This story is part of ‘Debunking the dream’, a series based on an exclusive survey of over 600 fashion professionals, which sought to answer two key questions: what does it take to reach a certain level of success in fashion, and what does it take to stay happy at that level? Read part two on how a person’s background impacts their success; part three on the lifestyle that a successful career in fashion demands; and part four on the subsequent mass burnout fashion workers are facing.
In March 2023, Law Roach quit celebrity styling at the peak of his career, citing the “politics, lies and false narratives” that often taint fashion work. This summer, a group of celebrity stylists in the UK formed the sector’s first union, and just last week, designer Tremaine Emory resigned as creative director of Supreme, alleging that there was “systemic racism at play” at the brand.
Fashion’s workforce has historically faced long hours, intense pressure and the mental toll of being part of an industry focused on outward appearances. Employees of all ranks have largely worked through it, keen to assert how lucky they are to have their “dream job”. But – amid an economic downturn which has put further pressure on already stretched teams – cracks are starting to show, and workers may be losing the will to defend the industry.
In June, Vogue Business surveyed 667 industry professionals about their experience of working in fashion. The ‘Success in Fashion’ survey sought to answer two key questions: what does it take to reach a certain level of success in fashion, and what does it take to stay happy at that level?
The survey revealed a workforce struggling to reconcile its expectations of working in fashion with the reality: late nights, long hours, limited pay and opportunities, an overemphasis on fickle personal relationships, and a burnout culture spurred by constant travel and overproduction. Discrimination — in the form of sexism, racism and ableism — is rife.
Why is the dream crumbling now? A number of factors are converging at once: overproduction isn’t just affecting the environment, it’s affecting the people propping up the fashion industry. More clothes, more trend cycles and more pressure to make things bigger and better on tighter budgets and timelines are causing people to burn out at an alarming rate. This has only been exacerbated by the Covid pandemic, during which industry leaders promised to slow the pace of the industry. These promises remain unfulfilled, and the socioeconomic conditions facing workers are even worse than before.
“There is a magical power that fashion has,” says anthropologist Giulia Mensitieri, author of The Most Beautiful Job in the World: Lifting the Veil on the Fashion Industry, published in 2020. “When people enter the industry, they have an idea that is more of a projection as a consumer, but once inside, they deconstruct part of that image. You last in these structurally unequal situations and you endure free labour, because you think you will reach your dream at some point. The dream and the exploitation are interconnected.”
Now, mass dissatisfaction is coming to a head, sparking grassroots movements from strikes and union formation to phenomena like quiet quitting and the great resignation. For fashion companies, this means a struggle to retain talent and deliver on bigger-picture agendas such as sustainability and diversity, equity and inclusion (DE&I). The perpetual state of stress that the industry operates from also risks capping creativity, productivity and innovative decision-making.
At the root of fashion’s dissatisfaction is a workforce renegotiating its definition of success. “Success in fashion is difficult to define because it is very image-driven,” says Ellen Jones, changemaker at inclusive workplace consultancy Utopia. “You could be considered a successful designer and not be able to pay your rent. There are people who are lauded for their roles but they are overworked extensively and underpaid.”
The methodology
In the survey, questions included how respondents define success, how successful they consider themselves, whether their work aligns with their personal values, and how it impacts the lifestyle they are able maintain (including relationships, travel and financial security). To assess the financial security of respondents, the survey also asked about their background — for example, whether they had attended fee-paying schools or not — and their income — whether they were freelance or in full-time employment, whether freelancers were paid by deliverables or time, and how comfortable they felt with negotiating pay. All responses were analysed against facets of identity (age, gender, race/ethnicity, sexual orientation, appearance, education, mental health, social network, socioeconomic status, religion, disability) and types of roles (freelance or full-time employment, business or creative, and whether their role was driven by a greater purpose like sustainability or DE&I).
The 10-minute survey was shared with Vogue Business newsletter subscribers, shared online via LinkedIn and Instagram, and directly with over 350 industry contacts. The data analysis was conducted by an internal Condé Nast custom research team, alongside the writers of this series. Statistical comparisons between groups were used at a 95 per cent confidence interval.
