My fall uniform, without fail, has been a knit, a killer pair of jeans and a campus boot. I consider myself a diehard denim fan in any season, but with passion comes heartache: I call it the Blue Issue.

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A brief on blue jeans

Denim’s been beloved since its arrival on the textile scene in the late 17th century. French weavers from Nîmes, attempting to make a sturdy fabric known as sergé, accidentally produced the first batch of denim, nicknamed “sergé de Nîmes”.

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Not too far from there, the Italians began producing a cotton and wool blended cloth dyed with indigo — that classic blue hue we have come to know and love in our jeans — using it to make both clothing and cloth sails for their ships.

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America was introduced to denim a little further down the line, when icon Levi Strauss, the German importer, began bringing over large batches of the durable, popular cloth, and had the first pair of riveted denim pants designed and manufactured by 1873.

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The cloth quickly took over in agricultural fields, creating a demand for overalls, and work pants were in mass production by 1890.

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The 1900s were ushered in with a Western twist, as cowboys, miners and railroad workers traded in their wool and foxed pants for the highly comfortable, durable and affordable denim jean.

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Having seen Hollywood stars, such as John Wayne and Gary Cooper, transform the denim pants from tradespeople’s uniforms to a symbol of rugged good looks on screen, it only took until 1930 for Vogue to give their stamp of approval on denim for women, calling jeans “Western chic.”

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James Dean and Marlon Brando did some heavy lifting for denim’s brand in the ’50s, making them the pant for challenging societal norms (read: too cool for a suit).

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By the time the ’60s rolled around, bell bottoms and protests were synonymous. You wore jeans to side with the oppressed, to make a statement.

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The ’70s were for self-expression, while the ’80s were for acid wash. The appearance of the iconic JNCO turned the ’90s into a grunge-fest: the wider the jeans, the cooler the outfit. Pants with enormous, sometimes useless pockets, tons of drag and potential fraying and ankle bite were all the rage, and we found our love for the Mom jean (high waisted, relaxed).

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Enter the 2000s. We watched the waist drop, the zipper shorten, and the thigh skim while the bottom flared. Low-rise jeans hit record highs.

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It took until the 2010s to tighten up the ankles (many now would agree we overcorrected) with the arrival of the skinny jean. Branded anywhere from “slim-fit” to “cigarette-cut”, the skinny jean became the jean for the “indie sleaze” era.

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Which takes us to now: somewhere along the line, maybe during the pandemic, we decided to take a break from outlining our legs in four way–stretch cotton blend, and made way for a more more relaxed, mid-rise, boxy cut.

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The “it” jeans we see today are between a low and mid-rise, sitting tighter on the hip and flaring out almost immediately, leaving you with a more square Dad fit, that sits relaxed and offers more volume.

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My issue, or rather, the Blue Issue, is that despite all the thinking that has gone into the shape and cut of our jeans, we haven’t really gotten any closer to making sustainable denim an accessible or affordable reality.

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When more than half the adult population in the world is reported to wear jeans every day, I have to consider that this is an issue with serious reach.

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Deciphering denim data

It takes approximately 1,800 gallons (6,800 litres) of water to grow the cotton required to produce one pair of jeans on average, according to data reported by sustainability site Tree Hugger.

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A ten-minute shower, with a regular shower head, uses about 21 gallons (79 litres). So think of it like taking 85 showers to make one pair of jeans.

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Here's another: An Olympic swimming pool is filled with 660,430 gallons (2.5 million litres) of water. That could get you the cotton required to make 366 pairs of jeans.

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A water tower can hold 1 million gallons (3.7 million litres). Hilariously, that amount of water would only produce enough cotton for 555 pairs of jeans. It could save an entire town from a wildfire, but it couldn’t clothe a public school.

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These are numbers that feel surreal, but the unfortunate reality is that our favourite material to make pants with is also one of the most costly to our ecosystem.

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That’s why it’s essential that we continue to challenge the ways denim has been produced in the past, and demand development in the textile industry to change the standards of creation.

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Cotton, colour, cost

Cotton fields cover 2.5 per cent of our planet, and account for about six per cent of global pesticide use and 16 per cent of global insecticide use.

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It takes one-third of a pound of pesticides to maintain each pound of cotton grown. Considering that it takes 1.5 pounds of cotton to make a standard pair of jeans, and the average adult owns seven pairs, that denim stack in our closet comes out at about 2.31 pounds of pesticides used per person.

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Consider the colour component next. Twenty per cent of global wastewater comes from garment production. From that 20 per cent, 85 per cent can be attributed to the dyeing process.

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Denim, traditionally, is dyed using indigo. That gorgeous blue water, now contaminated with mercury, lead and copper, is then not so beautifully dumped into waterways, which we know feed and pollute more significant water sources.

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Even the distressing process (shredding, adding holes, fading the dye pattern) is harmful in more ways than one.

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When the denim is being distressed, it is sandblasted, sandpapered, and often washed with stones and chemicals. Sandblasting leaves particulate in the air, which can be inhaled by garment workers and can lead to a life-threatening pulmonary disease called silicosis.

