This story was featured in Unwoven Issue 03, Textile Exchange’s annual magazine. Read the full issue here.

High in the harsh landscapes of Peru’s central Andes, alpacas have sustained families for generations—not just as a livelihood, but as part of daily life and identity. For farmer Evelyn Diaz, preserving that bond means safeguarding both her family’s future and a heritage under pressure from climate change, economic challenges, and shifting traditions.

To Evelyn Diaz, an alpaca farmer in Peru’s highlands, the animals she works with every day are not merely her livelihood—they’re part of the family. “Sometimes my husband jokingly tells me that my mother must be an alpaca,” she says with a giggle. “From the moment I opened my eyes, they’ve always been right there beside me.”

Evelyn’s family farm, Fundo El Nevado, sits high in the grasslands of the central Andes—a five-hour drive from the bustling city of Juliaca. At 4,500 meters above sea level in the puna, oxygen is thin and vegetation sparse. The changing climate is also making alpaca farming increasingly difficult. But after years in the city, Evelyn felt the call of home. Ten years ago, she decided to return to her childhood home to help preserve Peru’s alpaca farming tradition.

Today, the business she runs with her parents and husband is recognized by Textile Exchange’s Responsible Alpaca Standard, which ensures alpaca fiber is produced in a way that respects animal welfare, social welfare, and land health. It’s a philosophy that comes through clearly in the way Evelyn talks about her flock and the landscape they inhabit.

“These animals are our guardians,” she says. “They live closely alongside us—the people of the high Andes—and share the same ecosystems that sustain us all.”

Evelyn’s parents, Máximo and Felicitas Diaz, began their journey here 40 years ago with fewer than 100 alpacas and a small inherited plot of land. At the time, they were considered subsistence farmers —a term Máximo rejects for suggesting mere survival rather than his entrepreneurial, growth-driven approach. Through smart decisions such as buying land from neighbors and growing their herd exponentially, they overcame the challenges of living in the region’s harsh climate with no public services. Over the years, they’ve become known for breeding high-quality alpacas, now their main source of income.

Over a breakfast of chaplas (Andean bread) and a quinoa and lamb soup, Felicitas, now 70, shared that the greatest hurdle in those early years was ignoring their neighbors’ warnings about expanding their herd and land too quickly. “It was risky, they said,” she recalled with a knowing smile as she served the hearty three-course meal. “But we didn’t listen, and we proved them wrong.”

The couple passed on their work ethic to their children. Evelyn, the eldest of five, stood out early on for her passion for alpacas and life in the puna. While her sisters dreamed of city life, she was up at 3am every day, helping her father with the daily tasks required to maintain a healthy herd—a routine that remains unchanged to this day. As she herded the alpacas, Evelyn explained that, like any other member of the family, the animals simply need constant love and care. “I just couldn’t stay away from them for too long,” she says.

When Evelyn and her sisters reached their teenage years, Máximo and Felicitas faced a tough decision. The puna wasn’t conducive to quality education, so they began splitting their time between the farm and the city. As the eldest, Evelyn often found herself acting as a part-time mother. “It was a huge responsibility,” she admitted. “During high school, I had to balance helping my parents manage the farm and taking care of my sisters. It wasn’t easy, but it taught me a lot.”

Her hard work and determination were reflected in her academic success. Thanks to her parents’ unwavering support, Evelyn became the first woman in her village to pursue a professional career, unsurprisingly choosing veterinary medicine. While studying at the Universidad Nacional del Altiplano de Puno, she met her husband, Oscar Vilca, who shared her love for alpacas and llamas. After graduation, the couple returned to El Nevado with innovative ideas for improving herd management: new herding techniques, keeping records on each of the animals, and the introduction of Western medicine.

However, these modern approaches initially clashed with Máximo and Felicitas’s traditional methods. “It was like talking to the most stubborn wall you can imagine,” Oscar joked. “I only gave in to stop the headaches their constant nagging was giving me,” his father-in-law replied.

Their persistence eventually paid off. Mortality rates decreased, animal welfare improved, and the herd grew to over 2,000 alpacas. The family grew too: Evelyn and Oscar had two children. While Oscar fostered cooperation among neighboring farmers and collaborated with local governments to improve market access for alpaca products, Evelyn became a leading voice for alpaca farmers across Peru. Her ability to articulate the challenges farmers face—particularly women—caught the attention of Peruvian fashion designers and organizations eager to support initiatives that improve rural livelihoods, such as Meche Correa and Qaytu.

