Liam Waldman | Nov. 25, 2020
In the face of climate change and rampant consumerism, one brand has emerged as a leader in sustainable capitalism. Now the brand faces its biggest challenge; Can it keep up with its own popularity?
In a culture of choices, it’s easy to become immersed in the sheer quantity of things that one can own. This culture is no more apparent than in America. The image of modern-day America is one of consumerism, indulgence, and variety. In constant pursuit of things, some people have begun to resent that behavior. A surge in minimalist living was notably spearheaded by Marie Kondo and her Netflix show, Tidying Up, about the organization of one’s material life in pursuit of minimalism. We are arguably in the midst of the American minimalism renaissance, only compounded by being confined in our spaces due to a pandemic. Instead of marketing quantity and choice, companies such as Ikea and Japanese fast fashion bastion Uniqlo are marketing simplicity.
No company has cultivated this as much as Patagonia, created by Yvon Chouinard, an avid outdoorsman and environmentalist from France. Living quietly and in remote place, Chouinard has maintained a near-mythic existence as the headmaster of the brand. Named after the idyllic South American region where the now 81-year-old Couindard explored during his younger years, Patagonia feels different from the rest of the clothing brands that have populated the more affluent sects of America’s population.
Synonymous with tech-bros and Silicon Valley, Patagonia is known for its popularity amongst the wealthy and environmentally conscious crowd. On the other hand (or arguably in a similar fashion), Patagonia is sometimes nicknamed “Patagucci” for its appearance on ‘daddy’s-money’ frat bros’ backs, a clear divergence from Chouinard’s intention that obfuscates the (pretty good) things that make Patagonia different from its competitors.
In light of the faux-environmentalism that other companies have attempted to employ for an image boost, Patagonia has maintained its integrity – sacrificing profit for its much bigger message of protecting the environment. Their now-famous “Worn Wear” program was kickstarted by a wagon that traveled around the country to repair people’s ripped and unwearable gear to its former glory for free. That project reached its peak in 2014 when Patagonia made an ad for its jacket by telling its customers “Don’t Buy This Jacket.”
Telling consumers to repair their previously bought goods instead of forcing consumers to make new purchases sounds contradictory to the whole idea of American consumerism, but it’s become Patagonia’s biggest selling point. That strategy is meeting the moment. Gen Z is the first generation in which the majority of people would spend more on goods if they were environmentally friendly. As a whole, consumers are much more inclined to purchase climate-friendly goods than they were 20 years ago. It’s no wonder that Nike recently created its first fully recycled sneaker and why buzzwords like recycled and sustainable have become selling points. Patagonia knows we are living in a new era of consumerism.
Patagonia’s unique appeal extends past its advocacy — Tons of people just really like their products. Patagonia’s eponymous patch displays a landscape of the Patagonian mountains; it is now a staple on most of their clothing items. Perhaps one of their most recognizable products is the “Synchilla Snap-T Fleece,” a light fleece sweatshirt with buttons that descend from the neckline to the wearer’s chest. The piece’s popularity stems from its wearability. The warmth provided from the thin fleece allows it to be ideal for colder temperatures while not being too bulky, making it for layering in between a shirt and a winter coat.
The piece’s popularity extends beyond its face-value. The design has been co-opted and worn by celebrities like Kendall Jenner and Shia LeBeouf. Patagonia’s amount of staple-status items are no small list. You may also be familiar with Patagonia’s “baggies” shorts – waterproof and breathable solid-colored shorts with a small Patagonia patch on the bottom edge. These shorts are so popular that they were featured in online shopping destination Lyst’s most recent quarterly fashion index which ranked Patagonia’s baggies as the 8th hottest menswear product.
This feature is a breath of fresh air from the other featured products including a Travis Scott and Nike collaboration sneaker and Balenciaga socks. These simple $55 shorts lack the prestige and price tag of those items (most notably the Travis Scott Air Max 270’s which sell for around $270) but make up for it in wearability and accessibility. Perhaps that’s what makes Patagonia a clear diversion from the rest of the bunch. It’s objectively a good company that makes simple clothing that’s well made and (mostly) not insanely expensive. It is not a luxury brand, but it does belong in the higher end of outdoor apparel.
