For fashion executives, the secondhand clothing trade has long been positioned as a win-win. Consumers clear their wardrobes, charities raise funds, garments get a second life and brands can point to reuse as part of a more circular system.
But new research from RMIT University suggests the story is far more complicated.
In a webinar hosted by Hiroshima University’s Network for Education and Research on Peace and Sustainability, Professor Alice Payne and Dr. Alice Lewis presented findings from Textile Terrains, an interdisciplinary research project examining the environmental impacts of global secondhand clothing flows.
Their findings clearly show fashion’s waste problem does not disappear when a garment is donated. It often just moves. And this is the crux of the issue, according to Payne, who serves as dean of RMIT University’s School of Fashion and Textiles.
“Across the Global South, a new kind of landscape is emerging,” Payne said. “River channels, flood plains and coastlines once ecologically alive are now layered with discarded garments.”
The researchers call these places “textile terrains,” landscapes shaped by the overflow of global fashion consumption, especially discarded clothing exported from wealthier countries to lower-income markets.
“These terrains are real,” Payne said. “They are visible in satellite imagery, in drone footage and in the lives of those who work with them. Yet politically, these terrains and the global flows of secondhand clothing that produce them remain invisible and obscured.”
Ultimately, it raises questions about widely accepted assumptions about circularity, the effectiveness of extended producer responsibility (EPR) models and about where responsibility truly ends.
The Accountability Gap in Fashion’s Circular Economy
The concept of a circular economy is now deeply embedded in fashion’s sustainability agenda. While the goal of keeping products and materials in use for as long as possible, minimizing waste and reducing demand for virgin resources is straightforward, Payne argues that current circularity frameworks often overlook a critical reality.
“Our findings really point to critical gaps in this thinking between where responsibility is legislated and where the waste materializes,” Payne said.
The issue is not that circularity initiatives are ineffective. Rather, most have been designed within national or regional boundaries, while the fashion system itself operates globally.
A garment collected in Australia, the United States or Europe may pass through multiple sorting hubs before reaching a resale market in Ghana, Chile or Pakistan. While some pieces find new owners, others arrive damaged, unsuitable for local demand or simply in volumes that exceed what markets can absorb.
Those garments often become waste far from the countries where they were originally purchased and discarded.
The result is an accountability gap. Brands increasingly track collection volumes, resale rates and recycling outcomes within their own markets, but visibility often fades once products enter global secondhand trade networks.
“Responsibility stops at the border,” Payne said.
For fashion executives accustomed to measuring circularity through take-back rates and diversion-from-landfill metrics, the observation is a significant one. It suggests that many existing KPIs may not fully capture downstream impacts.
Circularity Is Also a Governance Problem
The researchers argue that fashion’s circular economy challenge is not simply about improving recycling technology or increasing resale participation. It is also about how responsibility is defined—and who bears the cost when systems fail.
A key example lies in international waste regulation.
Under current frameworks, secondhand clothing is generally not classified as waste if it retains commercial value. That distinction allows garments to move freely through global trade networks as reusable goods.
But the reality on the ground can look very different.
“What we’ve seen and what we’ve shown through our tracking and through the landscapes that we’ve visualized is that they become waste in place,” Payne said.
In other words, clothing may be exported as a product but arrive as waste.
“This legal blind spot allows exporting countries to frame the trade as solely for reuse or charity even though the material outcome is disposal as well as reuse,” Payne said.
For brands, the implication is becoming increasingly relevant as regulators scrutinize sustainability claims and circularity programs. Demonstrating that products have been collected is no longer enough. Increasingly, stakeholders will ask what happened next.
The challenge is particularly acute as EPR schemes expand across Europe and other markets.
EPR programs require producers to contribute financially to the collection, sorting and management of products at end of life. The model has gained significant momentum because it follows the “polluter pays” principle and creates funding for circular infrastructure.
Yet according to Payne, most EPR systems remain geographically constrained.
Producer fees are typically collected and spent within the jurisdictions where the programs operate. Meanwhile, the environmental burden created by exported clothing may be experienced elsewhere.
That disconnect is prompting some researchers to push for a more expansive approach.
The Rise of Ultimate Producer Responsibility
Borrowed from emerging conversations around electronic waste, Ultimate Producer Responsibility (UPR) would extend accountability beyond national borders.
Under the model, fees collected from producers would not remain solely in domestic markets. Instead, some portion would flow to communities that ultimately manage the environmental and social impacts associated with products at end of life.
“These levies are not only distributed within the country they’re collected in, but they’re distributed to the global communities that are ultimately bearing the cost of the end-of-life impacts of these products,” Payne explained.
The concept remains largely theoretical. There are no large-scale fashion examples in operation today.
Still, the proposal reflects a broader shift underway in sustainability policy. Regulators, NGOs and researchers are increasingly moving away from a narrow focus on product ownership and toward a more expansive understanding of supply chain accountability.
For brands, that could eventually mean responsibility extending well beyond collection targets and recycling commitments.
And it could mean compensating communities saddled with unwanted clothing.
As EPR programs mature, UPR is precisely the kind of policy conversation that could gain traction.
The Industry’s Overproduction Problem
Perhaps the most important takeaway for fashion executives is that the researchers do not view secondhand trade itself as the core problem.
In fact, both Payne and Dr. Alice Lewis repeatedly emphasized the value these markets create.
Across importing countries, secondhand clothing ecosystems support entrepreneurs, retailers, repair specialists, tailors, cleaners, dyers and logistics workers. They provide affordable clothing options while generating livelihoods for thousands of people.
“It’s not all bad,” said Lewis, whose work and teaching at RMIT focuses on landscape architecture. “It’s an incredibly complex space.”
Too often, discussions about textile waste become polarized between defenders and critics of secondhand trade. The researchers instead argue for a more balanced perspective that recognizes both economic benefits and environmental costs.
At the same time, they were clear about what ultimately drives the problem.
“There’s simply far too much clothing being produced at the front end,” Payne said.
Fashion has become increasingly effective at finding secondary pathways for garments. Resale is booming. Repair services are expanding. Textile recycling investment continues to grow. But none of those solutions can fully offset a system that continues to generate new products at extraordinary speed.
The researchers warned that without addressing production volumes, even the most sophisticated circular economy frameworks risk becoming overwhelmed.
“We can’t have this neat circle if we don’t actually tackle the rising amount of clothing flowing into the system as new clothing to begin with,” Payne said.
What Comes Next
Ultimately, Payne and Lewis noted the industry’s next phase of sustainability work will require greater transparency and deeper collaboration.
Lewis highlighted another area that deserves more attention: labor.
Throughout the secondhand ecosystem—from collection and sorting to repair, resale and waste management—workers play an essential role in extending garment life and creating value from discarded products.
“We’ve really discovered just how vital every member along this whole chain is in making the movement of clothing possible,” she said.
That observation points toward a broader evolution in how fashion thinks about circularity.
The first generation of circularity initiatives focused heavily on materials, including recycling fibers, recovering resources and keeping products in circulation. The next generation may need to focus just as much on governance, accountability and equity.
