LATEST STORIES

We first met The Style Line's Rachel Schwartzmann late last summer, around the time she was rebranding her website and we were unveiling our own first-anniversary site makeover. Beyond some shared technology woes, we found commonalities in our respective missions: TSL was born in early 2011 as a Tumblr-based, interview-centric street style blog, and the revamped online publication doubles down on that mission with a stated goal of "bringing storytelling with style back to the web"–much in the vein of what Ethica aims to accomplish within the context of a shopping site. Instead of products or trends, Rachel's focus is on places and, most of all, people.

As much as we've always loved our regular visits to The Style Line, the offerings lately have been particularly suited to our sensibilities. Recent stories include profiles on Ethica pals Rachel Kibbe of Helpsy and Wear No Evil author Greta Eagan, as well as features on sustainable jewelry designers Melissa Joy Manning and Nettie Kent. And there have been collaborations of our own, as well: Last December, we enlisted Rachel to share holiday gift ideas with the Ethica community, and she recently shared the story behind our gorgeous Hart jackets–which she's wearing in the photo above–with her audience.

Given the historical links between the rise of style blogs and fast fashion, we were curious about what it was that drew Rachel–for whom "selfies" are an occupational hazard–toward sustainable fashion instead. She shares what inspired her to hop aboard the eco-fashion train, and what the journey has been like to date.



What sparked your interest in sustainable fashion? Sustainability has become more present on my personal radar since relaunching The Style Line in August 2013. I've made it a goal to take a concrete position in terms of our content and the stories we share, which is why it is primarily people-focused and story-driven. Speaking more to this, we've very organically started talking to individuals and brands who either incorporate sustainable practices in their businesses or focus on creating products with value. It's become a recurrent theme in our stories, and coupled with our growing platforms that are so people-driven, I've started to understand that it is our responsibility to begin having what some may consider "difficult" conversations and at least getting the word out on what the eco-fashion community is bringing to the forefront.

For me, it's not so much about shouting, "Go Green!" to the world, but sharing these very real issues with our community and encouraging them to at least find some middle ground in their shopping and living habits. The more I personally become aware and knowledgeable of these issues, the more compelled I am to integrate it into The Style Line's brand DNA. It's a story in itself.

As I've gotten older, I've really learned the value behind less is more.

Was there one specific moment or piece of information that drove home why these issue are important? Hearing that the fashion/textile industry is the second largest world polluter next to oil is mind-boggling. [Ed. note: We made this very point in our November 2013 interview with TSL!] Literally, I think my immediate response upon hearing this was, "How?" That's when I became interested in speaking with people who could help shed some light on ways to change this.

What are some of your favorite eco-fashion brands? There are a ton, but a few that come to mind immediately include Melissa Joy Manning, Valentine Gauthier, Popinjay and Ivana Helsinki.

What steps are you taking to green your own wardrobe? As I've gotten older, I've really learned the value behind less is more. I'm actually doing a huge closet clean-out this season and have made a decision to no longer shop at a lot of major fast-fashion retailers. While I can't promise to go entirely green (at least at this point), I am taking steps to become much more well-informed prior to purchasing anything that may have come from questionable conditions. If I can look good and feel good all based on my purchasing power, then that's a change I'm definitely willing to make.


Inset portrait by Jinna Yang; courtesy of Rachel Schwartzmann

Alice & Whittles sounds like the name of a whimsical pair in search of adventure, doesn’t it? The romantic moniker belongs to Ethica's first shoe line. These aren’t just any shoes, though. These are espadrilles, famously favored by the likes of Salvador Dali and Pablo Picasso. It's small wonder why, since the artistic simplicity of an espadrille—it’s made of canvas, jute and rubber—is a welcome comfort for doing just about anything, especially traveling.

Alice & Whittles elevates the concept with incredibly transparent and thoughtful sourcing and production methods. After launching via a hugely successful Kickstarter campaign in April 2013, the company continues to forge ahead with its model of sustainable production. So how exactly do you turn a passion for ethical fashion–or for anything, really–into a business? We caught up with co-founder Sofi Khwaja to ask her about what it takes to build a socially responsible company.





1. Connect the dots between so-called disconnected parts of your life—you might find you’re actually working toward your true calling.

Sofi says: “My partner Nick and I were working with the United Nations Refugee Agency in Tunisia, shortly after the revolution. I’m also a lawyer. After years in the system, trying to clean up pieces of a mess that’s made over and over again, we started asking ourselves, ‘Is this the right way to affect massive issues of poverty?’ We thought about what industries had the potential to balance the inequities of the world. Clothing is a human necessity. Economically, production takes place in regions that are unregulated, affecting billions of garment workers around the world."