Evelyn is quick to point out that their work is far from finished. “There’s still so much to be done,” she says, describing her projects to create entrepreneurship opportunities for women, which ran into traditional expectations around their role as homemakers.

“With limited government support and few opportunities for alpaca farmers, many young people are losing interest in following their parents’ path.”

This generational shift is a significant concern for the Diaz family and wider alpaca farming community, and Evelyn and Oscar are determined to bring it to the attention of industry stakeholders.

When asked about the greatest challenge she faces as a female alpaca farmer, Evelyn is unequivocal: “Being away from my kids.” Even 30 years after her parents faced the same issue, it’s still almost impossible to balance farming and providing a decent education for one’s children. “The only option is for them to live in the city with a relative while you travel back and forth from the farm,” she says. She makes the four-hour commute to and from the city and the farm almost daily, in order to see her children as much as possible.

Despite the difficulties of highland life, Evelyn says the bond she shares with her animals is her greatest source of hope. “As a mother, I know it’s thanks to them that I have an income and can provide for my children,” she says.

“Apparently, we raised them,” she says of the herd. “But if they could speak, they would say that they raised us.”

This story was featured in Unwoven Issue 03, Textile Exchange’s annual magazine. Read the full issue here.

The post Preserving Peru’s Heritage One Alpaca at a Time appeared first on Textile Exchange.

This story was featured in Unwoven Issue 03, Textile Exchange’s annual magazine. Read the full issue here.

In France, the new Repair Bonus (Bonus Réparation) is making it cheaper for customers to mend their clothes and shoes while preserving a fading craft. Part of the country’s anti-waste law, the scheme is boosting business, attracting new customers, and showing how targeted policies can drive both sustainability and skilled trades forward.

In her cobbler’s workshop in Paris’s 18th arrondissement, Isabel Arnoult picks up a pair of black men’s Oxford shoes that need a new lease of life. It’s a simple fix: adding a protective rubber sole. The repair usually costs €30, but thanks to a government subsidy, the customer gets a €8 discount. “It’s a very common request, and for the customer, it’s very cost-effective,” she says.

Cobblers across France are finding renewed purpose in a shifting fashion landscape. Since the introduction of France’s anti-waste law for a circular economy (AGEC) in late 2023—which includes the Repair Bonus that allows people to claim back part of the cost of mending clothes and shoes—demand has surged.

Coordinated by the non-profit Refashion and funded by contributions from manufacturers and brands under an Extended Producer Responsibility (EPR) program, the discount is applied directly to the customer’s invoice at certified workshops or cobblers. It ranges from €6 for mending a tear in a garment to €25 for resoling leather shoes. The goal is to encourage people to repair and extend the life of their clothing and footwear, but it’s also helping to preserve valuable skills. In its first year, over 83% of the 826,000 repairs funded through the scheme were carried out by cobblers.

“I’ve definitely gained new customers because they heard about the Repair Bonus,” says Maximilien Mauriès, speaking over the hum of machines in his busy workshop, which occupies a picturesque blue shopfront in Paris’s Montmartre neighborhood. “It’s a small increase, but an increase nonetheless.”

“It’s very good news for us because it’s bringing in more work,” says Jean-Pierre Verneau, the president of the French Federation of Shoemakers and owner of a cobbler’s shop in Le Mans. “On average, we’ve seen a 15 to 20% increase in revenue, which is significant.”

Shoemaking, he explains, accounts for most of the repairs, since it’s a more technical trade than clothing alterations and requires specialist tools. “You can’t really DIY when it comes to fixing shoes.”

France throws away around 700,000 tonnes of clothing each year—a problem that came to a head this past summer with protests from Le Relais, a major player in textile recycling, which warned that the system was “on the verge of collapse.”

In response, the French government pledged €49 million in aid to support the collection and sorting of textile waste. In a country known for protecting craftsmanship, shoemaking has become increasingly rare. In 1950, France had over 50,000 cobblers, making them a fixture on every street corner. But years of declining demand, fast fashion, and changing consumer habits pushed many to the brink—with some even turning to locksmithing and other trades to stay afloat.

“The French are still generally quite sensitive to craftsmanship, but shoemaking and repair trades have long been undervalued,” says Elsa Chassagnette, the Repair Fund Manager at Refashion, the non-profit that runs the scheme.

“We’re working to restore their value in the context of a circular economy, where they take on new meaning. We want to show that having your shoes repaired is extremely eco-friendly.”

