top of page

The COVID-19 pandemic highlighted how art -- specifically fashion -- is a true reflection of our values and morals as consumers in a trillion-dollar industry. This piece investigates the pandemic’s disruption and ongoing influence on the fashion industry, as fashion’s paradigm shift represents our changing values towards more equitable, sustainable, and purpose-driven consumption. The pandemic disrupted the fashion industry by accelerating social and environmental conversations into global initiatives, responding to accelerated changes in consumer priorities. The significance of self-expression was ever-so-obvious during this unprecedented time; fashion is far more than just the simple clothing choices when we dress ourselves and shop retail/online channels. The attitudes we express are translated into social movements and trends, transcribed into consumable aesthetics. Fashion allows us to further express these values and political/social/environmental alliances.

How does art reflect our world?

Fashion with Mask

How the Coronavirus Gave Fashion the Total Makeover it so Desperately Needed

 

When my freshman year at the University of Southern California concluded, I moved back home and worked at a glitzy boutique in an affluent California beach town for the sake of nominal summer income. My interests had far exceeded the job requirement: I had taken an aesthetics and sociology course in which I explored how streetwear trends – which were just gaining mainstream popularity – had exemplified an inequitable commercialization of lower socioeconomic subcultures. Selling $500 distressed sneakers to women who likened empty grocery store parking lots in the neighborhood (ranked twenty-seventh in a list of the nation’s most expensive zip codes) to Compton, California proved what I already knew. My summer at the boutique exacerbated my frustration in the industry’s total lack of environmental concern: stock shipments not only contained hundreds of pieces individually wrapped in plastic, but were also outsourced from manufacturers in developing countries, infamous for enslavement and evading environmental regulations. Expressing my concern to the boutique owners only confirmed the worst: all players in fashion were stuck in a perpetual loop of undercutting and abuse just to stay in the game. If I wanted to address the boutique’s poor environmental sustainability, a sales associate with only one year of experience would have to confront a well- established trillion-dollar industry.

​

My frustration in the conscious ignorance of the fashion industry was soon buried under buttery satin, flouncing chiffon, and glamorous sequins. Generous wholesale discounts and ample commissions soon supplied my closet with oversaturated hues and jaunty florals. As summer turned to fall, I twirled into thirty-minute discussion sections in ankle-length, rainbow tie-dye silk dresses. Looking back at pictures from the first semester of my sophomore year feels like looking at postcards from another world. The closing show of my playful parade arrived that infamous second week of March: I bought a pair of sweatpants for the first time in my life, and the hottest, most desired accessory in the world was a N-95 mask. First responders and medical staffers turned to trash bags, snorkel masks, and swim goggles as makeshift P.P.E.

​

As weeks turned into months, the glitzy boutique I worked at shuttered its doors. H&M closed a hundred and seventy stores after sales fell by fifty-seven percent. New York designer Christian Siriano quickly converted his midtown atelier into a mask-making factory. By May that year, clothing sales dropped sixty-three per cent compared to 2019. The Neiman Marcus Group, J. Crew, and JCPenney, were among the seventeen major retailers that filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy during the first year of the pandemic. The McKinsey Group projected that global fashion industry profit would fall ninety-three percent by the end of 2020. I quietly closed my closet doors on my glittery boots and campy maxi dresses; the balled up 3XL tees from the back of my bottom drawer became my uniform. My ecstatic, effulgent expression of style was silenced under box flaps as I Zoomed the remainder of the spring semester from under my covers.

​

We move through the world in our clothes. Fashion historian Anne Hollander explains, “when you are dressed in any particular way at all, you are revealed rather than hidden.” Forms of self-expression serve as a creative outlet for holistic healing, as it opens the opportunity for expression not otherwise felt and thus not conveyed through everyday words. So when the world is struck by a pandemic and thrown into lockdown, of course our most notorious form of self- expression will reflect such an unprecedented shift in societal needs, attitudes, and values. Changed priorities toward personal time, mental health, and flexibility has forty-one percent of Americans swapping jobs in what is called the Great Resignation. Though a change of scenery can help us cope, there’s no escaping the fact that our survival depends on changing the systems in place.