2. Make something that fills a gap in the market. Something that you’d love to wear yourself.

Sofi says: “We traveled a lot for work. 90 percent of what was in our suitcase was clothing. We thought about the items you could take to India and on vacation in St. Tropez. We came up with espadrilles. We wanted to make amazing, high-quality espadrilles that are beautifully crafted by the people of a region, and give back to those people at the same time.”





3. Freaking out about the competition? Don’t. Because you can do it better.

Sofi says: “Tom’s One for One model, which gives a pair of shoes to a child in need for every pair purchased, might have brilliant marketing behind it. But a company like Tom’s is missing the point. The truth is, mass-production on this scale isn’t sustainable. If you’re using exploitative labor, it doesn’t discount the negative impact you’re having. The charity model doesn’t work. It’s killing economies—basically you’re dumping all these free shoes in local communities. Now where are all the local shoemakers going to go?”

4. Do extensive research and tap into local know-how.

Sofi says: “We decided to go to the country that has the longest legacy in the garment industry: India. We spoke to policy makers, factory workers and slum garment factory owners. Then we decided to think outside of the box within the textiles world. We landed on a rural NGO, Khamir, which works to preserve the cultural ecology of the Kutch region of Gujarat. We work with brilliant people doing extraordinary things. We chose Kutch because we wanted canvas, and this region’s cotton was perfect. The artisans had the knowledge of the material we wanted to use, because the same canvas was used to make tarps in their farming communities.”





5. Practice what you preach.

Sofi says: “We provide fair trade for the labor behind Alice & Whittles. We give our artisan workers advance payment, health insurance, training, and there’s a commitment to full transparency about our business. From the organic cotton farmers’ seeds to the hand-weavers who make our shoes—we’re sticking to the principles we believe in. We’re not trying to make people feel guilty about what they buy, we’re trying to make a product that’s about workmanship, craftsmanship and quality. We want the shoes to be affordable and facilitate change on a grassroots level.”

6. Remember: Sacrifices can lead to the unexpected.

Sofi says: “Alice & Whittles is our baby, a reflection of both Nick and me. We don’t have anyone else but ourselves to do this. It’s our insides, our livelihood. Even for our wedding, we kept it very small because we spent that money on getting our business together.

Fear holds people back, and I had to shake off my ego and go against the grain of the family and culture I grew up in. But after I told my mother I was leaving the U.N. for fashion, she went upstairs to get a massive binder. In it was a coat of arms contract for my great-grandfather’s company, Alison & Co. They made clothes for the Raj, and the name was derived from the British mispronunciation of Ali & Son. We came up with the name as a play on Alison & Co. and Whittles, Nick’s mother’s family name. There’s so much love here, it’s so very meaningful to us. This is the best decision I ever made.”

True to her label's "urban-island aesthetic," ABACAXI founder Sheena Sood's home studio is an oasis in the middle of Brooklyn. Lavender walls, Indian embroidered pillows and neon Guatemalan throws reveal Sood’s love of travel, color and indigenous textiles. For her clothing line, which is made locally in New York, Sood sources traditional fabrics from artisan communities in India, then remixes classic pieces like saree blouses into edgy leather crop tops. All around her studio, you’ll find pineapple paraphernalia gifted by friends. These are little reminders of the vision behind Abacaxi, which means pineapple in Portuguese and “channels the tropics–the sun, surf, and lush flora and fauna.” We caught up with the newest member of the Ethica family to discuss her design inspirations and sneak a peek at her colorful digs.  –Tanwi Nandini Islam

There’s such a playful, eclectic vibe to Abacaxi. When did you get into fashion design? I always had an interest in textiles and patterns. Even from a young age, I always used to draw. I went to Brown and studied art, but my paintings involved a lot of fabric, embroidery and beading, which led me into textile design. I did a course in London at Central Saint Martin’s in textile design, where I learned how to weave and print by hand. I moved to New York knowing I wanted to work in fashion, and eventually I got a job at Tracy Reese as an assistant designer.

Working for Tracy Reese is a huge step for a young designer! Yes, I was never trained in fashion design, draping, patternmaking and all of that.



When did you decide it was time to do your own thing? After I left Tracy Reese, I went to India for three months. I just needed a break. I didn’t know exactly what I was going to do when I came back, but as I was traveling in Rajasthan, I started collecting these embroideries that I just loved–vintages pieces from old kurtas. I probably had 20 or 25 when I came back. I had the opportunity to create my first capsule collection for a store locally, and I went for it. Each piece in the first capsule is one-of-a-kind, because I used those embroideries.

