Why I’ve Marie Kondo-d my IG feed of anyone who doesn’t wear the same outfit twice

In our new Unfollow column, we take a look at the rise of social media tropes and put a finger on why some of them haunt us, even after we close the app. Call us negative, but we’re positive that sometimes, the only thing you can do to keep sane in our age of overstimulation is mute, hide, and unfollow.

We all know one: that influencer/acquaintance/coworker who has the kind of closet that gives you serious The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe vibes (i.e. so vast it practically transports you to a whole other world). We’ve grown accustomed to watching them stunt on Instagram, with a new outfit for every post like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Well, let me tell you something: it isn’t. Admittedly, I am a little jealous of some of these people— I’m a 20-something freelance writer, so I’m neither rolling in disposable cash nor do I have the apartment space to house an expansive clothing collection. More often than not, however, these posers are less likely to provoke envy than acute panic.

As we’re well aware, the planet is going up in flames thanks to humanity’s  bottomless appetite for consumption, with the global fashion industry as one of the worst offenders in terms of pollution. This is not to say that we should all be running around in hemp sacks or swear off retail therapy forever (I, for one, am looking forward to the next Hanger drop) but buying clothes for the sake of showing off to your friends and followers is something we should all be giving a miss. Anyone who’s worn a backless, multi-strap bodysuit with mesh inserts knows that clothes that pop up on social media don’t always translate well to real life. With the rise of lightning-fast fashion (let’s not forget the notorious £1 bikini courtesy of Missguided) that’s cheap, dubiously made and expendable—alongside a social media culture that feeds off of novelty and belches out likes, comments and fire emojis in return—it seems like people are buying outfits for the sake of the grid, but not actually subjecting them to IRL wear.

All this does is normalise the notion that style is measured by how many items of clothing you own, rather than celebrating the fashion visionaries—of all economic means—who are able to select a few pieces and style them into multitudes of looks. Seeing the ultimate fashion goal as quantity rather than quality—a criterion which, FYI, shouldn’t be measured in how expensive or “on trend” an item is but, rather, how much you love it—is a perspective that I’m finding rather hard to stomach nowadays. 

Why? Well, because all it does is encourage the impulse-buying and bug-eyed online shopping frenzies that are some of the ugliest habits of late-stage capitalism. We’re not purchasing things out of necessity, or even out of clothes-lust (the most powerful of emotions, take it from me), but out of a need to fill the void with pointless stuff. 

The worst thing about all of this isn’t the stuff in and of itself, or even the act of flaunting your garms on Instagram. It’s all the things we can’t see that have me on the brink of existential despair—namely, the colourless CO2 fumes from factories clogging up the atmosphere as factories churn out €2 crop tops, or the millions of unsold items of clothing  burned by luxury brands each season. We need to think more critically about the real collateral damage of our social media-facilitated conspicuous consumption: the long-suffering planet. Moreover, we can’t simply ignore the very human price of bottoming-out retail prices: the exploited labourers working hours upon hours for unsustainable pay, all the while  brands parrot out lines about “empowerment”—empowerment for whom, I wonder?

It’s because of all of this that I’m smashing the unfollow button for anyone who I haven’t seen wear the same outfit twice on Instagram…drawing the line at my actual friends—for them the mute button and a stern conversation about climate change is (probably) enough for the moment.

Anything you’re cutting out of your social media diet? Send your pitch to kathryn@sleekmag.com.