Though I roll my eyes to the phrase “unprecedented times,” the pandemic did present us with a novel opportunity to step back and reevaluate the ways in which we stomp our streets – and the boots we lace up to do so. The tragic loss of life and dramatic halt of ‘normal’ gave us the time and six-foot-space to confront our values: who and what was really vital to our physical and emotional survival versus what we could do without. When we readjusted our attitudes and outlook on life, what were once small absurdities in our everyday lives broke surface tension, sending out transformative waves in the industries from which we consume. The pandemic has forced fashion to step up to the reformed values by which consumers and producers measure their actions, pressing a hard reset on the industry’s value chain. As society navigates the unprecedented waves of the COVID-19 pandemic, fashion aesthetics are drastically changing: the industry is experiencing the acceleration of the inevitable. Once-quiet calls for industry reform have totally disrupted fashion, as the industry’s hard reset has allowed for a paradigm shift that meets consumer demands for digitalization, sustainability, equity, and diversity.

​

The global pandemic’s shutdown of offline, in-person retail channels turbocharged the digitization of the fashion industry. No longer able to strike downtown concrete in metallic heels in search of a tipsy thrill, my social bubble spent our Friday nights gathered around glasses of wine, sharing the thousands of dollars our digital shopping carts had accumulated over the week. Working from home – and staying home – drove an exponential increase in non-work screen time, accelerating the inevitable rise of the digital marketplace. American e-commerce profits increased forty-four percent by the end of 2020. Even thirteen percent of European consumers (who have historically neglected digital channels), browsed online retailers for the first time. Consumers around the world increasingly embraced digital solutions for shopping, entertainment, and communication, as brands and retailers scaled up and strengthened their digital capabilities overnight. Industry players adapted accordingly by investing resources otherwise spent on brick-and-mortar experiences towards optimizing digital customer journeys, pioneering new ways of digital engagement and outreach.

​

Social media platforms drove further momentum in the digital marketplace, delivering solutions for both big corporations and small independent labels. For instance, the perfectly- timed 2020 introduction of Instragram's shopping feature allowed small boutiques to re-enter the pandemic-decimated market (which only large-capital brands survived), further democratizing the fashion industry. Across the globe, fashion month went virtual for the first time ever, allowing both high-profile icons and normal, everyday consumers to witness the newest in fashion. The digitization of fashion was widespread and refreshingly inclusive: an invitation to a runway show was not required for one to witness the industry's paradigm shift. Furthermore, digital creators became the faces for a plethora of brands, utilizing skills in digital content creation and advertising when the pandemic shut down traditional marketing services. Digital creators were paramount to industry survival throughout the early months of the pandemic and are vital agents in the fashion to this day: not only they spearhead branch outreach, but also serve as a conduit for communication between consumers and designers. Digital creators represent the diverse range of new consumer values that arose during the pandemic, and further, help translate these changes into action through brand promotion and support of various fashion trends. Their role in fashion industry survival has not gone unchecked: for the first time in history, digital creators received invitations to the 2021 Vogue Met Gala. As industry experts Amed et al. explain, social distancing and lockdown waves bolstered digitization as an “urgent priority across the industry’s value chain,” as consumer demands for digital channels remain even as we slowly emerge from the crisis.

​

Months of being cooped up indoors trudged on until summer appeared on the horizon. I no longer wiped down my groceries with a Lysol wipe, but felt criminal when elbow-bumps broke six-foot bubbles. The promise of a vaccine started making headlines, and California’s restaurants had just reopened socially-distanced outdoor dining in anticipation of the warm weather. I started talking with my parents about moving back home to volunteer at my city’s COVID testing site and work part-time at the boutique – which had just reopened after barely scraping by on their ad-hoc online storefront. Along with the majority of society, I was optimistic about a new renaissance of life and ‘getting out there’ again. It’s no secret that our wardrobe decisions would reflect this new optimism. As behavioral psychologist Carolyn Mair explains, “throughout the pandemic, fashion trends and consumer behaviors [are] proof of the psychological effects of this [hopefully] once-in-a-lifetime event.” When I wasn’t studying for my first-ever-online spring finals, I was scrolling through pages of summer dresses and bikinis in the hope that my family would make our yearly visit out to my Italian grandparents. Sure, I had grown accustomed to the oversized, marshmallow-y hug of my 3XL tees... but, God, did I want to embrace my loved ones tighter than ever before, without the paralyzing worry of infectious disease. I craved a return to life, brighter and more vibrant than we’d known it.