What challenges are young designers are facing nowadays? It doesn’t seem easy to strike out on your own. One thing that’s tough is that here in in New York the market is so inundated. I think a lot of stores are bombarded with a million young designers–there’s just too much. Unless you know the right people, it’s hard to breaking into stores. [At this stage], I want to continue to grow the brand, find the right retailers and hire a team. Right now, it’s just me. I want to be able to focus on design and production. From my first capsule to the latest collection, there’s definitely been a growth. I’m learning as I go along, about fit, what fabric is best to use. I want to continue to make each collection better than the last.

Do you gravitate toward certain aesthetics? All around your studio and in your collection, there’s so much of the "cosmopolitan, well-traveled woman" look you’ve cultivated. I’m obsessed with color. I love all colors. From season to season, the colors will always change in my collections--that’s something I’m always paying attention to. In terms of pattern, I’m also really inspired travel. I speak Spanish fluently and love traveling to Latin America. I just love the tropics. Right now I’ve used a lot of traditional Indian fabric, woven and embroidered, but I’d like to eventually work with artisans not just in India but around the world.



Is it hard to recreate these traditional Indian embroidered textiles? Your capsule collection repurposed vintage embroideries, but now you’re designing new ones. Shrujan, the Indian artisan NGO in Bhuj, Gujurat has been really good to work with. Their artisans can recreate the [vintage] embroidery. I draw a design and they send it to a bunch of artisans they work with.

How does sustainability factor into your work? All of my stuff is manufactured here in New York City’s Garment Center. That’s something I’ve been conscious about and would like to continue doing. The fabrics will change from season to season, but there’s definitely a focus on natural fibers like silk and cotton, and of course, a focus on sustainably sourced fabrics.

You’ve got women artisans crafting the textiles and New York Garment workers sewing the pieces. Who’s the woman you envision wearing your clothes? I’ve designed these collections to be very wearable. The focus is really on the textiles. She’s someone who has an interest in textiles, color and pattern. She likes clothes that are flattering, but she’s adventurous and likes to be a little seductive.


Abacaxi FW14 Launch NYC runway image by Udor Photography, courtesy of Abacaxi.

By Tanwi Nandini Islam

April 24th marks the one-year anniversary of the deadliest garment industry accident in human history—the collapse of Rana Plaza in Dhaka, Bangladesh. Watching the horror unfold, by way of graphic, heartbreaking photographs, made me rethink everything I thought about Bangladesh’s robust garments economy, and my own relationship to fashion. For many of us, buying fast fashion is an easy way to look good for less, do a little retail therapy without breaking the bank.

Yet, after Rana Plaza, we had a lot of hard thinking to do. How could we possibly worry about the value of our clothes, when such a glaring disregard for the value of human life happened? "Made in Bangladesh," a phrase that should be a source of pride, of economic growth, has now become cause for a collective shudder. In the face of rubble and death, the resounding aftermath has been a call to unionize, compensate and ensure workplace safety.

Western brands’ connection to the tragedy was inextricable. To date, many of the retailers who were producing their garments at Rana Plaza have deposited a mere $17 million of the pledged $40 million relief fund, a.k.a. The Arrangement, to pay medical bills and lost wages to the survivors and families of the dead. Brands that have yet to pay the pledged amount include The Children’s Place, Walmart and JC Penney.

It's just one year later, and it seems as though Western interest is already diminishing.

This March, I had the chance to visit a garment factory in Badda, a neighborhood in Dhaka that felt more like a strip of nondescript businesses than a garment industry zone like Savar, where Rana Plaza once stood. I had little idea what to expect. Images of destruction, underage child labor and dilapidated structures are what we imagine—like Rana Plaza or the burnt remains of Tazreen.

Along with my sister and the head of operations, a man named Suleiman who reminded us of a Bangladeshi Chris Farley, I toured the nine-story garment factory. We enter through a loading dock, where a group of men listen to the radio, waiting for the next shipment of fabric to come in. Just to the right of the freight elevator, we see a childcare room, with a simple assortment of toys and toddler chairs, and no children. (It certainly seems like a bad idea to leave a child downstairs right by the freight elevator and building’s entrance…)

Suleiman leads us through the maze that is his factory, with a sense of pride in their standards of compliance. We enter a darkened room, where huge bolts of fabric, imported from India and China, are stored.