In order to take the survey, respondents had to be over 16 and work in the fashion industry. Among respondents, 55 per cent were under the age of 35, and 44 per cent were over 35 (one per cent preferred not to answer). Women made up 80 per cent of respondents, and men made up 18 per cent (two per cent self-described or preferred not to answer). Thirty per cent were freelance, and 67 per cent were engaged in full-time employment. In terms of seniority, 61 per cent held managerial positions.
There are some inevitable limitations to this data. While the survey was shared with a global audience, the majority of respondents were based in the US (35 per cent) and the UK (30 per cent). Due to cultural sensitivities and differing legal constraints on data collection, questions about race/ethnicity and sexuality were only asked to respondents in the US and the UK. As the majority of respondents in these markets were white or Caucasian (66 per cent for the US and 70 per cent for the UK), all other races and ethnicities were too low to report on separately. For the purpose of analysing the report, these were grouped together, so statistics about race and ethnicity refer throughout to white people compared to people of colour throughout.
To avoid oversimplifying a complex global industry, and conflating the top and bottom of the supply chain, the survey focused on post-production roles: buyers and merchandisers, journalists and copywriters, PR and marketing professionals, creative and strategic consultants, models and influencers, and creative roles such as designers, photographers, stylists, hairstylists and makeup artists. This survey does not include garment workers or supply chain workers, whose plight is worthy of further attention, but is distinct from the scope of this research.
Debunking the dream
This series explores how a person’s background impacts their success, the lifestyle that a successful career in fashion demands, and the subsequent mass burnout fashion workers are facing. These factors threaten to expose the ‘dream’ of fashion — which its workers are both victims and perpetrators of — as a fallacy. In response, workers feel compelled to keep recreating and reinforcing the dream, to prove, to themselves and others, that the sacrifices they have made to work in this way were worthwhile. But, in the context of compounding global crises — climate change, the cost of living crisis, worsening inequalities and political unrest — the reality of fashion is getting harder to ignore. Now, the industry needs to rebrand as something vital and fundamentally changemaking, if it wants to retain talent as well as profit. However, with a workforce that is experiencing systemic burnout, that’s hard to do.
Fashion is a gargantuan global industry. According to analytics firm Globaldata, consumer spending on apparel currently stands at $3.59 trillion worldwide. Despite this, the industry has historically been dismissed as a frivolous — and traditionally feminine — pursuit. This has allowed exploitation to fester.
Certain groups are more susceptible to burnout, more vulnerable to the power dynamics at play in fashion, and more likely to become disillusioned, our survey shows. Of the survey respondents, 52 per cent of people of colour said their race or ethnicity has had a negative impact on their career in fashion, compared to just 6 per cent of white respondents. In addition, people of colour are more likely to take on unpaid work than white counterparts, and those with disabilities — physical and mental, visible and invisible — said the infrastructure of the industry is fundamentally inaccessible. Across all roles, those who sit outside the beauty standard of youth, whiteness, Eurocentric features, and slim, able bodies also reported barriers to success, as did those who can’t afford to buy trendy clothes. Those at the intersection of multiple marginalised groups suffer more.
The Vogue Business ‘Success in Fashion’ survey reveals an industry obsessed with keeping up appearances, excluding marginalised groups and limiting their progression. The fantasy of fashion — which lures many of these groups in with the promise of belonging — remains elusive.
Of all barriers, financial inequality, lack of social connections and cultural capital were the most commonly referenced among survey respondents. There is a prevailing narrative in fashion that people ought to be willing to work for free, because working in such a “glamorous” role is a privilege. The lifestyle that fashion promises — travel to far-flung places, exclusive events and social capital — can be used to force people into accepting poor working conditions, punctuated by no or low pay. Only those with financial privilege – parents who can pay their rent, or subsidise their income – or cultural capital, social connections and mentors to help open doors, are able to break through comfortably.
Fashion is a highly coveted career, but the myth of a glamorous lifestyle often obscures the reality: blurred personal and professional boundaries and a relentless pace.