​

The desire to make up for lost time led trend forecasters to coin the term, revenge fashion, “a kind of shopping experience that looks to avenge the time and outfits lost to a series of lockdowns.” Summer 2020 marked the beginning of the joyful dressing and escapism that dominated fashion even into the following year. However, when we left behind our tireless days of wearing the same old sweats at the same old desk, our summer shopping habits weren’t greeted by the fashion industry we used to know. By the time society entered the quasi-new- normal summer had promised, the fashion industry was in the midst of a complete shift in paradigm. Not only had the pandemic’s enhancement of the digital world accelerated online retail, but it allowed changing consumer values to gain traction as new forms of expression reached larger audiences at an accelerated rate. The resulting “quarantine of consumption” hastened shifts in consumer values and expectations, the most prominent being antipathy toward a lack of industry diversity and calls for purpose-driven, environmentally-sustainable action. By the time the world ‘celebrated’ the one-year anniversary of our tango with the coronavirus, the fashion industry had entirely reinvented itself, finally providing consumers with an ethical channel to embrace post-quarantine fashion.

​

The pandemic accelerated industry recognition of consumer values around sustainability, intensifying discussions around materialism, over-consumption, and irresponsible business practices. This focus on sustainability is especially prominent among Gen-Z and Millennial consumers, whose environmental concerns were well-established before the pandemic. Brands have consequently reoriented their missions and business models to address consumer outcry against toxic manufacturing processes and heightened expectations for sustainable, non- performative action. A 2020 McKinsey survey highlights a fifteen percent increase of American and European consumers who expect to shop with a greater ecologically and socially sustainable conscience in 2021. Furthermore, the 2021 Resale Report of thredUP (an online consignment and thrift store) states that more than thirty-three million people bought secondhand clothing for the first time during the pandemic; seventy-six percent of those consumers plan to increase their spending on resale and thrifting within the next five years. According to this report, the secondhand market will be valued at seventy-seven billion dollars by 2025 – more than double its current value.

​

While it’s important to consider that presenting such astounding data is in thredUP’s financial interest, the boom of the resale market is further demonstrated by the various brands who have adopted secondhand strategies to address consumer outcry over unsustainable business models. As the lockdown phases of the pandemic increased digital downtime, consumers had greater access to both time and channels to shop more purposefully and sustainably. And for the first time ever, fashion’s hard reset enabled industry players to realign their mission to both outstanding and new consumer values. Last October, Levi’s jeans launched Levi’s SecondHand, allowing customers to purchase secondhand products online and exchange worn denim for store credit. To further extend the lifespan of its products, the brand launched the Levi’s Tailor Shop, allowing customers to “patch up and perfect” their jeans with an in-store tailor, for a minimal cost. The company reports that its new sustainable narrative will reduce approximately eighty percent of the carbon dioxide emissions and seven hundred grams of waste, as compared to purchasing a new pair of Levi’s jeans. Growing antipathy around unsustainable business practices, such as unpaid order cancellations of overstock garments, has forced many global retailers to step back and address wasteful deficits in their manufacturing and distribution models. Beyond Levi’s, big industry players who faced consumer backlash have pioneered solutions that ameliorate overstock and elongate product lifecycles, accelerating industry recognition of sustainability trends.

​

Across all scales, progress requires vulnerability and transparency. Fashion has historically been an industry built on mystery, intrinsically rebelling against any sort of set expectations or parameters; it counters industry principles of creative independence. However, this concept itself exacerbates exclusion within the industry’s long-established hierarchy. The pandemic’s disruption of our everyday lives gave us a new perspective in which to evaluate the absurdities and flaws of social systems already in place. As we confronted these systemic issues, we also confronted our wardrobe foundations and the foundations of the Eurocentric industry that designs them.