"Kohl’s Inspection Room" reads the sign on the door. I remember that Kohl’s is one of the companies that has refused to sign The Accord, a European agreement that legally binds retailers “to establish a fire and building safety program in Bangladesh for a period of five years.” Many brands, including H&M, as well as some U.S. retailers like Abercrombie & Fitch, Sean John Apparel and Scoop NYC, have signed The Accord. Companies who have signed this measure are signing on to ensure workplace safety and accountability.

Kohl’s, as well as Gap and Walmart, have instead created The Alliance, a group of North American companies. Why did they opt out of The Accord? The European agreement features a binding arbitration process, which means companies may be legally responsible in their respective national courts if they fail to deliver on the terms of The Accord. There are no binding terms for The Alliance, and the responsibility is up to local factory owners to fix their workplaces. If these sub-contractors don’t do their part, they will lose the company’s business.

The Arrangement, The Accord and The Alliance all sound like post-apocalyptic factions, rather than real organizing for change.



Suleiman leads us upstairs to the fabric inspection room, where a male worker runs the bolt of fabric through a machine to catch any irregularities or tears. The sound of fabric weaving through the machine is almost meditative, and like every worker in the factory, this young man must own his sole production task. Throughout our walk in the factory, each person’s role is intrinsic to the making of every shirt.

There’s the fabric-cutter, who wears a protective glove reminiscent of Michael Jackson, or the collar-maker, who pricks the pointy-ends of a collar to make them sharp. Most everyone seated at a sewing machine wears a mini-surgical mask for their nose, to prevent loose threads from flying in. There is a vivid strangeness to the whole scene. All of the women wear brightly colored salwaar kameez, and saris—florals, polka dots, batik—the pure opposite of the boring sleeveless shirts they make for the end buyers. One or two workers smile at us, and we wave. Yet most cannot look up from what they are doing because a misstep means a lost shirt.

And we aren’t allowed to pull them aside to ask questions.

Suleiman takes us through the making of one sleeveless button-down shirt, which he will later give us at the end of the visit. He holds up one worker’s task—attaching the collar—for our examination.

“See?” he says, holding up the shirt. “I feel proud when I see this. This is made in Bangladesh.” He gestures to the empty aisle between sewing stations, the path covered with arrows moving in one direction. “See? This is compliance. No one can stand in these rows. If there is a fire, they must follow this path to exit.”

“How much do your workers make per month?” I ask.

“We pay them 11,000 taka per month,” says Suleiman.

I do a quick calculation; that’s about $141 per month. Divided by 30 days, 11 hours a day, that’s about 42 cents per hour. My sister and I share a glance. From a few conversations with friends and family, the average domestic worker (who cooks, cleans, raises children and supports the very basis of middle- and upper-class life in urban Bangladesh) makes about 2,000 to 4,000 BDT, or Bangladesh taka, per month. As evident from Bangladeshi photographer Jannatul Mawa’s series on domestic workers and their bosses, these workers remain separate from the families that employ them. Within Bangladesh’s social and economic class context, the garment industry has been a boon for young female workers who want to earn more than work formerly available to them.

Right? As we walk up to the final stage of production, where hundreds of shirts hang on racks, waiting to be steamed, we pass by a film crew and a man furiously blasting a fire hose outside of the window.

“What’s he doing?”

“We’re making a fire safety video for our buyers,” Suleiman says.

“Ah, so you have sprinklers?” I ask.

“Oh, no, not yet. We are working on that.”



While I learned a lot about a factory attempting to be compliant in a post-Rana Plaza garment industry, there is still much work to be done. In a country of 154.7 million people living in land the size of Wisconsin, we know change will not happen overnight. But we have to continue to put pressure on retailers to not back down on workplace safety. In retrospect, I’m wondering if the lack of sprinklers would’ve been solved had Kohl’s been a part of The Accord. If legally bound to reckon with infrastructure issues, I want to believe that workplace safety could become a reality in Bangladesh.

The garment industry has transformed Bangladesh’s economy, and it’s worth making the industry a fair, safe and empowering space for Bangladeshi workers. The answer lies in change, not in shutting down factories.

So, what can we do from here? I’ve joined a collective of activists and artists of Bangladeshi descent to organize actions in front of two locations in New York City: Union Square in Manhattan (6 p.m.) and Diversity Plaza in Jackson Heights, Queens (8 p.m.) to commemorate the workers who died, and the survivors who rebuild their lives after trauma. We will shout for Western companies to take responsibility for compliance and workplace safety. We will raise placards etched with phrases like, “Who Are You Wearing?” and photographs of the dead and the living. And we will light candles, holding vigil for the changes we demand, until they burn out.

For more information about April 24th Rana Plaza actions in your city, check out the International Labor Rights Forum: http://www.laborrights.org/events.