It’s been proven time and again that diversity equals creativity, equals innovation, equals progress. But, fashion — despite being an industry that prides itself on moving forward in new and creative ways — consistently fails to move forward in the meaningful ways its workers are crying out for.
Fashion is facing a burnout epidemic, with marginalised communities, purpose-driven professionals and freelancers bearing the brunt. As the prospect of a mass exodus looms, calls for a slower pace and systemic reform mount.
Building a better system: Community over competition
To achieve systems change, the fashion business needs to reassess its fundamental aims. “Unless we change the foundational model of overproduction and overconsumption, there will be no future for fashion, because there will be no future for humanity,” says consultant and founder of talent platform The Now Work Hannah Phang. “So much of how companies are organised forces us to treat ourselves like machines instead of humans. We have one ultimate task, which is to grow businesses economically, and we are asked to complete that task at all costs, including the cost to ourselves.”
Change starts with recognising fashion workers as workers, not hobbyists who can be made to work for free. “A fashion company is a business like any other,” says designer Jawara Alleyne. “Under the Instagram content, the red carpet and the music videos, there’s a business model that needs to be demystified.”
Survey respondents had plenty of ideas about how to build a better system. Many of their proposed solutions start with the way people are treated. “Stop normalising burnout,” says one. “Overcome biases,” says another. They called for less nepotism, more unconscious bias training and more diversity at higher levels. Others highlighted the need for more networking opportunities and support systems for marginalised groups, and many said these efforts need to be more intersectional, moving beyond gender and race as the only mainstream markers of diversity. The overall message was clear: fashion needs to challenge the “old ways of doing things” and find a new path forward.
That path begins with community. Fashion is a highly individualistic industry — it encourages isolated freelance work, personal brands and competition between peers. “Fashion is a system fuelled by exception, rather than creating a critical path everyone can access,” says Sinéad Burke, disability advocate and founder of accessibility consultancy Tilting the Lens.
This individualism undermines collective action, which is the most effective route to systemic change. “We must remain united, no matter how small we are or how far away from the palaces of power our voices may seem,” says designer Stella Jean. In recent years, fashion workers have expressed a desire for collective action — even if they don’t recognise it as such yet. Instagram meme accounts like Stressed Stylist, Fashion Assistants and Dank Art Director Memes have built communities by sharing jokes about their experiences of working in the fashion industry. “Memes have become a way to escape from everyday stress, bring people together and raise awareness,” says the anonymous founder of Stressed Stylist.
If the industry can mobilise these disgruntled communities, more tangible outcomes like strikes and unionisation could lead to real, positive change. For these collective solutions to work, people at all levels of the industry need to engage, including those at the top. Allyship is a proven solution. “Privilege goes beyond money; it’s how much power you have in a system,” says Michael Miller, who co-founded UK-based Celebrity Stylist Union in August. “A lot of people in the industry didn’t come from money but now they’re in a position of power which they could use to help others.”
Mentorship can help open doors for people from marginalised communities, and shift power imbalances at play in the industry. “It can seem scary to approach someone you respect and admire, but I wish I had got a mentor earlier,” says Dazed fashion features director Emma Davidson. “Maybe you can start with less well-known people, people just a few years ahead of you, but you have to forge those relationships.”
To build more inclusive communities, fashion needs to understand who has a stake in the game. Both the British Fashion Council and the Swedish Fashion Council are starting to gather census data on fashion’s workers, hoping to get a more accurate pulse on diversity and inclusion in the fashion industry. These anonymised feedback mechanisms are crucial, especially for marginalised workers who feel scared to speak out, says fashion inclusion consultant Arooj Aftab. The industry is losing out on top talent because workplaces aren’t receiving meaningful feedback to help them become more inclusive, she adds.
Industry leaders are optimistic. “There’s a lot of space to keep shifting things and it doesn’t mean we have to tear everything down,” says designer Aurora James, founder of Brother Vellies and the 15 Percent Pledge, and vice chair of the CFDA. There is an opportunity to make diversity, inclusion and positive change foundational to the industry, she explains. “If we do that, it might actually become a [better] structure at the end.”
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With data analysis by Amy Betts and Jayne Pickard.
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