​

The Black Lives Matter movement of summer 2020 confronted the fashion industry’s discriminatory practices, subverting historically-established aesthetics and power chains. However, consumer demands for equitable and inclusive initiatives were met with performative activism, as industries rushed to appear supportive throughout brands’ value chains. Industry players who had been virtually invisible were suddenly thrust into national spotlight, as the BLM movement urged consumer support of Black-owned businesses. Though fashion did acknowledge its deeply rooted racial disparities, such sudden performative activism didn’t support Black designers with real pipelines for success. Black In Fashion Council co-founder Lindsay People Wagner explains: “Without dedicated mentors showing [Black designers] how to grow and maintain longevity in such a fickle industry, many of those designers are being set up to fail.” However, as #BlackLivesMatter faded from trending pages, several industry beacons continued to support the movement and set precedents for other players to follow, beyond politically charged T-shirts and public statements of solidarity.

2021’s arrival meant new projects for the 2022 season: new designs that translate new statements; new teams to sew, reproduce, and photograph new fashion; new magazine covers featuring new models who would strut down runways in new shows, which were expected to occur in-person after taking a digital form in the previous year. The clean slate of the upcoming season allowed several initiatives to tackle racism and diversity as fashion returned to transformed stage. Both the Black in Fashion Council and the Kelly Initiative were launched in June of 2020 “to represent and secure the advancement of Black individuals” through third-party audits, ensuring industry accountability. The 15 Percent Pledge, launched by accessories designer Aurora James, encourages retailers to pledge fifteen percent of their stock comes from Black-owned labels, in line with the African American population. In a joint statement, Black in Fashion’s co-founders write: “These kinds of opportunities are exactly what Black designers need, especially in the midst of this pandemic, as we continue supporting their creative endeavors and help them take things to the next level.” The spotlight upon Black designers is brighter than ever, as sixteen emerging talents supported by the Black in Fashion Council took their first strides in September’s New York Fashion Week.

​

The glamorous return of the Vogue Met Gala this fall peacocked public figures in the newest and hottest fashion, as a more-or-less return to ‘normal’ life has ensued. However, as we continue to question longstanding societal structures, fashion will never return to its ‘good old days’. More downtime to reminisce, reflect, and redefine during the pandemic enabled us consumers to realign our priorities with our values, hastening initiatives in sustainability, inclusivity, and purpose-driven consumption. The fashion industry had to completely transform to survive such an unprecedented shift in social paradigm. Not only did digitalization capture and transform retail channels, but it also supported the ever-so-important conversations within our social circles; quiet voices of skepticism and distrust in traditional systems accelerated into viral discussions almost overnight. Capitalism itself – and by extension, the fashion industry – became suspect for several of our social and environmental aches.

​

The box of clothing mentally-labeled ‘for when normal returns' was the last item I dragged up the stairs of my apartment for the 2021-2022 academic year. I introduced my loud dresses and glittery boots to the very front of my new closet, eager for the return of the catwalk most students call “walking between classes” – I accessorize with a mask, of course. However, the rest of the box didn’t make a triumphant return to my wardrobe: I exchanged several pairs of jeans – from a brand exposed (and swiftly canceled) for its CEO’s racist tweets – for Levi’s store credit. I feel assured knowing that the products from a discriminatory brand have since been shredded to pieces and now have a second life. Just like my old jeans were reworked with a new, avenged purpose, social and environmental movements are translated into new forms of expression as the fashion industry turns styles that signal political alliance into consumable aesthetics. The pieces that rotate in and out of our closets reflect the pandemic’s acceleration of the inevitable: reform in our values – and by extension, reform in the industry that supplies the physical means to express these values – that would have taken place years from now if the coronavirus had not totally reset our lives in 2020.

​

​

​

​

References (in order as they appear in the paper):

  1. Pascal, Susan. “Manhattan Beach Among Wealthiest Zip Codes in the Nation.” Manhattan Beach, CA Patch, Patch, 2 June 2021, patch.com/california/manhattanbeach/manhattan-beach-among-wealthiest-zip-codes- nation.