Tanwi Nandini Islam is a novelist, journalist and youth educator living in Brooklyn, NY. Her debut novel, Bright Lines, will be published by Viking/Penguin in 2015. Follow her @tanwinandini.

Meet Catherine Litke, the young designer whose line of American-made womenswear sits at the intersection of craftsy and cool. From embroidered fabrics to cape-back blouses, the LITKE look veers from retro-feminine to futuristic–it's Miu Miu with a hint of McQueen. Dive into our moodboard slideshow for a peek at her eclectic sources of inspiration, and read through the Q&A below to uncover the formula behind this former stylist's killer dress code.

Your sweaters are produced near Cape Cod at one of the oldest knitting factories in the U.S. What has it been like to work with them and become part of an American tradition? Working with American factories is really wonderful because you have so much control over each step of production. Collaborating with mills that have been around for almost a century is especially great because they know so much about their process, and there is so much pride taken in the quality of each product. I feel that it is so important to support garment and textile business in America, as factories are quickly disappearing here, and it's nice to know that I'm both supporting and learning from a company that has such a rich history.

Little-known fact: You source components for your garments from local quilting circles and have even enlisted your mom to do some knitting for you. Yet the Litke aesthetic reads as precise, polished and very fresh. Do you perceive a contradiction here, or is it these hands-on touches that lend a unique and luxurious quality to your designs? I definitely look toward the future in terms of my shapes, but I also have so much admiration for artisans who have been passing down their craft for generations, and I think that those two elements can live together in a really wonderful way. There is something so special about an object made completely by human hands without the use of machines that I don't think can ever be replaced by technology.

At some point, my style merged into this combination of a girl from Picnic at Hanging Rock and a French New Wave heroine.

This (spring 2014) collection is just the second you've produced, but we already see your designs in the press, as well as on celebrities and high-profile editors. Does it feel like the fashion community has embraced Litke? I'm so appreciative of all of the support that the brand has received early on, and I'm just working to keep that momentum as this year begins. What I love most about this industry is that it is always moving forward, and that's what I'm trying to do with the line this year, create growth in as natural a way as possible. There will definitely be some exciting surprises for 2014!

You've said that your friends describe your personal style as "sexy Amish." What's your philosophy or approach to what you wear? It's funny because this question comes up so much, and I'm not sure how it happened, but at some point my style merged into this very specific combination of a girl from Picnic at Hanging Rock and a French New Wave heroine. Since then, I've developed a daily uniform that I don't really stray from. It involves as many 1920s white cotton sundresses as I can get my hands on in the summer, and a large pile of turtlenecks, button-down shirts and vintage high-waisted jeans in the colder months, but it unfortunately doesn't get much more scientific than that.

When people ask me the inevitable question–“So what do you do in Shanghai?”–it’s impossible for me to answer succinctly. After finishing two high-octane years as an fashion and lifestyle editor at a major English-language magazine in Shanghai in 2012, I’ve since been working as a freelance China fashion market consultant and lifestyle writer. I’m also a blogger and give private shopping tours to clients of luxury travel concierge companies. Last but not least, I launched my niche line of jackets, Hart, in 2013.

So, most of the time, I just say, “I work in fashion.” But then another hard-to-answer question usually follows: “What’s the fashion scene in Shanghai like?” It’s equally impossible to give a short, simple reply. Instead, I’d rather list my five favorite things.



Qipaos, mandarin collars and Mao suits will forever be sartorial icons of China. But what is the latest frontier for Chinese fashion? What is modern Chinese style? It certainly can’t be summed up with just a few adjectives like Parisian style can ("chic and classic"). But China’s talented fresh crop of designers can answer those questions better than anyone else.

I love local labels like Ms. Min, Chictopia by Christine Lau and anything that Nicole Zhang dreams up. Designing specifically for their peers, these creative women are shaping what Chinese fashion is today.



While this stereotype is slowly being chipped away, most people only think of China as the mass producer of all things cheap. Of course, less-than-ideal working conditions still exist in some places, but many manufacturing areas now have improved labor laws, higher wages and overall better standards of living. During my time as an editor, I interviewed designers and big brands that moved their production from China to other countries like India and Indonesia. One designer told me, “It’s now way too expensive to produce in China.”

Local luxury label Shang Xia (backed by Hermès) is proud of their Chinese craftsmanship and eager to show it to the world. So am I. The care labels inside my jackets say, “Proudly Made in Shanghai.” I work with a large workshop, where the tailors are happy and treated very well, and the attention to detail is fantastic.