Today, the number of cobblers in France has dwindled to 3,500, but that number has remained stable for the past decade. “Customers are slowly becoming more eco-conscious,” says Jean- Pierre. “It’s been happening for a while, but the Repair Bonus has accelerated it. Over the last few years, people have begun turning away from fast fashion and toward higher-quality shoes. And higher quality, by definition, means more repairs.”

Since its launch nearly two years ago, around 700 cobblers have joined the Repair Bonus program—but not everyone is convinced. Some argue the system, which requires logging each repair and receipt into an app, is too time-consuming and not financially worthwhile. “It’s an added administrative burden; taking pictures of everything takes time,” says Isabel. The profession remains old-fashioned, and many shops are run by older artisans who are digitally inexperienced. “Unfortunately, many of our colleagues don’t even have a computer,” adds Jean-Pierre.

In recent years, though, a younger generation has rediscovered the craft. Rather than closing down, many workshops are being taken over by younger shoemakers, and most new entrants to the trade sign up for the Repair Bonus right away, says Jean-Pierre.

An increasingly sustainability-focused clientele has also forced cobblers to adapt to new types of footwear. As sneakers become more expensive, repairing them has become a cost-effective option, and cobblers have learned to bring them back to life. French sneaker brand Veja, known for its responsible production practices with farmers in Brazil, has embraced the trade, opening repair-focused cobblers in France and beyond, including in its shops in Berlin, Madrid, and New York.

“Shoemaking is slowly coming back into fashion,” says Jean-Pierre. “There are plenty of cobblers eager to satisfy their customers and push the craft forward—after all, we’ve always been part of the circular economy.”

Governments around the world are watching closely as France’s Repair Bonus demonstrates how targeted laws can drive positive change in the textile industry. “The Repair Bonus is a world first,” says Elsa. “And it’s of great interest to our European neighbors. I’ve had lots of discussions with people from different neighboring countries about it.”

By making repairs cheaper for consumers and viable for small businesses, financial incentives not only encourage sustainable choices but could also offer a solution for preserving local crafts. Applied more widely to other areas of the fashion industry—from rentals to resale and recycling—similar measures could be key to making circularity feel as natural as buying something new.

This story was featured in Unwoven Issue 03, Textile Exchange’s annual magazine. Read the full issue here.

The post How France’s anti-waste laws are boosting small repair shops appeared first on Textile Exchange.

This story was featured in Unwoven Issue 03, Textile Exchange’s annual magazine. Read the full issue here.

Combining technological innovation with large-scale production expertise, Säntis Textiles and Kipaş Textiles created the RCO100 system to transform textile waste into high-quality, garment-grade fiber. But it all started with a chance meeting and a challenge from PVH Corp.

The journey to creating the first 100% recycled cotton begins—as is often the case with good ideas—not in an office, but through a chance encounter between two visionary leaders. Stefan Hutter, a textile engineer and founder of Säntis Textiles, was on a skiing holiday when he met fellow Swiss man Daniel Grieder, then CEO of PVH Corp (the parent company of Calvin Klein and Tommy Hilfiger), and the two quickly struck up a conversation about the future of the textile industry.

“Even though he’s been in the textile business for 40 years, my father never ventured into fashion,” says Annabelle Hutter, the Managing Director of Säntis Textiles in Switzerland, explaining that Säntis focused on technical fabrics. “Grieder came up with a challenge for him: could he create 100% recycled cotton for his brands?” Cotton represents around 19% of global fiber production, but just 1% of it is recycled cotton, according to Textile Exchange’s 2025 Materials Market Report. However, the demand for recycled cotton is projected to almost double in 10 years, from $5.2 billion in 2023 to $9.8 billion by 2032.

Stefan, whose family has a long tradition in Swiss textile engineering, founded Säntis in 2005. The company, headquartered in Singapore with offices worldwide, already had some experience with recycled fabrics, but these were mostly technical fabrics for applications such as home furnishings—a far cry from the fine threads needed for garments. So in 2016, Stefan accepted the challenge.

Without the help of outside investors, Stefan decided to invest his own profits into developing a machine specifically for recycling textiles in the garment industry. And after several trials in the company’s Chinese factories, the result was RCO100—a breakthrough system capable of turning industrial waste (such as fabric cuttings and yarn waste) as well as pre- and post-consumer garments sorted by color and composition, into high-quality recycled cotton.

