The Hidden Cost of Fashion: My Mother's Life as a Seamstress
In this powerful and deeply personal piece, Cindy Lin takes us behind the scenes of the fashion industry, revealing the hidden human cost of the clothes we wear. Growing up as the daughter of an immigrant seamstress, Cindy witnessed firsthand the harsh realities of sweatshop labor. Through her journey from ignorance to advocacy, she sheds light on the exploitation and economic injustice faced by garment workers worldwide. This piece is not only an eye-opening exposé but also a call to action for consumers to rethink their fashion choices and help create a more ethical industry.
Editor’s Note: Cindy is a participant in Fashion Talk's Summer 2024 Student Writing Program. Aligned with our mission to uplift young voices in the fashion industry, I’m excited to share her fresh and insightful perspective with our community.
Happy reading,
Amarissa
Host & Editor-in-Chief, Fashion Talk
A Personal Story
Fashion is often celebrated as both art and a form of self-expression. When you look good, you feel good; but beneath the vibrant fabrics and sleek designs lies a grim reality—a story of human suffering, exploitation, and resilience.
Many of the clothes we wear are stitched together with blood, sweat, and tears—stories of seamstresses enduring inhumane sweatshop conditions, their lives worlds apart from the beauty and glamor that fashion promotes.
For me, this issue isn't hypothetical or abstract. It’s deeply personal, rooted in my own experiences as the daughter of an immigrant seamstress.
Growing up, I followed my mother to her workplace at Mado Fashion Inc. in Philadelphia until I was 10 years old. I was only five when I first started going with her, but I vividly remember the grueling 60+ hour work weeks, short unpaid lunch breaks, lack of temperature regulation, and basic safety measures, along with the meager pay that barely kept our family afloat.
Watching my mother toil away, unable to take sick days or vacations, shaped my understanding of the hidden cost of fashion.
Desiring Change and Finding a Path
For most of my childhood, I believed that sweatshop conditions were normal. It wasn’t until 8th grade at McCall school, when my class participated in the NeedInDeed project on “Human Rights Violations in Clothing Industries,” that I realized how widespread this issue truly was. We watched the documentary, The True Cost, a haunting exploration of the global fast fashion industry, and I learned for the first time that people were dying for the clothes we wear.
We hosted a fashion show in our auditorium to highlight the origin of our clothes from fast fashion brands like Primark, Zara, and H&M. Each student shared facts about the injustices faced by workers in global garment factories to raise awareness and advocate for change.
As part of our effort, we partnered with Greene Street, a consignment shop on South Street near our school, offering tangible solutions by promoting thrifting. This experience ignited a deep desire in me to advocate for the rights of the millions of garment makers around the world who endure similar conditions.
The realization that people die for our clothes haunted me for years. It pushed me to seek a change, but I struggled with not knowing how. Sustainable products are a luxury that many couldn’t afford, including my family, who came from nothing when they immigrated here.
Yet, I couldn’t shake the persistent belief that change was possible. The experience set me on a personal journey to advocate for seamstresses like my mother and to challenge the injustices woven into every fast-fashion thread.
Exploitation and Economic Injustice: The Dark Reality Behind the Label
Despite their vital role in the fashion industry, garment worker exploitation remains rampant, with immigrant women being especially vulnerable and their contributions and voices often ignored.
My mother was no exception. I remember the long nights she would come home exhausted, her body aching from hours spent hunched over a sewing machine. Since demand was too high, she had to invest in an industrial Juki sewing machine to finish pieces at home—unpaid.
But, she and her coworkers kept going, not because they didn’t want more, but because they didn’t believe they could have more.
Since 2015, Mado Inc. has faced numerous violations from the Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA), primarily for “workplace safety/health violation”. After long hours of grueling work there, my mother would come home and immediately begin cooking for our family, with little to no time for resting. I felt her pain and helplessness through the back massages I gave her in hopes of offering some temporary relief before work the next day. Yet, like so many others, she persisted—because the alternative was worse: no job and no means of survival.