China is a hugely diverse country, with dozens of minority groups claiming their own ancient histories, cultures, beliefs and, of course, crafts–including clothing. When I first learned about the textiles and culture of Miao minorities in southwest China several years ago, I was instantly hooked.

China is hurtling so fast into the future as a modern mega-power that the local traditions of these minority groups are disappearing very quickly. In fact, some of the middle-aged Miao women who help me source vintage embroideries from their villages were never taught how to embroider by their mothers. Already the art form has been lost by two generations of Miao women. The textiles are getting harder and harder to find, but hopefully the growing demand for the craft will inspire young women to pick it back up.



Textiles, textiles, textiles! Any textile lover should come to Shanghai, which has several textile markets. At Shiliupu Fabric Market (picture Mood Fabric Store, then multiply the stock by 100), you can see fashion designers and students browsing through the mountains of fabric rolls with their sketches in hand. The four-story market is brimming with options, which is both very overwhelming and inspiring.

Shanghai is also home to China’s traditional textiles. Whenever I get a textile aficionado as a client on my bespoke Shanghai shopping tours, I take them to the Nankeen Exhibition Hall, which is home to China’s centuries-old indigo dyed fabric. (When I took Levi’s global creative team there, they nearly died of pure joy!) My lovely Shanghai friends at LuRu Home use traditional Nankeen fabric for modern home furnishings. Check them out!



If you can dream it, you can have it made in Shanghai. From fabric markets to humble hole-in-the-wall leather shops, this city is home to brilliant craftsmen who can make just about anything–shoes, blouses, belts, bags and clothing. I tend to stick to classic pieces without any bells and whistles–cotton dress shirts ($20), leather brogues ($150), silk blouses ($60), leather mini skirts ($120), cotton sundresses ($20), and the list goes on.

My line of jackets actually started out this way. I had a few pieces of Miao embroidery and asked one of my favorite tailors to make a jacket for me. Neither of us knew exactly how to apply the intricate Miao embroidery at the time, so it was a labor of love that took many fittings over trial and error, but in the end, I finally produced my first jacket. I was hooked, and the rest is history.

Do shop-for-charity initiatives fall within the ethical fashion movement? Sometimes, and we're all for them when they do. But it's also true that charitable donations are no replacement for responsible business practices (ahem, Walmart–the country's most philanthropic company); that some corporations do a whole lot of pinkwashing, greenwashing and then some; and that there are legitimate questions about how and when aid is effective.

More importantly, we've always believed that supporting ethical fashion cannot feel like an act of charity if the movement is to have long-term success. Philanthropy can have tremendous results, but most of us engage in it sporadically. Our goal, on the other hand, is to shape an approach toward fashion that is consistently thoughtful and deliberative—one in which we always ask ourselves how our purchases are impacting our world.

Angela · Roi, the first philanthropy-focused brand that we've introduced to Ethica, is about both charity and change. This vegan handbag label allocates $5 from each sale to nonprofit groups working to end cancer and other endemic diseases. And it does so through a Donate By Color model, meaning that customers can support specific charities based on the handbag hue they select. Going for basic black? Your new bag will help fund melanoma research. Looking to add a pop of color to your closet? Red bags benefit an AIDS organization, while yellow bags support efforts against childhood cancer. It's a clever way of engaging shoppers and prompting them to consider how they'd like to use their purchasing power.

By attaching signature cause ribbons to every bag and sending out information about their charity partners with each purchase, Angela · Roi is also endeavoring to raise awareness, spark conversation and encourage philanthropic activity. That's a lot of purpose to pack into a purse! Check out what co-founder Roi Lee had to say about the bags and their mission.



You've said that quality and durability were among your highest priorities when developing your bags. Tell us about creating a product that's built to last. We wanted to make the highest-quality vegan handbags on the market. People think that vegan leather is low-quality and cheap, and [they] pay a high premium for real leather. We wanted to prove that the quality of vegan leather can be good and fashionable. We’re proud of our craftsmanship. Our manufacturers use sewing machines to make the handbags, and some handmade process is involved.

Angela · Roi uses PVC* for its Palette crossbodies. Have you considered working with vegan materials that are more environmentally friendly, such as cork-based synthetics or recycled plastics? We admit that PVC is not an environmentally friendly material. We did consider using other materials, but we were unable to push it. It's very hard to come up with design and style that we admire with those materials, at our stage as a company. But it’s something we look to do in the future as we grow.

