When I was a little girl — maybe 6 or 7, I created my first zero-waste garment. In fact, it was negative waste, because I used an already pre-existing textile object — my homemade and quilted blanky. I loved my blanky so much that I wanted to wear it (the highest honor to bestow on any fabric in my opinion). So, I found a pair of scissors and made a cut in the middle for my head and slipped it on. With my new blanky poncho surrounding me, I felt secure and happy. My hands were free to play, I could show off my most prized possession, and I knew I looked amazing! Thus my affection for the design combination of simple form, specialty fabrics and practical wear was born.
I am not a fashion historian or an archivist but I have noticed many similarities of both design and textile reverence in the traditional costumes of cultures all over the world, especially in historical times when fabric was handwoven and a limited resource. This article is not meant as a history lesson, simply the observations of an interested and well-read party. With that, let’s continue on with this article of admittedly limited scope — one that will hopefully pique your interest in zero waste sewing and design.
The concept of “Zero Waste” sewing and design is simple: to use every inch of available fabric, with nothing left over. Measured rectangles, squares and triangles are the “pattern pieces”, often drawn onto the fabric instead of laid on or traced.
The examples below are joined by a common thread (I couldn’t resist). In all cases, the fabrics and textiles used are imbued with cultural signifiers. Gender, class, and regional references are literally woven into the fabric, transforming the humble rectangle into the unique story and identity of the wearer.
When I think of traditional zero waste garments, the first that come to mind are the sarong, tunic, poncho, and robe. All of these garments are staples throughout history and currently in the (problematic) form of high-fashion items. (Go ahead and google ‘Gucci Poncho’!)
One truly waste-free example must be the sarong. The sarong is a length of fabric wrapped around the waist or over the bust. Not a pattern, per se because there is no cutting involved. However, it illustrates the nature of many no-waste traditional garments that put regional and culturally-specific textiles front and center.
The traditional garment I am most inspired by (as illustrated by my blanky fashion) is the poncho— traditionally worn by men. Born out of the Andes of Chile, the poncho is a simple garment that celebrates culturally rich handwoven textiles while allowing the wearer the warmth and the mobility to work out of doors. A simple garment, it is a rectangle or square of handwoven textile with a slit in the center for the head to slip through.
Continuing on our exploration of Mesoamerican traditional garments, the huipil is a Mayan garment traditionally worn by women and girls. The variety shown here are examples of huipils from the highlands of Guatemala, where thicker, warmer fabrics are used. The huipil is also a basic rectangle, folded in half at the shoulder, with a square or small rounded head opening and side seam openings to create sleeves that cover the shoulder. Colorful, intricate and region specific embroidery is featured on these garments, concentrated at the neckline.
Moving on to West Africa, we find traditional handwoven indigo textiles. The woven textiles are often sewn together at the salvages to create large swaths of fabric. In the photo below are three examples of a tunic type garment (similar garments are found throughout Africa, with important differences including name and significance). As you can see, the textile itself, and the sheer volume of the garment are a celebration of artistry and cultural importance.
Let’s go far from the southern hemisphere and back to the time of the Vikings to see an example of zero-waste design.
In this example, only a small rounded neckline is cut out, and the rest of the fabric divided into simple shapes. All are utilized to form the garment. The rectangular front and back of the bodice form the front and back, while truncated triangles form the sleeves. Narrow triangular pieces form gussets sewn under the arm for ease of movement.
Moving to the island nation of Japan, we see an example of historical men’s costume. In this example, the pieces again are squares and rectangles. The bodice is a simple shape, but the dramatic proportion of the sleeves sets this garment apart from other similar garments we have seen so far.
In this example, the textile denotes both gender and nobility — woven in a white silk representing the divine origin of the wearer. Again, note the cultural significance of the textile itself.
As you approach Zero Waste sewing, I encourage you to reflect on and draw inspiration from (please do not appropriate) the idea of making the textile itself the star. By utilizing zero waste design and concepts, specialty fabric is allowed to shine and the “preciousness” of our favorite and most coveted fabrics can be utilized to their full extent. For the dyers, painters and hand sewers, these types of garments make excellent canvasses on which to showcase embellishment and technique. Instead of interpreting voluminous squares as “shapelessness” consider them as a luxurious and dramatic way in which to envelop the body.
Editor’s note: Cris encouraged our readers to reflect on and draw inspiration from rather than appropriating the culturally-specific textiles in this post. If you would like to learn more about appropriation versus appreciation, this Sewcialists post and this resource from AORTA are a great place to start.
Cris Wood is a Zero/Minimal waste pattern designer with a penchant for sewing oversize squares into garments and pattern mixing. She currently lives in Seattle with her husband and young son, spending most of her time in the sewing room. Her website is criswoodsews.com.
Thank you for your interesting post. ….. but I don’t think we should read into historical garments some kind of ethos which wasn’t originally there. The historical zero waste garments you have highlighted were made from simple shapes probably because sewing machines, rotary cutters, good needles, accessible patterns, thread etc were not available at the time. Now we have those things we can make better stuff and I do not wish to go backwards.
Ooh, and kilts, right? They’re also a rectangle. Off to do a bit of research myself now! Thanks for an interesting post!
lovely post – especially your wearable blanky….. i have always admired the simplicity of the sarrong, as it really show the fabric off.
not quite related – I got a very cute book in the thrift store about 20 years ago, its a 70s ‘simple clothes and how to make them’ by Kerstin Lokrantz, its a slim paper back – it goes through a lot of traditional clothes, peasant blouses, artist smock, poncho, moccasins (and duffle coats and parkas) and shows the patterns. I probably liked the way its a no nonsense diy book with a can do approach (reminding me again of your blanky!)
Thank you for an enjoyable read! Yes, I think reflecting on and celebrating the fabric is something we should do more of 🙂
Thank for your well written overview of garments made with zero waste throughout history. It is obvious that sewing green and preserving the earth’s ecology was not the intent of the makers but more utilizing the width of every inch of the beautiful hand woven fabrics in the widths traditional to their cultures. These are lovely examples and they inspire but I won’t be appropriating my style to that of those shown nor more contemporary versions of rectangular fashion. Zero waste sewing is preaching to the choir when it comes to sewists. We save, pass on, reuse everything in our sewing resources. I can see, however, it’s appeal to newer sewists as it is so easy to sew, no closures, straight lines, etc. Will the current fashions and patterns I see in ZW sewing define a culture as we see in the great photos above? I think not. Let’s hold the fashion industry and it’s manufacturer to higher green standards and really make a difference.