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Inside Climeworks’ big experiment to wrest carbon from the air

In the spring of 2021, the world’s leading authority on energy published a “roadmap” for preventing the most catastrophic climate change scenarios. One of its conclusions was particularly daunting. Getting energy-related emissions down to net zero by 2050, the International Energy Agency said, would require “huge leaps in innovation.”
Existing technologies would be mostly sufficient to carry us down the carbon curve over the next decade. But after that, nearly half of the remaining work would have to come from solutions that, for all intents and purposes, did not exist yet. Some would only require retooling existing industries, like developing electric long-haul trucks and carbon-free steel. But others would have to be built from almost nothing and brought to market in record time.
What will it take to rapidly develop new solutions, especially those that involve costly physical infrastructure and which have essentially no commercial value today?
That’s the challenge facing Climeworks, the Swiss company developing machines to wrest carbon dioxide molecules directly from the air. In September 2021, a few months after the IEA’s landmark report came out, Climeworks switched on its first commercial-scale “direct air capture” facility, a feat of engineering it dubbed “Orca,” in Iceland.
The technology behind Orca is one of the top candidates to clean up the carbon already blanketing the Earth. It could also be used to balance out any stubborn, residual sources of greenhouse gases in the future, such as from agriculture or air travel, providing the “net” in net-zero. If we manage to scale up technologies like Orca to the point where we remove more carbon than we release, we could even begin cooling the planet.
As the largest carbon removal plant operating in the world, Orca is either trivial or one of the most important climate projects built in the last decade, depending on how you look at it. It was designed to capture approximately 4,000 metric tons of carbon from the air per year, which, as one climate scientist, David Ho, put it, is the equivalent of rolling back the clock on just 3 seconds of global emissions. But the learnings gleaned from Orca could surpass any quantitative assessment of its impact. How well do these “direct air capture” machines work in the real world? How much does it really cost to run them? And can they get better?
The company — and its funders — are betting they can. Climeworks has made major deals with banks, insurers, and other companies trying to go green to eventually remove carbon from the atmosphere on their behalf. Last year, the company raised $650 million in equity that will “unlock the next phase of its growth,” scaling the technology “up to multi-million-ton capacity … as carbon removal becomes a trillion-dollar market.” And just last month, the U.S. Department of Energy selected Climeworks, along with another carbon removal company, Heirloom, to receive up to $600 million to build a direct air capture “hub” in Louisiana, with the goal of removing one million tons of carbon annually.
Two years after powering up Orca, Climeworks has yet to reveal how effective the technology has proven to be. But in extensive interviews, top executives painted a picture of innovation in progress.
Chief marketing officer Julie Gosalvez told me that Orca is small and climatically insignificant on purpose. The goal is not to make a dent in climate change — yet — but to maximize learning at minimal cost. “You want to learn when you're small, right?” Gosalvez said. “It’s really de-risking the technology. It’s not like Tesla doing EVs when we have been building cars for 70 years and the margin of learning and risk is much smaller. It’s completely new.”
From the ground, Orca looks sort of like a warehouse or a server farm with a massive air conditioning system out back. The plant consists of eight shipping container-sized boxes arranged in a U-shape around a central building, each one equipped with an array of fans. When the plant is running, which is more or less all the time, the fans suck air into the containers where it makes contact with a porous filter known as a “sorbent” which attracts CO2 molecules.

When the filters become totally saturated with CO2, the vents on the containers snap shut, and the containers are heated to more than 212 degrees Fahrenheit. This releases the CO2, which is then delivered through a pipe to a secondary process called “liquefaction,” where it is compressed into a liquid. Finally, the liquid CO2 is piped into basalt rock formations underground, where it slowly mineralizes into stone. The process requires a little bit of electricity and a lot of heat, all of which comes from a carbon-free source — a geothermal power plant nearby.
A day at Orca begins with the morning huddle. The total number on the team is often in flux, but it typically has a staff of about 15 people, Climeworks’ head of operations Benjamin Keusch told me. Ten work in a virtual control room 1,600 miles away in Zurich, taking turns monitoring the plant on a laptop and managing its operations remotely. The remainder work on site, taking orders from the control room, repairing equipment, and helping to run tests.
During the huddle, the team discusses any maintenance that needs to be done. If there’s an issue, the control room will shut down part of the plant while the on-site workers investigate. So far, they’ve dealt with snow piling up around the plant that had to be shoveled, broken and corroded equipment that had to be replaced, and sediment build-up that had to be removed.

