Fast fashion is having one of its strongest years yet. Shein reportedly acquires Everlane for $100 million. Bad Bunny launches a collection with Zara titled Benito Antonio, following Willy Chavarria’s partnership with the same Spanish fast fashion giant. H&M collaborates with sustainability figurehead Stella McCartney—raising an urgent question: what does “sustainable fashion” even mean in 2026? At the same time, global political crises have become impossible to ignore. Where mainstream news once compartmentalized conflict, since 2023 the world has been forced to confront multiple humanitarian catastrophes simultaneously. Israel’s ongoing assault on Gaza has resulted in staggering loss of life—whether one cites the widely referenced figure of 72,000 fatalities or acknowledges that the real number is likely far higher, the scale alone should have been enough to halt the world. Violence has extended into Lebanon, with thousands killed, 1.5 million displaced, and nearly 10,000 injured. On January 28, 2026, over 400 people were killed when artisanal tunnels collapsed in rebel-controlled mines in North Kivu. Circulating videos captured the moments before the collapse—miners extracting materials essential for the very technologies that power our daily lives: phones, electric vehicles, and consumer electronics.
Social media has turned these crises into a continuous, overwhelming stream—Sudan, Congo, Palestine, Lebanon—pushing public attention to its limits. Where sustainability and ethical consumption once held space in public discourse, they now compete with existential geopolitical realities. The threshold for what constitutes “business as usual” has shifted dramatically.
This is where Naomi Klein’s concept of the shock doctrine feels particularly relevant: moments of collective crisis create the conditions for economic actors to push through opportunistic expansions. In this case, fast fashion’s continued growth. The Shein–Everlane deal—reportedly facilitated by majority owner L Catterton at a steep discount from Everlane’s previous $550 million valuation, weighed down by roughly $90 million in debt—is emblematic of this shift. Fast fashion is, fundamentally, a race to the bottom.
But what happens to “sustainable fashion” when the world itself feels unsustainable?
Livelihoods are increasingly precarious. In 2025, U.S.-based employers announced over 1.17 million job cuts—the highest since 2010 and the most severe since the pandemic. In early 2026, layoffs surged again, rising more than 118% year-over-year in January alone. Globally, the ripple effects of geopolitical conflict—from the Iran–U.S.–Israel tensions to energy market instability—are driving up the cost of living, from fuel to groceries.
Beyond sustainable fashion lies the broader illusion of “sustainable living”—a lifestyle increasingly marketed as attainable, yet often reserved for those with extreme privilege. The aesthetics of self-sufficiency are sold back to the public through curated personas, while the reality remains inaccessible to most.
What the fashion industry can no longer obscure is this: everything is political. From luxury to fast fashion, from “ethical” branding to mass production, every layer is embedded in systems of power. The industry’s long-standing claim to neutrality is perhaps its greatest hypocrisy. When that façade collapses, what remains is a structure driven by profit at any cost—hence deals like Shein and Everlane. Consumers are left searching for brands and organizations they can trust in a market where compromise often feels inevitable. From multinational conglomerates to fast fashion giants, acquisitions frequently dilute or undermine the very values that built consumer trust. Even legacy brands known for activism struggle to maintain autonomy under corporate ownership.
In 2022, Shein approached Slow Factory with a $10 million offer to serve as a communications and community engagement partner. At the time, accepting would have secured financial sustainability for the organization. But the cost was clear: becoming a vehicle for corporate image management, diverting from our mission and long-term impact. We declined, we weren’t about to make a deal with the devil. The reality, however, is more complex than a simple moral stance. Doing this work carries both financial and emotional costs—ones that are rarely acknowledged or supported. It is easy to champion integrity in theory; it is far harder when livelihoods are at stake, and when the very systems we operate within are designed to extract, exploit, and exhaust.
Fast fashion may be killing the planet—but what is also at risk are the very organizations trying to imagine something better, often without the resources to survive.