A Sustainable Fashion Journey Rooted in Thrift, Activism, and Motherhood
April holds a special place in my heart. For a sustainable living blog, it is only natural to assume I would point to the revered Mother Earth for this incredible, resilient planet. (Happy Earth Day!). While that is not far off, it is the month I became a mom to an amazing son, my only child, and this year he turns 13. Like me, he cares about the environment and all its inhabitants – humans and animals alike.
Regarding eco‑fashion, that’s where we might part ways. Don’t get me wrong—he thankfully doesn’t beg me to buy him overpriced sneakers or designer jeans. He’s perfectly content with items from consignment or thrift shops, and because he’s growing like a weed, he can fit into his dad’s T‑shirts. His fashion choices are not a top priority—and they weren’t mine growing up, either.
Raised among nine other siblings, when it came to clothes, shoes, and accessories, you only had to look to your elders. It happened that all the sisters were in the middle, with the boys at the ends. We didn’t go shopping for clothes unless it was back‑to‑school, when we picked out two outfits (which we could switch with the next sibling close in size) and one for Easter. Otherwise, we shopped our siblings’ closets—with permission, of course—for items that no longer fit them.
When I turned 16, while some dreamed of getting their driver’s license, I dreamed about the new clothes I would buy, albeit on my own. With my first paycheck, I bought my first pair of Birkenstocks, which carried me through college graduation.
At the age of 13, I embraced fashion as an extension of self-expression. After all, I was still wearing second-hand clothing that I would creatively make my own. Minimalism was already embedded in my existence. So, I would wear the same pair of jeans, styled 10 different ways. As a shy kid who secretly desired some bling (born and raised in Las Vegas may have been a contributing factor), I discovered that I could push the boundaries with clothes. I felt a little empowered by mixing and matching patterns and prints or accessorizing a ladylike dress with junky jewelry. And don’t forget the hair! I like to think I invented the “Rooster” bangs, that ratted batch of bangs that somehow balanced height with a perfect arc. [Okay, it was the late 80s/90s after all!]. Clothes afforded me the chance to experiment with different looks, which meandered until I found my comfort zone: preppy (not so much), gothic (fun until I got the side-eye from my parents), sporty (still a miss), bohemian (okay, almost right), or whatever inspired me that day (about right).
My fashion evolution began with hand-me-downs and became more informed when I joined Amnesty International as a teenager and learned about sweatshops and child labor in the garment industry. My worldview was growing and deepening; it was not a kind world. Add the environmental waste and pollution the industry creates, a seed was planted. I decided to change consumer behavior toward fashion in small ways. I would later work for the Fair Labor Association in Washington, DC, as the Communications Coordinator. I took copious notes during Board meetings, where industry leaders (Nike, adidas, Eddie Bauer, and Puma, reported on their corporate social responsibility programming or supply chain monitoring. A front row seat to plans on how to improve conditions and comply with international law. The experience inspired me to create My Signature Look, a personal shopping company committed to educating consumers about the source of their garments and directing them to local sustainable designers and indie boutiques. And now with Green Trotter.
I don’t know if my 13‑year‑old self knew this was possible—that there was a place for an introvert to raise some noise, some loving noise. But I do know that I have a responsibility to teach my son about his role on this magnificent planet and how he can make a positive change, big or small. That responsibility shows up in everyday moments: learning to ask where things come from, choosing to reuse before replacing, caring for what we already own, and understanding that our choices—what we buy, what we wear, what we waste—carry weight. I want him to know that sustainability isn’t about perfection or sacrifice; it’s about awareness, empathy, and intention. It’s about respecting people, animals, and the Earth, and recognizing that even small acts, done consistently, can ripple outward. If he learns that his voice matters, that his choices count, and that he can show up for the planet in ways that feel authentic to him, then I’ve done my part.