The air is more humid and sulfurous at the site in Iceland than in Switzerland, where Climeworks had built an earlier, smaller-scale model, so the team is also learning how to optimize the technology for different weather. Within all this troubleshooting, there’s additional trade-offs to explore and lessons to learn. If a part keeps breaking, does it make more sense to plan to replace it periodically, or to redesign it? How do supply chain constraints play into that calculus?
The company is also performing tests regularly, said Keusch. For example, the team has tested new component designs at Orca that it now plans to incorporate into Climeworks’ next project from the start. (Last year, the company began construction on “Mammoth,” a new plant that will be nine times larger than Orca, on a neighboring site.) At a summit that Climeworks hosted in June, co-founder Jan Wurzbacher said the company believes that over the next decade, it will be able to make its direct air capture system twice as small and cut its energy consumption in half.
“In innovation lingo, the jargon is we haven’t converged on a dominant design,” Gregory Nemet, a professor at the University of Wisconsin who studies technological development, told me. For example, in the wind industry, turbines with three blades, upwind design, and a horizontal axis, are now standard. “There were lots of other experiments before that convergence happened in the late 1980s,” he said. “So that’s kind of where we are with direct air capture. There’s lots of different ways that are being tried right now, even within a company like Climeworks."
Although Climeworks was willing to tell me about the goings-on at Orca over the last two years, the company declined to share how much carbon it has captured or how much energy, on average, the process has used.
Gosalvez told me that the plant’s performance has improved month after month, and that more detailed information was shared with investors. But she was hesitant to make the data public, concerned that it could be misinterpreted, because tests and maintenance at Orca require the plant to shut down regularly.
“Expectations are not in line with the stage of the technology development we are at. People expect this to be turnkey,” she said. “What does success look like? Is it the absolute numbers, or the learnings and ability to scale?”
Danny Cullenward, a climate economist and consultant who has studied the integrity of various carbon removal methods, did not find the company’s reluctance to share data especially concerning. “For these earliest demonstration facilities, you might expect people to hit roadblocks or to have to shut the plant down for a couple of weeks, or do all sorts of things that are going to make it hard to transparently report the efficiency of your process, the number of tons you’re getting at different times,” he told me.
But he acknowledged that there was an inherent tension to the stance, because ultimately, Climeworks’ business model — and the technology’s effectiveness as a climate solution — depend entirely on the ability to make precise, transparent, carbon accounting claims.
Nemet was also of two minds about it. Carbon removal needs to go from almost nothing today to something like a billion tons of carbon removed per year in just three decades, he said. That’s a pace on the upper end of what’s been observed historically with other technologies, like solar panels. So it’s important to understand whether Climeworks’ tech has any chance of meeting the moment. Especially since the company faces competition from a number of others developing direct air capture technologies, like Heirloom and Occidental Petroleum, that may be able to do it cheaper, or faster.
However, Nemet was also sympathetic to the position the company was in. “It’s relatively incremental how these technologies develop,” he said. “I have heard this criticism that this is not a real technology because we haven’t built it at scale, so we shouldn’t depend on it. Or that one of these plants not doing the removal that it said it would do shows that it doesn’t work and that we therefore shouldn’t plan on having it available. To me, that’s a pretty high bar to cross with a climate mitigation technology that could be really useful.”
More data on Orca is coming. Climeworks recently announced that it will work with the company Puro.Earth to certify every ton of CO2 that it removes from the atmosphere and stores underground, in order to sell carbon credits based on this service. The credits will be listed on a public registry.
But even if Orca eventually runs at full capacity, Climeworks will never be able to sell 4,000 carbon credits per year from the plant. Gosalvez clarified that 4,000 tons is the amount of carbon the plant is designed to suck up annually, but the more important number is the amount of “net” carbon removal it can produce. “That might be the first bit of education you need to get out there,” she said, “because it really invites everyone to look at what are the key drivers to be paid attention to.”
She walked me through a chart that illustrated the various ways in which some of Orca’s potential to remove carbon can be lost. First, there’s the question of availability — how often does the plant have to shut down due to maintenance or power shortages? Climeworks aims to limit those losses to 10%. Next, there’s the recovery stage, where the CO2 is separated from the sorbent, purified, and liquified. Gosalvez said it’s basically impossible to do this without losing some CO2. At best, the company hopes to limit that to 5%.