Unlike existing machines, it produces longer fiber lengths essential for spinning, without the use of water or chemicals, and is specifically designed to create 100% recycled cotton and textile-grade fiber.

“There are other mechanical recycling machines, but they were all built decades ago and were designed for downcycling, never to handle textiles to make textiles again,” says Annabelle.

“The breakthrough is that we prioritize creating a fiber that can go back into making new textiles.”

But technological innovation cannot solve the problem of textile waste alone. Stefan soon realised he needed a partner with the technical muscle and industry know-how to take the project from prototype to large-scale production. Kipaş Textiles, based in the Turkish city of Kahramanmaraş, emerged as a natural choice.

With a production capacity of 80 million meters of fabric per year and 330 tons of yarn per day, it is Türkiye’s and Europe’s largest integrated textile manufacturer. “Our expertise in spinning, weaving, and producing finished fabrics like denim allows us to process recycled fiber efficiently,” says Halit Gümüşer, Managing Director and Board Member of Kipaş Holding.

Türkiye is the world’s fourth-largest exporter of denim, known for its bright, smooth finish and strong cotton fibers, and Kipaș has been a driving force behind that reputation. “Türkiye holds a significant strategic position,” says Nicolas Prophte, a board member at the Denim Deal, a circular denim project launched in the Netherlands in 2020. “With a well-established textile industry experienced in recycling and spinning technologies, as well as decades of operation of numerous denim mills, the country boasts a solid foundation for advancing sustainable practices.”

Denim is also especially important for recycled cotton, explains Nicolas, who was the former VP of PVH Corp’s Denim Center.

“It’s predominantly made from cotton fibers—around 98 to 99%—and because it is one of the most widely produced and worn fabrics globally, it generates considerable textile waste, from factory scraps to discarded jeans.” He adds that “denim fibers are usually of high quality and durability,” so even when recycled, they can still make high-quality yarns.

The ubiquity of denim across the fashion industry also helps.

“It was also the friendliest [fabric] to introduce to a brand that had never done anything like that before,” says Annabelle. In 2021, Stefan was able to complete his challenge of providing 100% recycled cotton to Tommy Hilfiger. Since then, Kipaș and Säntis have produced around 300 tons of 100% recycled cotton every month.

In February 2023, just as the RCO100 system was scaling up, a 7.8-magnitude earthquake devastated southern Türkiye, including Kipaș’s home city of Kahramanmaraş. Several factory buildings were heavily damaged, and many workers lost homes and loved ones.

It took an immense effort to bring the factory back on track. “There was a very big dedication and sacrifice of our team,” says Halit. But far from slowing their ambitions, the disaster strengthened Kipaș’s commitment to building a better future. Having experienced firsthand the destructive force of a natural disaster, the company doubled down on its sustainability efforts. “We had to destroy some buildings and build new ones to make more sustainable processes available,” says Halit, adding that, as a result, “Kipaş is becoming much more sustainable and much more efficient.”

A year later, the collaboration reached another significant milestone. The RCO100 recycled canvas fabric caught the eye of Alexander McQueen, and gave rise to a Bird Tail Peplum Jacket in the label’s 2024 Autumn-Winter collection. It marked the first time RCO100 had been showcased on the catwalk.

Today, Säntis and Kipaș produce and sell everything from the recycled cotton fiber to the yarns and fabrics. Säntis even sells the RCO100 recycling machine itself. The first licensed machine manufacturer is Temsan, a company based in the same area as Kipaş, and Säntis has since commercially launched the machine to allow third-party manufacturers, from wool recyclers and garment manufacturers to yarn spinners, to buy it and recycle their own waste, whether it’s cotton, wool, or silk.

“It’s not for us to gatekeep all of this,” says Annabelle. “We need to be able to open up access to the industry, to have better quality recycled cotton fibers,” she says, knowing that doing so will require the exact spirit of multi-stakeholder partnership that they have now proven is possible.

This story was featured in Unwoven Issue 03, Textile Exchange’s annual magazine. Read the full issue here.

The post How Cross-Sector Partnerships Made Recycled Cotton a Reality in Türkiye appeared first on Textile Exchange.

This story was featured in Unwoven Issue 03, Textile Exchange’s annual magazine. Read the full issue here.

In the smallholder farming communities of Odisha and Madhya Pradesh, organic cotton is not just a crop—it is an inheritance, nurtured through ritual, tradition, and care for the land.

