There’s this idea, pushed hard by schools, by careers advisers, by university brochures; that if you want to work in fashion, especially sustainable fashion, you need to go and get the degree. Spend £60k, move to London or Manchester, pay £200 a week for a shoebox, and hustle your way through three years of late nights and unpaid internships just to maybe land a job that still underpays you. And if you’re working class or global majority, you’re meant to be grateful you even got a seat at the table.
But what if you don’t want the table? What if you don’t even want to sit down?
The truth is, some of the most impactful people working in sustainable fashion right now didn’t go the “traditional” route. And thank God. Because the planet doesn’t need more fashion insiders who learned how to greenwash an entire capsule collection in a PowerPoint. It needs creatives who know what it means to reuse, to upcycle, to build something out of waste. People with lived experience. People who had to make their own prom outfit because their parents couldn’t afford to buy one. People who learned to sew from their nan, not Central Saint Martins (nothing against them though as they are incredibly talented.)
But sustainability isn’t and shouldn't just be a buzzword, it’s a skill. And that means the industry desperately needs voices from beyond the academic institutions. But right now, the way fashion’s structured makes that hard. Even internships at “ethical” brands still ask for degrees. Application forms still ask what uni you went to. Networking events are full of people who already have connections. And it makes you think, “Am I even meant to be here?”.
But you are. And you’re not alone. There are so many ways into sustainable fashion that don’t involve uni. Apprenticeships are one. They don’t get enough love, probably because they don’t look as shiny on the ‘gram. But they teach you how to actually make things. How to construct garments. How to understand materials. How to run a studio. And unlike a degree, you get paid, even if it’s not much, it’s still more than what most uni students get for their unpaid internships.
Then there’s the self-taught crew. The people who started by flipping old garms on Depop or stitching patches onto vintage denim. The ones who learned pattern cutting from YouTube and started building brands out of their bedrooms. This route takes hustle. You have to shout a bit louder. But when you come from outside the system, you often bring the freshest ideas because you’re not trying to replicate what’s already out there. You’re building something new.
Internships can still be useful, but only when they’re fair. If the brand can’t pay you, they should at least offer proper learning, creative freedom and access to networks. And if you’re not getting that? It’s okay to walk away. Your time is worth something, even if you didn’t go to a red brick uni.
There’s also power in community-led learning. Working with grassroots collectives. Volunteering at repair cafes. Hosting upcycling workshops at youth centres. That’s knowledge. That’s impact. That’s real education and more aligned with sustainability than a business module about “eco trends.” Because let’s be honest, some of these institutions still teach fashion the same way they did in 1997. You learn more about fast fashion than how to dismantle it.
The reality is: working-class and global majority creatives have been sustainable by necessity. We’re the ones who know how to stretch a tenner into three outfits. How to make a fit out of what’s already in the wardrobe. How to care for clothes. Repair them. Pass them down. That’s sustainability, just without the marketing.
So if you didn’t go to fashion school, but you care about clothes, care about the planet, and want to create something real, you’re already in. Don’t let the lack of a degree stop you from applying, showing up, building your thing. If the door’s locked, build a new one. Apply to everything as though you're the most qualified and create, create, create. Get your work out there for people to see.
Because the future of fashion isn’t sitting in a lecture theatre. It’s happening in bedrooms, in pop-ups, in community centres, in studio collectives that are sewing, filming, editing, reworking and rethinking what fashion could actually be. Degrees can help, sure. But they’re not the only way.