The physical and emotional toll was immense, yet the rewards rarely met even the bare minimum. Conversations with my mother about driving change were quickly dismissed as unrealistic, mere wishful thinking. Decades of hopelessness had, unfortunately, become ingrained in their mindsets.
I believe my mother couldn’t allow herself to entertain the idea of better working conditions, seeing it as an unattainable fantasy in a reality where such improvements felt impossible.
In the U.S., many garment workers earn far below minimum wage. In Los Angeles, for example, they make as little as $2.68 per hour. Overseas, the conditions are even worse, with unsafe factories, exposure to toxic chemicals, and forced overtime leading to countless deaths. The 2013 Rana Plaza collapse in Dhaka, Bangladesh, is a tragic example of this exploitation—1,134 lives, including children, were lost in a single day.
This disaster, which could have been prevented, occurred because workers were forced into a building with visible, dangerous cracks, a result of the systemic neglect of workers in favor of profit. The Rana Plaza housed five garment factories that made clothing for international brands like Primark, Walmart, JCPenney, Children’s Place, Zara, Mango, Joe Fresh, and more.
This story of 13-year-old Meem, who worked in a Bangladesh sweatshop, brings this exploitation—including child labor—into sharp focus. Meem was pulled out of school to replace her pregnant mother to work from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., earning barely $25 each month to support her family. “It was back-breaking, finger-numbing, and particularly rage-inducing,” she told undercover reporters. Stories like Meem’s underscore the urgent need for fashion brands to enforce ethical labor practices.
Health Toll: The Hidden Physical and Mental Cost
Beyond economic exploitation, the toll on worker’s health is devastating. For my mother, it wasn’t just her body that suffered—the relentless pressure to meet impossible quotas took a profound mental toll as well. Many workers endure chronic muscle pain and long-term injuries from repetitive tasks.
Even more concerning, exposure to toxic chemicals in textile production often leads to respiratory issues and skin diseases. The strain of long hours, inadequate pay, and constant pressure to meet deadlines fuel high levels of anxiety, stress, and depression.
Despite the grueling conditions, I witnessed incredible resilience within those sweatshop walls. The shared burden of pain and the weight of pressure forged unbreakable life-long bonds between the strong-willed women.
Together, they transformed their harsh environment into a supportive community, lifting each other through small acts of kindness—sharing food, exchanging clothes, and offering strength in every gesture. These women turned moments of hardship into opportunities to connect, preserving their Fujianese cultural traditions and finding strength in solidarity.
This compassion and sense of unity, even in the face of such cruelty, is something I aspire to carry with me every day, sharing it with others whenever and however I can.
A Glimmer of Hope: The Ethical Fashion Movement
Though the fashion industry’s injustices may feel overwhelming, a growing movement offers hope—the rise of the ethical fashion movement. Brands championing fair labor practices and ethical production are proving that transparency and responsibility aren’t just possible—they’re powerful selling points.
My first purchase from Sami Miro Vintage was transformative. Slipping on their Safety Pin Mesh Cardigan—crafted from recycled nylon—I felt a profound shift. Fashion was no longer just about the fit or style to me, but the connection I felt in making a real impact.
For the first time, I wasn't just a passive consumer contributing to harmful practices. I became part of the solution, joining a movement to reshape fashion’s narrative.
Sami Miro Vintage is a Los Angeles-based brand committed to eco-consciousness. By maintaining their entire supply chain within a 15-mile radius and using locally sourced deadstock, vintage fabrics, and chemical-free materials, they minimize environmental impact while supporting the local economy.
What resonates most with me is their commitment to ensuring fair wages and safe working conditions for their family-owned sewing partners—luxuries my mother didn’t have the chance to experience.
The contrast between Sami Miro Vintage and Mado Fashion Inc. is stark. SMV’s philosophy of care and respect—for both the Earth and its workers—stands in striking opposition, serving as a powerful example of what the industry could and should be.