With support from the Organic Cotton Accelerator and improved market access, this inheritance is finding its place in today’s supply chains. At sunrise, Kamari village in Odisha hums to life. Birdsong mingles with the clatter of brooms sweeping mud courtyards. Mist clings to the paddy edges, while women move like clockwork through morning chores. High above, the koel sings, a reminder that a new day has begun.

Annapurna Maji starts her day in the fields. A proud organic cotton farmer, she is also a board member of a farmer-producer organization. Annapurna is a community leader, a cultivator, and a firm believer in the regenerative power of traditional knowledge.

Across India, farmers like her are making the shift to organic with support from the Organic Cotton Accelerator (OCA). Working with Implementing Partners and actors across the supply chain, OCA is building a transparent, resilient, and farmer-centric organic cotton sector. Through its Farm Programme, the organization provides farmers with access to training, non-GMO seed, pre-financing, and a guaranteed premium for their organic cotton.

The organization works with over 100,000 organic cotton farmers, most of them in India, but also in Pakistan and Türkiye, across more than 106,000 hectares of land. With reliable partnerships in the field, OCA also gathers data to demonstrate the benefits of organic cotton for farmers and the environment. The organization aims to go beyond measurement and reporting by empowering farmers and guiding continuous improvement in the global fashion, textile, and apparel industry.

With its support, farmers like Annapurna are earning more, farming in a way that protects their health, restores soil biodiversity, and secures the future of their land for generations to come. But it wasn’t always this way.

“When I first came to this village as a bride,” she recalls, “I was someone’s wife. I didn’t step outside much. My world was the kitchen. I didn’t imagine I would one day be leading farmers or speaking about organic cotton to visitors.”

She recalls the early years of farming with synthetic fertilizers. “The plants looked healthy, and the yield was high. But slowly, I began noticing things. My soil was hard. Earthworms disappeared. And people around us were falling sick more often.”

Noticing turned into questioning, which in turn led to action. For Annapurna, transitioning to organic practices was simply a return to the past. “My ancestors didn’t call it organic,” she smiles. “It was just farming. They used compost from livestock, they planted marigolds and bitter plants to deter pests, and they respected the seasons.”

Today, she recreates those methods in her own fields, preparing compost at home, applying leaf-based pest repellents, and intercropping cotton with pigeon pea to both feed her family and boost the soil health. She avoids synthetic inputs, chooses native seeds, and relies on natural solutions. “I used to spend thousands on fertilizers and pesticides,” she notes. “Now I spend time, not money, making what I need from what I already have.”

When she began organic farming, the change started. “At first, the yield dropped. But soon, I saw tiny life returning. Earthworms. Beneficial insects. The soil became soft again. Now, my yields are stable, my cotton is strong, and my land is alive.”

A similar story is unfolding in the village of Satrundi in Petlawad, Madhya Pradesh, where Maan Singh and Gaura Katara, a couple from the Bhil community, have been farming for over three decades. Over the last 15 years, they have returned to growing jaivik kapas (organic cotton) on their 2.5-acre plot, alongside maize, pigeon pea, green gram, mustard, okra, brinjal, and seasonal vegetables. The layout is intentional, thoughtful, and generous.

For the Kataras, before going organic, farming brought more stress than sustenance. Market-bought inputs such as chemical fertilizers and pesticides were costly and confusing. “We were told to spray something but didn’t even know what it was,” Maan Singh recalls. “It was expensive and didn’t always work.”

The decision to adopt an organic approach was in equal parts instinctual, ancestral, and economic.

“Organic is our tradition,” Maan Singh reflects. “Earlier, all farming was done without chemicals. We decided to return to that.”

Thanks to OCA’s support, specifically the training from its field teams and help to access resources, their farm is nearly self-sufficient—from input-making to pest control. They began using jeevamrit, a living preparation of cow dung, urine, jaggery, gram flour, and soil, along with fermented five-leaf extract for pest control. Seed treatments were made from ash and buttermilk. “We prepare everything ourselves,” explains Gaura. “For pest control, we use neem, cow dung, buttermilk, and ash. We don’t have to spend money.”

“Now we understand the fields better,” Maan Singh adds. “We know what the soil needs. We know how to protect the crop.” Slowly, signs of their efforts began to show. They saw earthworms in the compost, bees returning to the bunds, and cotton bolls fuller than before. But the deeper change was personal. Household expenses fell, and a sense of fulfillment returned to the family. Their introduction of on-farm biochar, made from crop waste—which enriches the soil, improves water retention, and boosts long-term fertility—has become an example for neighboring farmers to learn from.