Customer service and corporate social responsibility are often two distinct areas, but Angela · Roi's mission statement links the two: "We prioritize ethical and respectful treatment of our customers. Our products reflect a value system that is focused on customer satisfaction, not profit margins.” How did you develop this business philosophy? It's very simple. We like to do good and make people happy. We try to make the world a better place. It would be ironic if we mistreated our customers and made them unhappy.

Your father suffered a cerebral hemorrage when you were young, which is part of the reason Angela · Roi support nonprofits with health-related missions. How did you select your charity partners? The first thing that mattered to us was whether the charity is transparent and healthy in the way it spends its money. Plus, we wanted to work with people who shared the same vision. Angela · Roi is not a nonprofit organization, but we are certain that we can build a sustainable model to support cancer- and disease-fighters. We spent a good amount of time and effort in finding these groups. Lastly, we sought to find a balance between local- and national-size charities within the U.S.



One of the things we love most about your company is the emphasis you place on community and sparking a conversation–for instance, including awareness ribbons on your bags and sending out reading material related to the charities you support. What is your ultimate dream for Angela · Roi? Our ultimate mission is to change people's consumer behavior. We want to let them know that when they consume fashion or other lifestyle products, they can help others at the same time. People who are shopping have disposable income. On the other hand, many others can't afford to fight a disease they're suffering from. We can make the world a better place if we are able to connect those two extreme sides in the right way.

How is Angela · Roi driving change within the fashion industry? In the past, companies gave back to society when they had strong financial results. For example, if Company A hit a net profit of $10 million, they allocated some amount of that to CSR. Nowadays, more companies are coming up with models where every sale gives back. We think these models are more sustainable, and we really expect to see more of those in the industry. 

In what ways would you like to see fashion change? We would like to see more people feeling proud of themselves by supporting meaningful causes, not by wearing expensive logos, when it comes to fashion. Coco Chanel once stated, "Elegance is when the inside is as beautiful as the outside." 


*Note: Angela · Roi’s Palette crossbody bags are not eco-friendly; PVC is a hard-to-recycle plastic that falls short of our commitment to sustainable synthetics. We've made an exception in working with this brand because we admire their mission and methods, but most importantly because they've been transparent about the fact that sustainability was not an initial priority. We take Lee at his word when he says the company intends to explore sustainable alternatives–a change that we, as a retail partner, hope to encourage and support.

By Jess Lively of With Intention

Though I am far from a fashion blogger, I’ve learned several lessons over the past seven years of intentionally evolving my wardrobe. The first key to building an intentional wardrobe that I’ve learned thus far is…

Creating a clear vision is essential.

Fashion and style will gradually shift over time as our lives and tastes change, but I don’t believe that an intentional wardrobe can begin unless some unifying theme or vision emerges. That vision or theme may take a while to develop, but we must start with this essential step before ever stepping foot in our closets or whipping out our wallets.

To start this process, it might be helpful to reflect on how you feel about your wardrobe as it is right now. You might find that overall you are pretty satisfied with your clothing, or, you might find that you are really wishing for something quite different. To gauge the overall standing of your wardrobe, it could be helpful to do a mental Venn diagram and think about how much overlap there is between what you want your wardrobe to be like and what it actually is like.

Big disconnect? Then it’s time to start thinking deeply about what it is you want to look or feel like in your clothing. Small disconnect? That means you already have a rather good – or great – vision that you may be knowingly or unknowingly acting upon already.

Here are three simple methods to try to determine your vision:

1. Create an inspiration board.

Thanks to Pinterest, this has never been easier. Simply dive through magazines, catalogs, fashion blogs or Pinterest and find the images and styles that resonate with you the most. Consolidating the images to a physical board or online pinboard helps to give you a feel for your overall style (tip: this can even be done seasonally).

Next, it could be helpful to look for themes across the images. For me, I like color, stripes, dots and all things white and gold. Overall, my look is rather preppy, but I am recently trying to keep it from looking too predictable.

After taking a look at the trends on your board, you might be able to identify pieces within your wardrobe that don’t match your vision, and others that do. This is what is going to help you when you go into your closet to exfoliate and create an intentional shopping list of items you’d like to include.

Dedication to the greater vision helped me achieve a more cohesive and collected closet.

2. Create a mantra.

Another way to think about your wardrobe is to think about how you’d like to feel or look. For example, I helped a friend years ago with her own closet exfoliation. She used the phrase “effortlessly chic” to help guide her exfoliations and inclusions in her wardrobe. Her innate understanding of that phrase gave her the courage to donate those items that were nice, but not within with her vision. It also gave her the restraint needed to avoid sale items or budget buys that didn’t match the “effortlessly chic” vibe.