Noticeably folksier than the likes of outdoor brands including The North Face and Adidas, Patagonia’s appeal also has a downside; it risks challenging the accessibility and general goal of the brand. That concern can be reflected in another one of the brand’s iconic pieces, the Retro X Fleece: A thick fleece jacket noticeable with its distinct color blocking and a large chest pocket that features the namesake Patagonia logo. When I was searching for the perfect jacket that wasn’t too warm (not necessary here in Los Angeles) but also somewhat stylish, the Retro X Fleece stuck out.
In search of my very own Patagonia Retro X fleece, I scoured different links only to come in contact with an over $200 price tag. An avid sale-shopper I insisted on finding one for a more attainable price, so I went onto the aftermarket. I looked on Depop and Grailed and was hit with an uncomfortable truth: Patagonia’s Retro X fleece was more expensive in the aftermarket. I was encountering fleeces for over $300 all the way to a vintage reversible Patagonia fleece in the thousands. Patagonia’s surge in popularity has carried over into the underbelly of shopping. On Grailed, a men’s clothing marketplace, one of Patagonia’s original iterations of its fleece, the 1997 reversible “Glissade Thunder” fetches a price tag of over $2,400, a whopping markup from its original 200-or-so-dollar price tag.
In Downtown Los Angeles, Anthony Marques of Cherry Vintage sells high-end vintage clothing alongside other vendors at Bleach Gift Shop. For him, witnessing the brand’s evolution has been fascinating. “Growing up, Patagonia, for me, was not something that was popular. It was more for people that were heavily outdoors.” The initial unfamiliarity he had with the company began to turn upside down as he became more interested in vintage clothing. “I think people who are interested in vintage will understand that something that will last 40 years will last another 40.”
That new-era consumerist ethos makes a lot of sense for Patagonia, which Marques was drawn to after “Learning about their give back and recycle programs where you can reuse and refurbish and learning more about the founder [Yvon Chouinard] who is crazy interesting.” Patagonia’s surge in both popularity and aftermarket price didn’t come out of anywhere. In Japan’s world of high-end men’s clothing, a penchant for the vintage ‘Americana’ aesthetic has often latched onto Patagonia.
Buying vintage clothing from America in Japan is no small feat, so local brands have sought to replicate what they couldn’t have. As different as Japan may seem in terms of culture and style, outdoor clothing seems to be where America and Japan overlap. It makes complete sense: both have notably diverse landscapes with infamous ski spots, mountains, beaches, and dramatic weather. “Japan went crazy for it. If you look at all these sick new Japanese brands they take this old Americana stuff, like Kapital is doing with the fleeces. That’s like a huge spark in what caused the increase.” Japanese clothing brands like Kapital and Nanamica often derive inspiration from vintage American outdoor clothing like Patagonia, resulting in a surge in interest by both Japanese and American consumers.
The irony that an American clothing brand needed to become popular in Japan for it to be ‘cool’ here is not lost on Marques who quipped, “And then Japan makes us think it’s cool all over again.” Now, Patagonia is in uncharted territory. As its popularity balloons, the scarcity of certain pieces increases. As Anthony stated, “It’s not necessarily available and you have to seek it out — anything that is rare will get people excited.”
Patagonia’s message of ‘easy’ environmentalism is getting challenged by the same capitalist notions of over-consumerism and scarcity that they wanted to combat in the first place. Although the Worn Wear aspect of the brand is allowing Patagonia to provide their own distribution of vintage garments, the demand is infinitely continuing. Patagonia is playing a dangerous balancing game between popularity, accessibility, and sustainability. If the brand becomes a victim of its own success, it loses the ability to be a key player in a new form of consumerism. This paradoxical existence is one that speaks to the quality of the brand, but also to the consumers who continue to purchase their pieces.