Investing in that cardigan wasn’t just a bold fashion choice; it was an act of resistance, a statement that alternatives to the cruelty woven in fast fashion exist.
Brands like SMV, Known Supply, Reformation, Patagonia, and Everlane are proving that beautiful, long-lasting garments can be produced without exploitation. They sell clothes with integrity, ensuring that the people behind them are treated with dignity. These companies embrace transparency, offer living wages, and commit to sustainability.
Ethical production is not only achievable but also profitable.
For example, Patagonia’s “Living Wage” program and Everlane’s public disclosure of the true cost of its garments demonstrate how ethical practices add value by ensuring fair treatment of workers. Similarly, Known Supply builds trust by sharing the origins, identities, and stories of the people who make their products. Consumers increasingly value knowing who made their clothes and where they came from.
Ultimately, these brands show us a future where fashion isn’t just about what we wear—it’s about how we treat the world and each other.
Moreover, the rise of second-hand platforms like Depop, Poshmark, and ThredUp signals a broader cultural shift towards more mindful consumption. People are beginning to realize that the true cost of fashion extends far beyond the price tag.
Transparency, once a niche concern, and sustainability, once just a buzzword, have evolved into critical factors in purchasing decisions. Consumers are becoming more aware of the full impact of their clothing choices and shopping habits. Movements like Fashion Revolution’s #WhoMadeMyClothes and the Clean Clothes Campaign have empowered shoppers to question brands more rigorously, demanding accountability that goes beyond mere aesthetics.
For brands, transparency is no longer just a selling point; it’s a way to foster trust and build stronger connections with consumers and makers. As shoppers, we are becoming more aware of the intersection between transparency, ethical practices, and product quality.
By making more conscious choices and holding brands accountable, we can push for human rights in fashion and create a landscape that values both workers and the planet.
Why This Fight Matters: A Personal Commitment to Change
Fashion has always been more than just clothes to me—it’s about identity, expression, and connection. Now, as I study Fashion Industry and Merchandising at Drexel University, I am deeply committed to building a career focused on ethical and sustainable sourcing through product development.
My mother’s story, along with the stories of millions of workers like her, has fueled my determination to challenge the industry and drive meaningful change from within.
By sharing personal stories like my mother’s and advocating for systemic reform, I believe we can reshape the fashion industry—one decision at a time. Acknowledging and sharing the harsh truths behind our clothes empowers us to leave unethical practices behind as we push toward a fairer, more sustainable future.
My vision is a future where workers are no longer invisible but recognized as the essential creators they are—valued for their contributions and treated with the dignity they deserve.
The Power is in Our Hands. What Story will Your Wardrobe Tell?
Fashion isn’t just about what we wear—it’s about the lives we touch with every purchase and the impact we can make on the world through each one. As consumers, we collectively hold the power to demand better and do better.
Every choice we make is a vote for the kind of world we want to live in.
By repurposing old products, thrifting, upcycling, supporting ethical brands, reducing our consumption of fast fashion, and demanding transparency, we can help shift the industry towards more humane and sustainable practices.
We, as individuals, single-handedly hold the power to reduce the fast fashion impact and reshape the fashion narrative—not just for the sake of aesthetics, but for the sake of humanity.
We can choose a future where the clothes we wear tell stories of respect, equality, and integrity—where every seamstress works in safe, humane conditions, and where the true cost of fashion is something we can all proudly support. A future where every garment reflects the dignity of the hands that made it. Where you can look good, and truly feel good.
Will you continue to support brands that exploit workers and harm the environment, or will you choose a future where fashion reflects values of respect, dignity, and equality?
The power is in our hands. What story will your wardrobe tell?
Contributing edits by our summer ‘24 program volunteer Lauren Corcoran, with final oversight by
, Founder & Editor-in-Chief of Fashion Talk.Get to know Cindy here.
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