP)

Far from the glamor of fashion weeks in Paris, Milan and London, a nondescript cashmere mill on Scotland's western coast that supplies luxury labels hopes local training programs can attract new talent.

"It's a dying trade," 61-year-old Maria Wade said of her job as a "greasy mender" at Alex Begg, a semi-rural mill that has been based in Ayr in southwest Scotland for more than a century.

The weaving mill supplies cashmere to prestigious fashion brands, which cannot be named for confidentiality reasons, as well as its own luxury label, Begg x Co.

"You don't get many people mending raw cashmere," said Wade, whose role is to meticulously inspect and darn any defects in the fabric by hand, before it is washed, cut and shipped around the world.

Famed for its luxury tweeds, wools and cashmeres, Scotland's textile industry has seen a sharp decline in recent decades as high manufacturing costs struggle to compete with cheap production abroad, and an ageing workforce retires, taking traditional manufacturing skills with them.

When technical transformation director Lorna Dempsey joined Alex Begg more than 25 years ago, the average age was "quite old", she told AFP, "about 50-plus".

Since then, the company has made a "conscious effort to try and recruit younger people" and brought the average age down to around 40.

It's no easy task in the run-down former mining town, with those interested in fashion careers looking to places such as Glasgow, around an hour's drive away, or even further afield.

"We don't have a lot of skills within the Ayrshire area, so it's very difficult for us to try and find skilled staff," said Dempsey.

The rise of fast fashion has made it harder to find young people with manufacturing know-how.

"A lot of our operations are definitely a skill from the past," said Dempsey, adding that people don't learn how to "darn their socks anymore."

- 'On my doorstep' -

The mill's partnership with the King's Foundation -- a charity founded by King Charles III and headquartered in the nearby Dumfries House estate -- has helped turn things around.

The foundation runs programs aimed at addressing "a skills gap within the UK textile industry".

Trainees learn about production lines, supply chains, working with different materials and sustainable design -- skills that employers say are often not covered in fashion school.

They are then given work experience at Scottish mills such as Alex Begg, and some like Emma Hyslop manage to secure a job.

Sat behind a fringing machine at the mill, Hyslop, 28, deftly ran a dark cashmere fabric destined for a Spanish luxury brand through its frame, twisting the ends of the cloth into fringes.

After getting a fashion design diploma at a Glasgow college, Hyslop did a six-week course with the King's Foundation, through which she discovered the luxury mill in her backyard.

"I had no idea about the place beforehand, and it's on my doorstep," said Hyslop, from south Ayrshire.

"We're actually quite a hidden gem," said Dempsey.

"So it's our job, our legacy, to keep bringing people through our manufacturing businesses, and keep bringing the skills alive again."

- Heritage skills -

The mill currently has four apprentices and is hoping to add more this year.

Dempsey also gives talks to local primary school children with the King's Foundation.

It is an issue close to the king's heart, with the British monarch attending Thursday's opening of London Fashion Week and meeting apprentices "supporting heritage skills and sustainability" -- including students on King's Foundation programs.

Nicole Christie founded her own sustainable women's luxury brand, Ellipsis, after completing a textile program at Dumfries House in 2020.

Entering luxury fashion in Scotland is "difficult", said Christie, with other major brands usually based in London or other European cities.

"At one point, leaving university, I did think that I would have to move down south," said Christie, who instead decided to build her brand in Glasgow.

"I'm really proud that I'm doing it here, and I really hope one day that I'll actually be able to give other people opportunities."


London Fashion Week Opens with Tribute to One of Its Greats

London Fashion Week will pay tribute to iconic designer Paul Costelloe who died in November, and had been a stalwart of the British captial's catwalks since the show was launched in 1984. Niklas HALLE'N / AFP/File
London Fashion Week will pay tribute to iconic designer Paul Costelloe who died in November, and had been a stalwart of the British captial's catwalks since the show was launched in 1984. Niklas HALLE'N / AFP/File
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London Fashion Week Opens with Tribute to One of Its Greats

London Fashion Week will pay tribute to iconic designer Paul Costelloe who died in November, and had been a stalwart of the British captial's catwalks since the show was launched in 1984. Niklas HALLE'N / AFP/File
London Fashion Week will pay tribute to iconic designer Paul Costelloe who died in November, and had been a stalwart of the British captial's catwalks since the show was launched in 1984. Niklas HALLE'N / AFP/File

London Fashion Week, better known for nurturing new talent than for its big-name shows, kicks off on Thursday with a tribute to one of its stalwarts Paul Costelloe.

The Irish-American designer, who died aged 80 last November, was a regular fixture on the opening day of the British capital's fashion week since the inception of the show in 1984, AFP said.

Over four decades, his romantic, sartorial catwalks remained a constant: witness to the rise and fall of London Fashion Week (LFW) which has seen the departure of big fashion names to its counterparts in Milan, Paris and New York in recent years.

His son William Costelloe is now the creative director of the brand, which wrote on social media ahead of its LFW Autumn/Winter 2026 opening show: "A new season. A powerful moment. A legacy moving forward."

Tolu Coker, a British-Nigerian designer who launched her brand in 2018, will also show on Thursday her elegant, mainly-unisex designs inspired by diverse identities.

Notable names including Harris Reed and Richard Quinn will return to the catwalk in London, with Burberry closing the week in its usual fashion on Monday evening.

Other labels will bring a royal flavor to the runway, with brands worn by Princess Catherine including Emilia Wickstead, Edeline Lee and Erdem putting on shows.

However, there will be no show from the breakout Northern Irish designer Jonathan Anderson, who was one of the most eagerly awaited at London Fashion Week in recent seasons.

The 41-year-old took over at Dior last June, leaving him little time for his own brand, JW Anderson, which he founded in 2008.

For several years, London has been losing ground to its star-studded rivals in Paris and Milan, but it has clung onto its role as a breeding ground for young talent.

The British Fashion Council's NewGen initiative provides funding for emerging talent, with several up-and-coming designers finding their stride at LFW through the incubator.

'Great support'

Designers like Simone Rocha, Tolu Coker and Roksanda have become fashion week mainstays after making their debut on the NewGen catwalk.

Among the recent breakouts is Joshua Ewusie, a 27-year-old British creator born to Ghanaian parents who is due to put on his second fashion week show with his brand "E.W.Usie".

The young designer was supported by the King's Foundation, a charity founded by King Charles III, in partnership with Chanel, which gave him a studio space shortly after he graduated from the prestigious Central Saint Martins school.

His hometown London, which boasts several notable fashion schools, provides "great support for young designers," Ewusie told AFP ahead of his LFW presentation on Sunday.

"There's so many opportunities, I think, that London gives to help young brands start," he added.

His new collection is inspired by the 1980s, when his mother moved to London, says the designer. It's all about culture and identity, with leather as the star material.

French designer Pauline Dujancourt, known for her work with knitwear, also chose to stick with London Fashion Week after her studies at Paris's Ecole Duperre and Central Saint Martins in London.

"As much as Paris Fashion Week is incredible and I'm dreaming to be part of it one day, maybe there's a bit more room for younger brands in London at the start," said the 31-year-old designer, who will show her collection on Sunday.

"I think people have come to London Fashion Week expecting to see a bit of newness and younger generations as opposed to Paris and Milan, where it's more like established houses."