While cotton brings income, the rest feeds both them and the soil. Their fiber, now praised for its long length, fetches better prices too. With their profits, they recently bought seven bighas (approximately 4.4 acres) of additional land, increasing both their reach and their impact.

Higher farmer incomes create a more stable and resilient supply base, as farmers who thrive are less likely to exit farming or shift to other crops. Using on-farm inputs is one way to improve profitability, forming a strong foundation for long-term supply chain sustainability.

But for both Annapurna and the Kataras, the purpose of this approach extends far beyond their finances, connecting to their spirituality, heritage, and future legacy. It’s a reciprocal relationship —they give to the land, which gives back in return.

Before the first rains, Annapurna and her community perform puja to Dharani, their soil deity. “It’s a way to thank the land before we begin sowing,” she says.

Over in Satrundi, every morning, Gaura places a marigold garland near their Matavan grove, a sacred patch of forest they have never harvested from. “This land protects us, so we protect it,” she says, pressing her forehead to the soil.

Cotton cannot be harvested until Nawayi, a sacred offering of the first yield to the deities. This ritual is decided during Jatar, a gathering of elders and the village head, where communities cook, celebrate, and offer gratitude before receiving. “Only after we offer the harvest to the gods can we bring it into our home,” Gaura explains.

On these days, she wears her silver jewelry, using bangles, beads, and anklets as adornment and as her identity. Passed down through generations, these ornaments are slowly giving way to lighter metals, but the meaning holds.

Gaura now works with a women’s self-help group that experiments, shares, and documents traditional techniques, spreading resilience through conversation. As she took the lead in preparing bio-inputs, their costs dropped, and confidence grew. “We get capacity-building training from the team,” she says. “If we see a pest, we know what to do. We try it ourselves, and if needed, we ask for help.”

“Without women, farming cannot happen,” Annapurna adds. “Who touches the cow dung? Who makes the compost? It’s the women.” For her, it’s the women who hold the village together.

Annapurna even remembers her grandmother predicting the weather by instinct. “Now the rains are erratic. The climate has changed,” she says. “Back then, people used bullocks, not machines. They made their own oil from linseeds. They used castor oil in their hair and mud to clean their hands.”

For her, it’s this combination of honoring her ancestry while remaining committed to carrying this legacy forward that saw her stick with the organic approach. While her neighbors were skeptical of the initial lower yields, she saw the longer-term prospects. “I want my next generation to inherit land that can still grow food, not just money,” she adds.

“I even treat the soil like a child. I feed it. I protect it. I don’t burn plastic or throw waste in the fields. I collect polythenes and give them to the local community for safe disposal.”

The same is true for the Kataras, who already have three decades of farming behind them. Each morning, as Maan Singh readies the oxen and checks on the compost pit and biochar unit—newer additions to their farm, yet already part of the daily rhythm—he’s preparing to hand down this routine to generations to come. “We are teaching our children and grandchildren to farm this way,” Gaura shares. “So they also learn how to take care of the land.”

For farmers like them, organic cotton is both a livelihood and a legacy—a way of farming that restores the soil, strengthens communities, and carries forward the wisdom of generations. Sustaining this future depends not only on the hands that work the fields, but also on the commitments made beyond them.

Fair partnerships, patient investment, and reliable markets form the bridge between the quiet work of dawn and the lasting prosperity of these communities. Supporting this work is more than a transaction. It is standing alongside the people who rise before sunrise to greet the soil, preserving knowledge that has outlasted seasons and markets, and ensuring the land can keep giving abundantly to those who care for it.

Special thanks to Action for Social Advancement and Vasudha Swaraj, OCA’s Implementing Partners for their on-the-ground collaboration. Their work helps smallholder tribal communities in India grow organic cotton sustainably, preserving traditional knowledge and strengthening livelihoods.

This story was featured in Unwoven Issue 03, Textile Exchange’s annual magazine. Read the full issue here.

The post Inside the Smallholder Tribal Communities Growing Organic Cotton in India appeared first on Textile Exchange.

This story was featured in Unwoven Issue 03, Textile Exchange’s annual magazine. Read the full issue here.

For South African wool farmer James Brodie, a locally adapted understanding of livestock and land management is helping regenerate his farm in the Karoo region. In doing so, he is building a resilient farming system that honors the landscape’s unique ecology.

At the gates of Doornplaats farm, the sounds of waking birds grow louder as the sun begins to rise. Down the undulating dirt road to the homestead, farmer James Brodie greets us with a warm South African welcome.

