You’re Not Addicted to Clothes – Understanding the Real Drivers of Fashion Overconsumption
Updated: Apr 13
Written by Therese Lyander, Writer & Private Mentor
Therese Lyander is a Swedish writer and private mentor whose work explores the relationship between the body, human behaviour, and the deeper patterns that shape our lives. Alongside her writing, she works privately with a small number of clients each year through long-term mentorship focused on embodied change and nervous system regulation.
Overconsumption in fashion isn’t really about clothes, it’s about how we try to manage identity, emotions, and belonging. This article explores why buying more often reflects internal needs, and why understanding those needs is key to creating truly sustainable change.
The question we keep avoiding
We keep asking how to fix overproduction in fashion, how to recycle better, how to build circular systems, how to reduce waste. These are necessary conversations, but they tend to stay on the surface.
What we rarely ask is the more uncomfortable question, why does the demand look like this in the first place? Because overconsumption is not only a system problem. It is also a human one. If we don’t understand what is driving the behavior, we will keep trying to solve the outcome instead of the cause.
This isn’t really about clothes
From the outside, it can look like an obsession with clothes, new drops, constant updates, endless variations of style. But when you look closer, clothes are rarely the actual point. They become a tool, a way to regulate how we feel, to shape how we are perceived, and to move closer to an identity we are still trying to define.
Most people are not addicted to clothes. They are using clothes to navigate something internal that feels uncertain.
When identity becomes something we manage externally
Clothing has always been a form of expression, but it has gradually taken on another role. It is no longer only about reflecting who we are, but also about constructing who we feel we need to be to belong, to be understood, to feel relevant.
When identity does not feel stable internally, we begin to manage it externally. Clothes become one of the fastest ways to do that. You can change how you are perceived almost instantly, without having to anchor that change within yourself.
For a long time, this was my own pattern. Consumption was not random. It was driven by identity, performance, and appearance. There was an underlying need to control how I was seen, to fit in while still standing out, to get it “right.” Whether that meant the perfect outfit, a more curated version of myself, or adding something extra to be noticed, it was all part of the same mechanism.
Looking back, it was less about creativity and more about compensation.
The feeling behind “I have nothing to wear”
There is a moment most people recognize, standing in front of a full wardrobe and still feeling like there is nothing to wear. On the surface, it looks like a lack of options. In reality, it is often a lack of alignment.
Something does not feel quite right, not grounded, not clear, not fully like yourself. And instead of interpreting that as an internal signal, we tend to interpret it as a practical problem.
So we solve it externally. We look for something that will restore the feeling of being “right” again.
Consumption as emotional regulation
This is where consumption starts to take on a different role. Shopping can function as a form of emotional regulation. It can create a temporary shift in state, a sense of control, a lift in mood, a renewed sense of identity.
That is why it can resemble other patterns we associate with coping mechanisms, not because fashion is inherently problematic, but because of the function it starts to serve. When buying something becomes a way to change how you feel, how you see yourself, or how you believe others will see you, it is no longer just consumption. It becomes a way of managing internal states through external means.
Why the system feels so powerful
It would be easy to place the responsibility entirely on external systems, such as social media, marketing, and the acceleration of trends. And these forces are undeniably powerful. But they do not create the need from nothing. They amplify what is already there.
They tap into existing sensitivities, the need to belong, the fear of not being enough, the desire to be seen in a certain way. This is why the influence feels so strong, and it is not because we are weak, but because the message resonates with something unresolved.
The deeper layer: Avoidance and replacement
There is also a more uncomfortable layer to this. Consumption can become a way of avoiding what feels difficult to sit with. Instead of processing discomfort, we replace it. Instead of staying with uncertainty, we move away from it.
A new purchase can feel like a reset, a new version of yourself, a way to move forward without having to look too closely at what is actually asking for attention.
Why circular solutions are not enough on their own
The fashion industry is currently moving toward more circular models with resale, recommerce, and recycling. These are important and necessary steps, but they primarily address the flow of products, not the drivers of demand.
If the underlying behavior remains unchanged, the system will adapt rather than transform. We may reduce waste in one area while increasing it in another. We may create more efficient loops, but still operate from the same psychological patterns.
This is not an argument against circularity. It is an argument for expanding the conversation because a truly sustainable system also needs to account for human behavior, not just material flow.
What changed and surprised me
The shift, at least in my own experience, did not come from deciding to consume less. It came from a deeper internal change.
There was a period in my life where I stepped away from everything familiar and went traveling, living simply, being disconnected from the usual expectations around appearance. At the same time, I was already in a process of questioning my habits, my identity, and the way I related to my body.
What surprised me was not that my behavior changed, it was how effortless it became. The need to present myself in a certain way simply fell away. I stopped wearing makeup, stopped thinking as much about how I was perceived, and over time, my consumption patterns changed without effort. It was not discipline. It was the absence of the previous need.
What I did not expect was how much this would affect other areas of my life. When I stopped presenting a constructed version of myself, I also stopped attracting situations and relationships that were based on that version. My relationships changed, my environment changed, and eventually, the direction of my life changed. What looked like a shift in style was actually a shift in identity.
Beyond “consume less”
The conversation around fashion often ends in some version of “we need to consume less.” While that may be true, it does not address the underlying question of why we consume the way we do in the first place.
Without that understanding, reduced consumption easily turns into restriction, guilt, or temporary behavior change rather than something sustainable.
A deeper shift requires awareness, not just control.
A different starting point
If we want to understand overconsumption, we need to look beyond the garments themselves. We need to look at how identity is formed, how emotions are regulated, and how discomfort is processed.
Because consumption is often not about what we are buying. It is about what we are trying to resolve. You’re not addicted to clothes, but something in you might be asking for attention. And clothes have simply been one of the most available ways to respond.
Read more from Therese Lyander
Therese Lyander, Writer & Private Mentor
Therese Lyander is a Swedish writer and creative entrepreneur whose work explores the relationship between the body, human behaviour, and the deeper patterns that shape our lives.
Her background spans art, fashion, and cultural work, from sewing costumes for West End theatre productions in London to curating art exhibitions in Stockholm. A prolonged period of complex illness later redirected her life toward a deeper exploration of the body and human healing, leading her to study subjects such as trauma, nervous system regulation, nutrition, contemplative practice, and Human Design.
Today, her writing focuses on why intellectual insight alone rarely changes deeply held patterns—and how meaningful change often begins in the body.