Finally, the company also takes into account “gray emissions,” or the carbon footprint associated with the business, like the materials, the construction, and the eventual decommissioning of the plant and restoration of the site to its former state. If one of Climeworks’ plants ever uses energy from fossil fuels (which the company has said it does not plan to do) it would incorporate any emissions from that energy. Climeworks aims to limit gray emissions to 15%.
In the end, Orca’s net annual carbon removal capacity — the amount Climeworks can sell to customers — is really closer to 3,000 tons. Gosalvez hopes other carbon removal companies adopt the same approach. “Ultimately what counts is your net impact on the planet and the atmosphere,” she said.
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Despite being a first-of-its-kind demonstration plant — and an active research site — Orca is also a commercial project. In fact, Gosalvez told me that Orca’s entire estimated capacity for carbon removal, over the 12 years that the plant is expected to run, sold out shortly after it began operating. The company is now selling carbon removal services from its yet-to-be-built Mammoth plant.
In January, Climeworks announced that Orca had officially fulfilled orders from Microsoft, Stripe, and Shopify. Those companies have collectively asked Climeworks to remove more than 16,000 tons of carbon, according to the deal-tracking site cdr.fyi, but it’s unclear what portion of that was delivered. The achievement was verified by a third party, but the total amount removed was not made public.
Climeworks has also not disclosed how much it has charged companies per ton of carbon, a metric that will eventually be an important indicator of whether the technology can scale to a climate-relevant level. But it has provided rough estimates of how much it expects each ton of carbon removal to cost as the technology scales — expectations which seem to have shifted after two years of operating Orca.
In 2021, Climeworks co-founder Jan Wurzbacher said the company aimed to get the cost down to $200 to $300 per ton removed by the end of the decade, with steeper declines in subsequent years. But at the summit in June, he presented a new cost curve chart showing that the price was currently more than $1,000, and that by the end of the decade, it would fall to somewhere between $400 to $700. The range was so large because the cost of labor, energy, and storing the CO2 varied widely by location, he said. The company aims to get the price down to $100 to $300 per ton by 2050, when the technology has significantly matured.
Critics of carbon removal technologies often point to the vast sums flowing into direct air capture tech like Orca, which are unlikely to make a meaningful difference in climate change for decades to come. During a time when worsening disasters make action feel increasingly urgent, many are skeptical of the value of investing limited funds and political energy into these future solutions. Carbon removal won’t make much of a difference if the world doesn’t deploy the tools already available to reduce emissions as rapidly as possible — and there’s certainly not enough money or effort going into that yet.
But we’ll never have the option to fully halt climate change, let alone begin reversing it, if we don’t develop solutions like Orca. In September, the International Energy Agency released an update to its seminal net-zero report. The new analysis said that in the last two years, the world had, in fact, made significant progress on innovation. Now, some 65% of emission reductions after 2030 could be accounted for with technologies that had reached market uptake. It even included a line about the launch of Orca, noting that Climeworks’ direct air capture technology had moved from the prototype to the demonstration stage.
But it cautioned that DAC needs “to be scaled up dramatically to play the role envisaged,” in the net zero scenario. Climeworks’ experience with Orca offers a glimpse of how much work is yet to be done.
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Emails raise questions about who knew what and when leading up to the administration’s agreement with TotalEnergies.
The Trump administration justified its nearly $1 billion settlement agreement with TotalEnergies to effectively buy back the French company’s U.S. offshore wind leases by citing national security concerns raised by the Department of Defense. Emails obtained by House Democrats and viewed by Heatmap, however, seem to conflict with that story.
California Representative Jared Huffman introduced the documents into the congressional record on Wednesday during a hearing held by the House Natural Resources Committee’s Subcommittee on Oversight and Investigations.
“The national security justification appears to be totally fabricated, and fabricated after the fact,” Huffman said during the hearing. “DOI committed to paying Total nearly a billion dollars before it had concocted its justification of a national security issue.”
The email exchange Huffman cited took place in mid-November among officials at the Department of the Interior. On November 13, 2025, Christopher Danley, the deputy solicitor for energy and mineral resources, emailed colleagues in the Bureau of Ocean Energy Management and the secretary’s office an attachment with the name “DRAFT_Memorandum_of_Understanding.docx.”