For my own wardrobe, I set an intention (ironically during the poorest time of my life) to only have “nice things.” What qualified as nice? Anything that was high quality, lasted the test of time, and had a sophistication about it that I liked.

Needless to say, I didn’t have much cash to go buy a lot of nice things at the time. So instead, I spent my time doing what I could: I exfoliated all the “not nice” things that I could live without. For me, that exfoliation phase meant that I had fewer things overall, but the proportion of nice things rose with each cheap or unnecessary item’s exfoliation. And for the past five years, I have done my best to buy things that either look “nice” or are intentional investments in my wardrobe.

3. WWJD?

For a phase of my college career before the “nice things” mantra I shared above, I did a massive exfoliation (of mostly Forever 21 clothes) under the vision of “What Would Jennifer (Aniston) Do?” Sure, it was rather silly. But I felt at the time that she really encapsulated a lot of the style that I admired. Her casual chic pieces were simple and sophisticated at the same time.

This led me to exfoliate a lot of the more frivolous items, like aqua sequin tops, pink layered skirts and a neon orange something-or-other. Even though a little (immature) part of me still liked the pieces a bit, the dedication to the greater vision helped me achieve a much more cohesive and collected closet. And I can’t tell you the number of items I decided not buy from Forever 21 when on the WWJD spree–which, in the end, saved me money on things I would have later regretted.

Picking a fashion icon may not be a long-term key to an intentional wardrobe and vision, but it can be a nice place to start if other methods don’t seem to click.

Once you have your vision clarified, you will be ready to start editing your closet and including new items in an intentional way.


As the writer and teacher behind With Intention, Jess Lively helps people apply an intention-based approach to business, relationships, careers–and even closets. This story was originally published on JessLively.com.

With February 14th just around the corner, it seems like everyone has love on the brain. But for our part, we're nurturing a different kind of romance this month: a love affair with our wardrobes. 

Some people will argue that sustainable fashion is about minimalism. That the goal is to become less materialistic.

This is true–but it's also true that, paradoxically, building a conscious closet requires us to assign more value to certain possessions. It's about making considered investments instead of impulsive splurges. It requires us to devote time and effort into caring for what we own.

Whether our reasons are practical, "vain" or utterly sentimental, there's a strong case to be made for connecting with what we buy, for becoming more attached and appreciative of what we choose to wear. A mindless purchase is easily relegated to the back of the closet and on to a landfill. Pieces that we treasure stay with us for years.

Think of the mileage we put on those goods that are extra comfortable, delightfully flattering, or hold special meaning: Jewelry passed on from mother to daughter. Winter coats that hold their own on 10-degree days. A significant other's t-shirt-turned-nightgown. Your "lucky" interview outfit. That confidence-boosting cocktail dress.

Items like these are the keepers, the antithesis to disposable fashion.

If we all fell in love with what we buy and own, we'd share stories instead of prices. We'd shop less and look better. That's why, on this Valentine's Day, we're celebrating the clothing and accessories that we've worn to death and literally loved to pieces. We're highlighting the beauty of faded favorites–those longtime wardrobe staples that we'll continue to cling to in all their frayed, tattered glory.

Check out our team's most beloved belongings above, and let us know: which item in your closet has been with you through thick and thin? Tag @shopethica and use the hashtags #worntodeath and #lovedtopieces to share.


From eco-friendly flowers to recyclable wrapping paper and handprinted cards, it's all in our 2013 Ethical Valentine's Day Gift Guide.

Running a transcontinental acessories brand can be a trip–literally. As the founder of MERCHANT SOCIETY, Alexa Jacobs ventures to various corners of the earth to source, design and produce her line of luxe artisanal bags and handmade jewelry. Check out the sights, sounds and even the scents and stones that inspired her during a recent trip to India and Southeast Asia.

1. After two nights in Delhi, I travel to Rishikesh to work on creating our new sandalwood malas. This is a typical breakfast there: masala dosa with delicious fresh coconut chutney and fruit. In a word, YUM!

2. The last stop in my whirlwind Asia trip was Bali. This is me in Ubud, North Bali at a stunning ancient temple.

3. Welcome to Jaipur! On arrival, I was greeted with this brightly painted, magnificent elephant outside my hotel–an iconic sight of India!

4. These sandalwood bracelets with purple tassels are a new design. If only you could scratch and sniff! They smell wonderful.

5. Chrysoprase for days! This is one of my most favorite colors and stones. I'm designing a new necklace with this elegant, magical stone.

6. This was sunset at Canggu Beach. It was my last night in Bali, and the end of the Merchant Society adventure to find and design one-of-a-kind, handmade jewelry and accessories.