Jan 31

Jan 31 Conscious Confessions: Is Ethical Fashion Too Expensive or Are Our Definitions Wrong?

Last week, I published the first "segment" of my Conscious Confessions about the different definitions of the word "ethical" and the (often hidden) fact that ethics and ethical shopping aren't a black and white area. Rather, they're a grey, mushy area full of opinions, and perspective, and history.

But that, I believe, is what makes the topic beautiful and worth learning about.

This Conscious Confession series isn't planned or sponsored- rather, it's a reflection of issues and conversations that I see rising in the slow fashion community and want to dissect further in the "safe space" of my own blog. It's a place for discussion and thought and, maybe disagreement.

Jan 22

Jan 22 Conscious Confessions: When Ethical Means Different Things (Part 1)

Olivia Youngs

Slow Fashion, Slow Living

It seems like once a year or so, I hit a crossroads.

I get fed up with the false "ease" of ethical shopping, or, sometimes, I forget my voice amid the discount codes and slew of other eco-bloggers promoting similar brands (all with beautiful intentions and insta-feeds), or worse yet, I forget why I ditched fast fashion in the first place, caught up in the thrill of new brands and collaboration.

Dec 30

Dec 30 Stories of Dressember || Danica

Olivia Youngs

Slow Living

I made this art piece in 2010 after a trip to Nicaragua. Going to Nicaragua was my first experience of real poverty, and I was astounded by poverty’s effect on the people who suffered the worst. I saw children who had ceased to dream, create, and imagine over time. And it made sense – why would these children set hopes on dreams that would never come true as far as they had seen?

But on this trip, I saw another astounding thing. Everywhere I went, even in the poorest villages, I saw a few astounding individuals who survived – even thrived – and set their eyes on their birthplaces, hoping that one day they would be able to return and help. In some miraculous manner, these individuals either retained their childlike ability to dream, or they were reignited by someone who stopped to believe in them until they believed in themselves.

Dec 29

Dec 29 Stories of Dressember || Enyo

Olivia Youngs

dressember, Guest Posts, Slow Living

What does freedom mean to me? That is a question I have been asking myself for a long time. At one time, it simply looked like being free to do as I pleased. Freedom was something I expected to have. Sure, there were certain discriminatory forces which meant that as a young, black immigrant woman, I didn't have quite the same access to freedom as the "majority". But I was free enough. I had the freedom of choice - at least within the limits of the law - to do as I pleased. I had the freedom to receive an education. The freedom to live where I pleased. To eat what I wanted, wear what I wanted and freely practice my faith. I was free to vote and free to work.

Dec 27

Dec 27 Stories of Dressember || Stephen

Olivia Youngs

Slow Living

When I first heard about Dressember from my daughter, I didn’t get it. Wearing a dress to call attention to human trafficking? I dismissed it for a couple reasons. First, I’m a guy and I don’t wear dresses, second, what good would it do anyway?

Dec 24

Dec 24 Stories of Dressember || Cayla

Olivia Youngs

dressember, Guest Posts, Slow Living

I remember when I first started to become aware that the world wasn’t as rosy-colored and full of magic as I once thought. I remember beginning to notice that some people lived with much, and others with little. I remember that I initially wanted to look away, thinking, why would I want to let such a painful reality taint my picture of the world?

But I looked; I looked and I read. Then I met a boy named Samuel and a child named Joy. Both of their mothers sold sex as a means of living. I wrestled with what that meant.

For me, college was a time of expanding my breadth of knowledge about the world and the perverseness it carried. I asked myself questions, like, “what is human trafficking?” I filled my time with documentaries, books, classes, and conversations to get to the bottom of these thoughts consuming my mind. I remember when I learned that the town I lived in was an actual hub for human traffickers, and that the street which housed my favorite Thai restaurant doubled as a traffic-way for sex trade operations. Who knew? I didn’t. I didn’t know that most of my clothing was made by people who were coerced into their job for various reasons, and had little to no chance of escape. I didn’t know that my iPhone, jeans, t-shirts, and chocolate were made by hands who didn’t have a choice in the matter. I didn’t know.