According to Huffman’s office, the file was a document entitled “Draft Memorandum of Understanding Between the Department of the Interior and TotalEnergies Renewables USA, LLC on Offshore Wind Lease OCS-A 0545,” which refers to the company’s Carolina Long Bay lease. (The office said it could not share the document itself due to confidentiality issues.)
While the emails do not discuss the document further, the November date is notable. It suggests that the Interior Department had been negotiating a deal with Total before BOEM officials were briefed on the DOD’s classified national security concerns about offshore wind development.
Two Interior officials, Matthew Giacona, the acting director of BOEM, and Jacob Tyner, the deputy assistant secretary for land and minerals management, have testified in federal court that they reviewed a classified offshore wind assessment produced by the Department of Defense on November 26, 2025, and then were briefed on it again by department officials in early December. They submitted this testimony as part of a separate court case over a stop work order the agency issued to the Coastal Virginia Offshore wind project in December.
“After my review of DOW’s classified material with a secret designation,” Giacona wrote, “I determined that CVOW Project’s activities did not adequately provide for the protection of national security interests,” leading to his decision to suspend ongoing activities on the lease.
Giacona and Tyner are copied on the emails Huffman presented on Wednesday, indicating that the memorandum of understanding between Total and the Interior Department had been drafted and distributed prior to their reviewing the classified assessment.
The final agreement both parties signed on March 23, however, justifies the decision by citing a series of events that it portrays as taking place after officials learned of the DOD’s national security concerns.
The Interior Department paid Total out of the Judgment Fund, a permanently appropriated fund overseen by the Treasury Department with no congressional oversight that’s set aside to settle litigation or impending litigation. The final agreement describes the background for the settlement, beginning by stating that the Interior Department was going to suspend Total’s leases indefinitely based on the DOD’s classified findings, which “would have” led Total to file a legal claim for breach of contract. Rather than fight it out in court, Interior decided to settle this supposedly impending litigation, paying Total nearly $1 billion, in exchange for the company investing an equivalent amount into U.S. oil and gas projects.
But if the agency had been negotiating a deal with Total prior to being briefed on the national security assessment, it suggests that the deal was not predicated on a threat of litigation. During the hearing, Eddie Ahn, an attorney and the executive director of an environmental group called Brightline Defense, told Huffman that this opens the possibility for a legal challenge to the deal.
I should note one hiccup in this line of reasoning. Even though Interior officials testified that they were briefed on the Department of Defense’s assessment on November 26, this is not the first time the agency raised national security concerns about offshore wind. When BOEM issued a stop work order on Revolution Wind in August of last year, it said it was seeking to “address concerns related to the protection of national security interests of the United States.”
During the hearing, Huffman called out additional concerns his office had about the settlement. He said the amount the Interior Department paid Total — a full reimbursement of the company’s original lease payment — has no basis in the law. “Federal law sets a specific formula for the compensation a company can get when the government cancels an offshore lease,” he said, adding that the settlement was for “far more.” He also challenged a clause in the agreement that purports to protect both parties from legal liability.
Huffman and several of his fellow Democrats also highlighted the Trump administration’s latest use of the Judgment Fund — to create a new $1.8 billion legal fund to issue “monetary relief” to citizens who claim they were unfairly targeted by the Biden administration, such as those charged in connection with the January 6 riot.
“Now we know that that was just the beginning,” Maxine Dexter of Oregon said. “This president’s fraudulent use of the judgment fund is the most consequential and damning abuse of taxpayer funds happening right now.”
The effort brings together leaders of four Mountain West states with nonprofit policy expertise to help speed financing and permitting for development.
Geothermal is so hot right now. And bipartisan.
Long regarded as the one form of electricity generation everyone in Washington can agree on (it’s both carbon-free and borrows techniques, equipment, and personnel from the oil and gas industry), the technology got yet another shot in the arm last week when leading next-generation geothermal company Fervo raised almost $2 billion by selling shares in an initial public offering.
Now, a coalition of western states and nonprofits is coming together to work on the policy and economics of fostering more successful geothermal projects.
Governor Jared Polis of Colorado and Governor Spencer Cox of Utah will announce the formation of the Mountain West Geothermal Consortium this afternoon at a press conference in Salt Lake City.