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A blue-green wash

The true cost of a modern pair of jeans is one that both our ecosystem and vulnerable populations pay.

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Corporations have grown wise to our rising concerns, and we see examples of greenwashing begin to appear on the racks. Greenwashing is a term we developed to explain false sustainability claims by large brands, who use evasive and evocative language to suggest an eco-friendly component to specific collections or garments.

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Luckily, our skepticism is warranted. A staggering 59 per per cent of brands’ sustainability claims are misleading, according to UK-based sustainability group Changing Markets Foundation. Yes, that’s right, more than half of what they tell us is a lie. Are we even surprised?

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There are a few ways you can avoid getting taken for a ride when it comes to jean greenwashing.

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Anything that mentions plastic (recycled plastic, recycled PET, recycled polyester) is a cause for alarm. Plastic should never be involved in sustainable solutions, as it never biodegrades, and the addition of plastic to garments is detrimental to the mission.

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Adding plastic fibres to textiles reduces their ability to be recycled again, which entirely defeats the purpose. This is aside from the fact that adding stretch to modern denim is, for the most part, a lazy corporate practice that was introduced to fit a wider array of bodies without having to design for variety.

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Buzzwords should also set off alarm bells.

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Natural materials: Labeling something “natural” doesn’t make it safe. Cyanide, asbestos and arsenic are natural, but are deadly even in trace amounts. That “new jean smell” you can get sometimes is the scent of formaldehyde (also a natural material, just not something you’d want on your skin ever).

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Eco-friendly: This is a term that carries no weight, coined to avoid giving specifics while giving the idea that ecology has been considered.

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Green: Another super fun, undefined vague word that conveys a quality tied to environmentalism without proof.

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Biodegradable: This refers to the quality of something that partially or completely degrades within a human lifetime, but does not specify the percentage or quality of that degradation.

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Basically, they can write whatever they want, and aren’t generally asked to provide any real insight into their supply chain or sources.

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Infamous fast fashion brand H&M actually got caught faking their numbers, displaying wildly inaccurate data for their “Conscious Choice” collection. Funnily enough, they didn’t have any jeans listed as part of this collection. Even they know what denim does.

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Fighting the jean machine

It’s autumn here in Canada, and denim weather is upon us. I’m not going to tell you not to invest in denim, or how to spend your money.

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What I will do, as I am known to do, is remind you that you always have options. Denim has been around a long time, and you probably don’t have to Buy New to find your blue.

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Thrift your denim

Find out your preferred rise (how high they sit), your waist measurements, your widest point (hips and butt) and your inseam (crotch to ankle/where you want them to land).

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Hold onto these measurements and bring a soft measuring tape with you to evaluate whether a secondhand pair will fit the way you want them to. I’m a victim of laziness, so knowing my measurements has saved me the trouble of trying on pants I know won’t fit, which is half the battle with jeans.

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Tailor your denim

If the pants you’re thrifting are too long, too loose, too wide — that’s solvable. Darting your jeans can take several inches off the waistband and leave fabric as an option if you want to let them out later.

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Same thing goes for hemming. I have even seen @sequeljeans take old pairs of jeans and splice them into jeans that have been outgrown, offering extra leg room, more hip room, and a completely revamped shape.

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Do your research

I’m not the first to write about sustainable denim options, and the experts have done a lot of the heavy lifting for us. @simplysuzette offers a crash course in understanding the supply chain, while Good On You has a ranked directory page for all things denim.

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Comb your community sellers

Chances are, you already know a vintage, second-hand or thrift reseller with denim in your size, in your area. Shoot them a message, and if you come equipped with your measurements, you would be surprised how helpful they can be in sourcing the perfect pair.

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The Blue Issue in review

Denim is a fantastic option for fashion, utility and workwear. It’s not evil to love the way it looks, feels, or how useful it can be.

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The main thing to take away from the Blue Issue is that there is always a cost to be paid, beyond the price tag, when purchasing new denim. As conscious and intelligent consumers, we have the ability to demand accountability from brands, and, in the absence of honesty, we can also decide not to support them.

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If all you do today is read about jeans, that’s actually enough for me.

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If tomorrow, you think twice about buying new jeans, that’s also really great.

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If you take your jeans in to get tailored, fixed, or reworked, I’ve done my job, because you’re starting to see denim the way I want everyone to see it: a fabric perfect for casual dress, that should not be produced casually.

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Cowboys, ravers, roofers, regular Joes and Janes: what unites us? A love of denim, and a need for textile reform.

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We can’t go on like this, and we certainly aren’t retiring the Canadian Tuxedo. Something’s gotta give — and I’m looking at you, jean machine.

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Genevieve Smith is a fashion stylist, writer and founder of Gifts of Thrift. As a yard sale enthusiast, thrift store supporter, and die-hard environmental entrepreneur, she has spent the last two decades trying to figure out how to convince people it is, in fact, cooler to care. Her bimonthly column for The Vintage Seeker, ThreadFul, covers the intersection of thrifting, secondhand fashion, ethical style and sustainability.

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