  2. Syme, Rachel. “A Year Without Clothes.” The New Yorker, 21 Dec. 2020, www.newyorker.com/culture/2020-in-review/a-year-without-clothes.

  3. Syme, Rachel, et al. “How Christian Siriano Turned His Fashion House into a Mask Factory.” The New Yorker, 31 Mar. 2020, www.newyorker.com/culture/on-and-off-the- avenue/how-christian-siriano-turned-his-fashion-house-into-a-mask-factory.

  4. Sumida, Nami. “The Running List of 2020 Retail Bankruptcies.” Retail Dive, 3 Mar. 2020, www.retaildive.com/news/the-running-list-of-2020-retail-bankruptcies/571159/.

  5. “Fashion Industry's Profits Hemmed in by the COVID-19 Pandemic.” McKinsey & Company, 11 Dec. 2020, www.mckinsey.com/featured-insights/coronavirus-leading- through-the-crisis/charting-the-path-to-the-next-normal/fashion-industrys-profits- hemmed-in-by-the-covid-19-pandemic.

  6. LearnVest. “What Your Clothes Say about You.” Forbes, Forbes Magazine, 30 June 2021, www.forbes.com/sites/learnvest/2012/04/03/what-your-clothes-say-about-you/.

  7. Stuckey, Heather L., and Jeremy Nobel. “The Connection between Art, Healing, and Public Health: A Review of Current Literature.” American Journal of Public Health, vol. 100, no. 2, Feb. 2010, pp. 254–263., doi:10.2105/ajph.2008.156497.

  8. “The Next Great Disruption Is Hybrid Work-Are We Ready?” Microsoft, 22 Mar. 2021, www.microsoft.com/en-us/worklab/work-trend-index/hybrid-work.

  9. Prazych, Len. “U.S. Ecommerce GROWS 44 Percent in 2020.” Board Converting News, 8 Feb. 2021, boardconvertingnews.com/2021/02/08/u-s-ecommerce-grows-44-percent-in- 2020/.

  10. Amed, Imran, et al. “The State of Fashion 2020: Coronavirus Update.” McKinsey & Company, 22 Mar. 2020.

  11. Ahmed, Osman. “People Are 'Revenge Shopping', but What Does 'Revenge Dressing' Look Like in 2021?” I, 26 Mar. 2021, i-d.vice.com/en_uk/article/epdywm/what-is- fashion-revenge-shopping-2021.

  12. Granskog, Anna, et al. “Survey: Consumer Sentiment on Sustainability in Fashion.” McKinsey & Company, McKinsey & Company, 12 Mar. 2021, www.mckinsey.com/industries/retail/our-insights/survey-consumer-sentiment-on- sustainability-in-fashion.

  13. Inc., Thredup. “2021 Fashion Resale Market and Trend Report.” ThredUP, 23 June 2021, www.thredup.com/resale/#resale-industry.

  14. “Trending: Levi's, ThredUP Fuel Growing Momentum Behind Secondhand Fashion.” Sustainable Brands, Sustainable Brands, 8 Oct. 2020, sustainablebrands.com/read/defining-the-next-economy/trending-levi-s-thredup-fuel- growing-momentum-behind-secondhand-fashion.

  15. Wagner, Lindsay Peoples. “Is There Room for Fashion Criticism in a Racist Industry?” The Cut, 30 Aug. 2021, www.thecut.com/2021/08/is-there-room-for-fashion-criticism-in- a-racist-industry.html.

  16. “The Fashion WORLD Promised More Diversity. Here's What We Found.” The New York Times, The New York Times, 4 Mar. 2021, www.nytimes.com/2021/03/04/style/Black-representation-fashion.html.

  17. James, Aurora. “15 Percent Pledge.” 15 Percent Pledge, www.15percentpledge.org/.

  18. Vogue Runway. “All the Ways New York Fashion Week Will Look Different This

  19. Year.” Vogue, 1 Sept. 2021, www.vogue.com/article/new-york-fashion-week-spring- 2022-preview.

IMG_0799_edited.png
bottom of page