The consortium brings together governors, regulators, and energy policy staffers from those two states and their Mountain West neighbors Arizona and New Mexico, along with staffing and organizational help from two nonprofits, the Center for Public Enterprise and Constructive, both of which employ former Department of Energy staffers.
The consortium will help coordinate permitting, financing, and offtake agreements for geothermal projects. This could include assistance with permitting on state-level issues like water usage, attracting public dollars to geothermal projects, and upgrading geophysical data to guide geothermal development.
Michael O’Connor, a former DOE staffer who worked on the department’s geothermal programs, is the director of the consortium. He told me that the organization has done financial and geotechnical modeling to entice funding for earlier stage geothermal development that traditional project finance investors have seen as too high-risk.
“We think that the public sector should be a part of the capital stack, and so what we’re trying to do is build investment programs that leverage the state’s ability to provide the early concessionary capital and match that with private sector capital,” O’Connor said. “The consortium has done a whole bunch of financial modeling around this, and we’re now working with energy offices to build that into actual programs where they can start funding.”
The consortium is also trying to make it easier for utilities to agree to purchase power from new geothermal developments, O’Connor said. This includes helping utilities model the performance of geothermal resources over time so that they can be included more easily in utilities’ integrated resource plans.
“Most Western utilities either have no data to incorporate geothermal into their IRPs, or the data they’re using is generalized and 15 years old,” O’Connor told me. This type of data is easy to find for, say, natural gas or solar, but has not existed until recently for geothermal.
“Offtakers want the same kind of assurance that infrastructure investors want,” O’Connor said. “Everyone wants a guaranteed asset, and it takes a little bit more time and effort.”
The third area the consortium is working on is permitting. Many geothermal projects are located on land managed by the Bureau of Land Management, and therefore have to go through a federal permitting process. There are also state-specific permitting issues, most notably around water, a perennially contentious and complicated issue in the West.
How water is regulated for drilling projects varies state by state, creating an obstacle course that can be difficult for individual firms to navigate as they expand across the thermally rich intermountain west. “You’re always working with this sort of cross-jurisdictional permitting landscape,” Fervo policy chief Ben Serrurier told me. “Anytime you’re going to introduce a new technology to that picture, it raises questions about how well it fits and what needs to be updated and changed.”
Fervo — which sited its flagship commercial geothermal plant in Cape Station, Utah — has plenty of experience with these issues, and has signed on as an advisor to the consortium. “How do we work with states across the West who are all very eager to have geothermal development but, aren’t really sure about how to go about supporting and embracing, encouraging this new resource?” Serrurier asked. “This is policymakers and regulators in the West, at the state level, working together towards a much broader industry transformation.”
The Center for Public Enterprise, a consortium member think tank that works on public sector capacity-building, released a paper in April sketching out the idea for the group and arguing that coordinated state policy could bring forward projects that have already demonstrated technological feasibility. The paper called for states to “create new tools to support catalytic public investment in and financing for next-generation geothermal.”
Like many geothermal policy efforts, the geothermal consortium is a bipartisan affair that builds on a record of western politicians collaborating across party lines to advance geothermal development.
“There is sort of this idea that the West is an area that we collectively are still building, and there is still this idea of collaboration against challenging elements and solving unique problems,” Serrurier said.
Cox, a Republican, told Heatmap in a statement: “Utah is working to double power production over the next decade and build the energy capacity our state will need for generations. Geothermal energy is a crucial part of that future, and Utah is proud to be a founding member of the Mountain West Geothermal Consortium.”
Polis, a Democrat, said, “Colorado is a national leader in renewable energy, and geothermal can provide always-on, clean, domestic energy to power our future. Colorado is proud to partner on a bipartisan basis with states across the region to found the Mountain West Geothermal Consortium.”
O’Connor concurred with Fervo’s Serrurier. “Western states are better at working together on ’purple issues’ than most states,” he told me.
In this moment, O’Connor said, the issue at hand is largely one of coordinating and harmonizing across states, utilities, and developers. “Several pieces of good timing have fallen upon the industry at this moment, which has led to a positive news cycle,” he told me. “Making sure that gets to scale now means we have to solve thorny or bigger dollar problems — and that’s why we’re here.
“We’re not an R&D organization,” he added, referring to the consortium. “We’re here to get over the hurdles of financing and of offtake and of regulatory reform.”
The founder of one-time sustainable apparel company Zady argues that policy is the only that can push the industry toward more responsible practices.
