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Sustainability has become the new buzzword in the Indian fashion industry. Walk into any boutique or scroll through Instagram, and you’ll see it everywhere — earthy tones, recycled tags, muted fonts whispering promises of “eco-conscious” choices. But lately, I’ve found myself wondering: how much of this is real change and how much is just excellent marketing?

As someone who genuinely wants to make better choices — not just for my wardrobe, but for the planet — I’ve started paying closer attention. And what I’ve noticed has made me uncomfortable. India’s fashion economy is booming, expected to hit $163 billion by 2026 (TechSci Research, 2024), but along with this explosive growth comes something murkier: the rise of greenwashing.

I keep asking myself — are we moving toward a more sustainable future, or are we just dressing it up in beige linen and kraft paper packaging?

What Even Is Greenwashing — and Why Does It Feel So Normal Now?

Greenwashing is what happens when brands talk the sustainability talk but quietly skip the walk. And in today’s India — where urban millennials and Gen Z are increasingly drawn to organic, ethical, “local” fashion — greenwashing has become a convenient disguise.

According to a 2023 Bain & Company report, 65% of urban Indian consumers say sustainability influences their fashion choices. That sounds encouraging, right? But here’s the catch: most of us don’t know how to spot the real from the performative. The same study found that a vast majority of shoppers feel confused and unsure about what sustainable fashion truly means. And with good reason — terms like eco-blend or sustainably made often float around without any regulation or accountability.

I still remember the kurta I bought last Diwali. It came in this beautifully minimal package — all brown cardboard and soft green typography, practically radiating "I’m good for the planet" energy. But when I checked the label inside, it read: 100% polyester. No sourcing info. No fair trade claims. No mention of how it was made. Just a very well-designed illusion.

And I’m not alone. In a 2021 study by the Changing Markets Foundation, over 60% of clothing items from major brands were found to have misleading or unsubstantiated sustainability claims. That’s not just marketing — that’s a trust gap.

Here’s the tougher truth: most of us want to make better choices — we just don’t. A 2023 report by BCG and the Sustainable Apparel Coalition found that while 75% of consumers say sustainability matters to them, only 33% change their buying behavior.

This is the tension sustainability lives in — between intent and impact. We care, but not always enough to question the label, or walk away from the fast-fashion deal, or buy less when we could afford more. And that’s exactly the gap many brands are counting on.

In that moment, it hit me — in Indian fashion today, looking green has somehow become more important than being green.

The Hidden Costs of “Eco” Fashion in India

We talk about sustainable fashion like it's a clean, guilt-free choice. But how clean is it?

The irony is hard to miss — fashion, one of India’s proudest creative exports, is also the country’s second-largest consumer of water. And even many of the products labeled as “eco” are still dyed using water-intensive methods or made with non-biodegradable synthetic blends. It makes me wonder: if the process behind a “green” garment pollutes rivers and depletes local resources, can we still call it sustainable?

But here’s what’s more unsettling — the conversation often stops at materials. No one talks enough about the people.

India’s informal garment sector, employing over 12 million workers, many of them women, remains invisible in this new “green” era. In the race to appeal to sustainability-conscious buyers, it's often the handloom weavers, artisans, and legacy

craftspeople who get pushed out. Their slow, skillful, waste-free traditions — honed over generations — don’t always fit the glossy narrative of “modern eco-fashion.” They aren’t Insta-aesthetic. They don’t come with bamboo hangers or eucalyptus-scented tags.

And yet, they were sustainable before sustainability was a marketing trend.

This isn’t just about fashion. It’s about cultural amnesia — forgetting the systems that were already working, in pursuit of a newer, shinier version of "green."

So What Does True Sustainability Look Like in India?

In a space overrun by surface-level symbols — jute packaging, earthy tones, and vague buzzwords — real sustainability is starting to feel radical.

It’s not about how a garment looks. It’s about how it was made, who made it, and what values it supports.

  • Transparency, for starters. Brands like Okhai, Brown Living, and Doodlage don’t just market values — they show them. They talk openly about their processes, artisan wages, and materials.
  • Certifications like GOTS or Craftmark may not be perfect, but they’re some of the few tools we have to separate genuine effort from performative eco-branding.
  • Local craftsmanship — not just as an aesthetic, but as a principle. When you buy from an NGO-run store or a self-help group, you're not just buying a product. You're preserving a community.
  • Repair, Reuse, Rental — platforms like Stage3 and Flyrobe are reshaping the Indian fashion narrative by challenging the very idea of ownership and excess.