Here in the Karoo region of the Eastern Cape, just outside of the historic town of Graaff-Reinet, James farms with sheep, cattle, and a small herd of alpacas, which belong to his wife, Sandy. A fourth-generation farmer, he began his journey in regenerative agriculture long before the movement gained the traction that it has today. After taking on the farming enterprise from his father in 2003, he has been on a mission to build on the work that his great-grandfather began in 1896.

Adopted by the Brodie family, regenerative farming aims to bring depleted land back to life and support the long-term functioning of the surrounding ecosystem. The idea is that, as part of maintaining a healthy livestock business, farmers use their animals to help implement principles designed to improve the health of ecosystems and boost biodiversity.

“We’re all farming on degraded land to some extent and, unless we regenerate, we will continue to lose the battle against desertification,” James says, explaining his interest in the approach.

Over time, he has learned to use the animals’ behavior and grazing style to mimic the ecological processes that once shaped the local landscape. For centuries, South Africa’s rangeland ecosystems evolved under vast migrating herds of herbivores that followed the rains and kept just ahead of the predators that lurked behind. Those ecosystems depended on short periods of intense grazing followed by long periods of rest.

Today, there are far fewer animals on the Brodies’ land than the historic mass migrations of animals which would have likely grazed the entire farm in a single pass. But drawing on this ecological understanding, James uses an adaptive grazing management approach that considers the right intensity, type, and timing of grazing in each camp, followed by adequate periods of recovery. He rotates his herds of sheep and cattle all year round, using their movement to promote plant recovery in the growing season and remove dead vegetation in the dormant months.

When more disruption is needed for restoration, James turns to kraaling—a South African practice rooted in local tradition. This involves collecting his ewes and lambs in enclosures strategically positioned on bare ground patches. He leaves them here for a couple of nights before moving to a new area. Their hooves break up crusted soil surfaces while their dung and urine fertilize the area, giving dramatic results. When the rains arrive, once-barren patches burst to life with vegetation.

As he leads us through the farm, James points out patches of bare ground still in need of restoration, then proudly gestures to areas that are now filled with life thanks to his efforts. “I’m buying back more land with every bare patch of ground I regenerate,” he says with a smile.

As the wider veld recovers, it responds in kind. Like any ecosystem, it’s a puzzle made up of thousands of interconnected pieces that, if you are willing to work with them and patiently figure out which fits where, will reward you in ways you can’t imagine.

Hardy pioneer species give way to more palatable climax grasses. Plant diversity improves. With more varied, nutrient-rich forage underfoot, the livestock get healthier, and yields increase. Thanks to James’s careful planning, there’s foliage for them to eat through both winter and summer, reducing reliance on expensive supplementary feeds.

Animals quickly learn the routine—they know that when one gate closes, the next opens onto greener and more nutritious grass.

His herds move calmly, with no prompt or pressure at all, into the next grazing area, minimizing handling stress. Regularly moving them helps to break up pest cycles and avoid problem areas during risky times too, decreasing the need for antibiotics and treatments.

Finding a balance of practices that unite the welfare of his animals with that of the land is key. “Everything we do starts with microbes,” he explains. “From the microbes in the soil to the ones in the guts of our animals—I call it microbes to market.”

“But you need to choose the right type of animal and balance the benefits of the veld with their health and production,” he adds, speaking to the importance of raising locally adapted livestock. “It should never come at their expense.”

The use of practices such as kraaling has also led to a marked decrease in predation. Gathered together and protected by an electric fence, the herd is less vulnerable to attacks. With the help of the alpacas, who guard the sheep flocks, these non-lethal predator control methods are part of a broader effort to build human–wildlife coexistence. By reducing vulnerability, they balance the financial toll of livestock losses while respecting the role predator species play in healthy ecosystems.

Together, these benefits help to build a circular model where money saved on external inputs and earned through higher quality wool and meat is invested back into the land, animals, and people. Improved ecological health leads to better products, better market opportunities, and ultimately a more resilient business—all of which are critical in the face of growing environmental and economic risks.

The Brodies’ approach is backed by two key schemes: the Responsible Wool Standard and the Savory Institute’s Land to Market program. More than just labels, these programs are a key part of their business model. Certification to the Responsible Wool Standard verifies land and animal welfare practices and provides access to a premium market. Meanwhile, the Land to Market program helps to recognize his achievements in regeneration in the market.