Everlane’s reported sale to Shein has left many shocked and saddened. How could the millennial “radical transparency” fashion brand be absorbed by the company that has become shorthand for ultra-fast fashion? While I feel for the team within the company that cares about impact reduction, I am not surprised by the news.
Everlane was built around a theory of change that was always too small for the problem it claimed to address — that better brands and more conscientious consumers could redirect a coal-powered, chemically intensive, globally fragmented industry.
The theory had real appeal, but it was wrong. Yes, it created some better products, but it was never going to remake the fashion industry on its own.
This is the tension at the center of sustainable fashion: Consumer demand can create a niche, even a meaningful one, but it cannot reconfigure the economics of global supply chains. What is needed are common sense laws that require all significant players to play by the same basic rules: reduce emissions, ban toxic chemicals, and maintain basic labor standards.
A company I used to run, Zady, was an early competitor to Everlane, and we were part of the same cultural and commercial moment. When we raised money, we told investors that while our Boomer parents may have thought that changing the world meant marching on the streets, we knew better. Change was going to happen through business.
The problem was that, while our market was growing, fast fashion was growing faster. There was a small but passionate group of consumers trying to buy better, but the overall system drove companies to produce more — more units, more emissions, more chemicals, and more waste.
The truth is that brands do not have direct control over the environmental impacts of their products. Most of the emissions and applications of chemicals are not happening at the brand level, but are instead in fiber production, textile mills, dyehouses, finishing facilities, and laundries, all of which the brands do not own. These factories operate on the thinnest of margins, and the open secret is that brands share these suppliers. No one brand wants to pay the cost for their shared factories to make the necessary upgrades to address their impacts. It’s a classic collective action problem.
Everlane’s capital story matters here, too. Unless a founder arrives with substantial personal wealth, outside investment is often the only path to scale. A company can remain small, independent, and slow-growing, but then it will likely be more expensive, more limited in reach, and less able to influence factories.
Everlane chose the other path. It took institutional growth capital from storied venture firms more closely associated with the digital revolution (including some that also fund clean energy technologies) and became a recognizable national brand. This obligated the company to operate inside a financial structure that leads inexorably toward some kind of exit, whether through a sale, an initial public offering, or some other liquidity event. Once that is the operating system, sustainability can remain a real and important goal, but it is not the final governing logic — investor return is.
“Radical transparency” was never enough to solve the fashion industry’s or venture capital model’s structural problems. Naming a factory is not the same as knowing what happens inside it. Publishing a supplier list does not tell us whether the facility runs on coal, whether wastewater is treated before being released back into the ecosystem, or whether restricted substances are present in dyes, finishes, trims, or coatings.
We already have many forms of transparency in American capitalism. Public companies, for example, are required to disclose executive compensation and the average pay of their workers; this transparency has done exactly nothing to close the pay gap. A disclosure is not the same thing as a legal standard.
So what does this mean for all of us? We don’t know exactly how Shein will absorb Everlane. I could guess that this is a Quince play for Shein, a way to access higher-end consumers that would otherwise never go on the Shein site.
What this tragicomedy reveals is that the idea born from Obama-era optimism, that the arc of history naturally bends toward justice and sustainability, was ephemeral.
The work to make this coal-powered industry sustainable will come from regulation. The technology to decarbonize is there, and unlike with aviation, for instance, it would cost the apparel industry a mere 2 cents per cotton t-shirt to get it done. But unlike with aviation, there are no requirements or incentives that these investments be made, so they are not.
The electric vehicle industry got a head start through direct subsidies and fuel efficiency standards. Apparel needs the same.
If you’re disappointed or angry about this turn of events, I ask you to channel those feelings into citizenship. Help pass the New York or California Fashion Acts that would require all large fashion companies that sell into the states to reduce their emissions and ban toxic chemicals. It’s currently legal to have lead on adult clothing, and Shein is consistently found to have it on their products. The industry is pushing back through their trade associations, so people power is needed so that legislators know it needs to be their priority.
But if you want to shop sustainably, you don’t need a brand. What is most helpful is understanding your own style and lifestyle — that’s how we know what we actually need and what we don’t. There are apps to help on that front. (I love Indyx, for instance, but there are others.)
The only way forward is together, and that means political solutions — emissions requirements, chemical requirements, labor requirements — not just consumer ones.