Still, these solutions are not mainstream yet. And maybe that’s the question we need to keep asking: What will it take for “real sustainability” to become the norm, not the niche?

Conclusion: Beyond the Tag, Toward the Truth

I’ve fallen for it too — the linen shirt in the perfect muted tone, the kraft-paper tag that reads “eco-conscious,” the Instagram post that promises a better planet with every purchase. It’s comforting to believe that good intentions and good design are enough. But they’re not.

Because sustainable fashion in India needs more than a glow-up. It needs accountability, not just aesthetics.

But here's the harder truth: it’s not only the brands that need to change. It’s also us.

In a culture like ours, where every stage of life is a celebration — from the moment a child is born to the ceremonies, weddings, baby showers, and job promotions — we’re expected to wear something new, something loud, something that sparkles. And dare we repeat? It’s not just frowned upon, it’s interpreted as a sign that we’re not doing well, personally or professionally.

I remember re-wearing a deep blue lehenga to two family weddings in the same year. Someone leaned in and said, “Didn’t you wear this at Shruti’s reception?” as if I’d broken an unspoken dress code. It stung — not because they were wrong, but because they were right in how society sees it. Why did a piece of clothing suddenly feel like evidence?

And that’s exactly the pressure fast fashion thrives on — the need for newness. All the time. It’s no surprise that India now generates over 1 million tonnes of textile waste every year, most of which is non-biodegradable (IBEF, 2023). Zoom out, and the picture gets even bleaker — globally, the fashion industry produces over 92 million tonnes of textile waste annually (Earth.org, 2023), enough to fill the Great Wall of China twice over.

And if you think India’s contribution is negligible, think again — it’s rising fast.

The emotional cost — the pressure to constantly live up to others’ expectations — is quietly feeding an environmental crisis.

“Sustainability isn’t a look — it’s a system,” says Kriti Tula, founder of Doodlage, one of India’s most prominent upcycling brands. “You can’t market your way into being green.”

So maybe the real shift starts not with brands, but with how we see ourselves — and how we choose to be seen. Maybe repeating an outfit shouldn’t be a source of shame, but a badge of consciousness. Maybe renting clothes or reworking heirloom fabrics isn’t ‘budget behavior’ — it’s visionary.

And maybe — just maybe—it’s time we stop letting society decide what we can "afford" to wear.

Because this idea — that your clothes must constantly evolve to reflect your success — is both exhausting and unfair. Why should an outfit be a report card for our life’s progress? Why should a stranger's comfort with our choices define our confidence in them?

Somewhere along the way, we let fashion become less about self-expression and more about social validation. Wearing something simple to a wedding becomes a statement, not of minimalism, but of failure. Repeating clothes is read not as practicality or personal style, but as a lack of taste, of ambition, of success.

But what if we flipped the lens? What if choosing comfort over conformity, or sustainability over show, was seen as strength? What if a handwoven cotton sari passed down from a grandmother said more about you than a fresh designer lehenga ever could?

The truth is: real progress looks different for everyone. And it doesn’t always shimmer under fairy lights or need a selfie moment. Sometimes, it looks like quiet defiance — the kind that comes from saying, “This is enough. I am enough.”

We shouldn’t have to prove our income, relevance, or desirability through fabric and labels. We should be able to wear what feels like us, not what will keep others comfortable or quiet.

Because if fashion is truly personal, then our choices deserve to be too.

India doesn’t need to learn sustainability. We’ve lived it through handlooms, artisan crafts, shared wardrobes, and clothes stitched for longevity. We just need to remember it — and choose to honour it again.

Because in the end, fashion isn’t just about what we wear. It’s about what we’re willing to stand for.

.    .    .

Sources:

1. India’s Textile Waste (~1 Million Tonnes Annually)

2. Global Textile Waste (92 Million Tonnes per Year)

3. Greenwashing Trust Gap (>60% Misleading Claims)

  1. MDPI Article referencing the Changing Markets Foundation and misleading claims

4. Fast Fashion & Greenwashing Crackdown (~40% Misleading Claims Worldwide)

5. India’s Fashion Market Size ($163 Billion by 2026)

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