This idea of something being “accidentally sustainable” was something I came across last year. I was waiting in line to pay at a Zara and I saw this tiny, makeup-removing microfiber towel. At the time, I solely used cotton pads to remove the day’s dirt off my face, often using two or more pads a day. After buying and using the towel once, I was hooked. I did not set out that day to find something to make my daily routine/life more sustainable, and yet I came across and bought an item that did just that. Am I allowed to feel proud of doing so? Am I just doing the bare minimum, and nothing will make up for buying clothing at Zara in the first place? This oscillation between good consumer versus bad consumer is a main fixture of Professor Sophie Woodward’s chapter “Accidentally Sustainable? Ethnographic Approaches to Clothing Practices.” Woodward is done with the idea that the consumer simply buys clothing because they’re a victim of the fast fashion system. She’s even less tolerant of the argument that consumers are the villains in the fast fashion system, buying clothing for the sole purpose of its disposability. Instead, she clarifies that the consumer buys a fashion product in their own “specific personal, relational, and social contexts.” Woodward, like Edelkoort, disagrees with the sustainable fashion philosophy of making every stage of the fast fashion industry start from square one. Instead, she argues that we can trust the average consumer and designer to choose/design fashion products with longevity, intent and continued use in mind. This way, much more fashion products will go the way of the American blue jean, a lauded and memory-filled addition to any wardrobe, and one that is rarely thrown out.8