At Doornplaats, regeneration doesn’t stop with the soil, but extends into social outcomes through training, upskilling, and providing work opportunities that lead to social mobility too. James’s permanent farm staff have grown into respected leaders in the regenerative space, often leading demonstrations and sharing knowledge with visiting farmers.

During shearing season, a group of local women are paid to sort the wool: wives and daughters of local farmworkers from Graaff-Reinet, Murraysburg, and neighboring farms, who gain added financial independence through this work. “The money we make supports our households and provides for our children, contributing to their school needs,” explains Janet, who leads the group. “It’s hard work, but we enjoy it—it’s much better than sitting idly at home.”

Beyond the farm gate, James has become a national advocate for regenerative farming. He supports a Regenerative Land Management training program run by Healing Hooves and is one of the hosts of the Regenerative Grazing Farm Tour run by The Regenerative Agricultural Association of Southern Africa (RegenAg SA). Through a partnership with SocioTech, he’s also working with more than 100 small-scale farmers across four South African provinces to improve land and livestock management and secure rural livelihoods.

“The biggest gap to bridge is the four inches between your ears,” he jokes, referring to the need for a mind shift from industrial farming towards a regenerative approach. He sees himself as a lifelong learner and believes he has only scraped the surface of these complex ecosystems.

Where to graze, for how long, and how long to rest, is an ever-evolving consideration in his adaptive management plan that he tweaks a little more with each season. He has put monitoring strategies in place to help measure the impact of his management. Every answer he gets opens up new questions to explore.

“What we have achieved on our land through regenerating ecological function and its impact on productivity was unimaginable when we started—and we are far from the end of this journey,” he smiles. Just when he thinks the land can’t get any better, it surprises him again. He never stops learning because nature never stands still—it’s always evolving, just like the farm.

This story was featured in Unwoven Issue 03, Textile Exchange’s annual magazine. Read the full issue here.

The post Solving the Ecosystem Regeneration Puzzle in South Africa appeared first on Textile Exchange.

An editorial project by Textile Exchange, Unwoven gathers stories from the source—tracing the materials in our clothing and textiles back to the landscapes, communities, and systems behind them. 

Centered around the theme of Local & Global, issue 3 of Unwoven magazine gathers real-world examples of how place-based knowledge and lived experience can inform and reshape global sustainability frameworks in the fashion and textile industry.

“We’re all farming on degraded land to some extent and, unless we regenerate, we  will continue to lose the battle against desertification.”

James Brodie, Wool Farmer, Doornplaats Farm

“Organic is our tradition. Earlier, all farming was done without chemicals. We decided to return to that.”

ANNAPURNA, ORGANIC COTTON FARMER, KAMARI VILLAGE IN ODISHA

All around the world, individuals and communities have developed locally adapted systems for producing or recycling materials, regenerating land, and preserving cultural heritage.  

This edition spotlights their stories, alongside commentaries on how local insights and reconnection to place might influence broader systems change. It unpacks the idea of adaptation—to environments, policy, and markets—as well as resilience, and how people and landscapes have shaped solutions to pressing sustainability challenges. 

From managing an influx of used clothing waste in Ghana, to using legislation to incentivize repair trades in France, to adapting regenerative agriculture in the arid landscapes of Western Australia, each story reveals how deep-rooted local insight can shape new models for the future. These are not isolated case studies, but practical pathways showing how regional solutions can strengthen global resilience. 

The cover is made from 50% hemp fiber paper, the inside pages are printed on recycled paper, and the magazine features open binding with a different color thread for each edition. Physical copies were distributed at our annual Textile Exchange Conference, as well as an exclusive giveaway on our Instagram.

Thank you to our contributors: Aditi Mayer, Alejandra Orosco, Bronwyn Botha, Carl van der Linde, Claudio Sala, Colèchi, Erwann Petersen, Faiza Salman, Megan Doyle, Nikita Fabbro, Priyadarshini Ravichandran, Rakshanda Bhat, Sabiha Çimen, Sophie Benson, Tonia-Marie Parker, and Tristan McKenzie

Special thanks to: Asociación Internacional de la Alpaca (AIA), Evelyn Diaz and family, FibreTrace, James Brodie, Kipaş Textiles, Magnum Photos, Organic Cotton Accelerator (OCA), Prospect Pastoral, Säntis Textiles, and The Or Foundation 

The post From Local to Global: Inside Unwoven Issue 03 appeared first on Textile Exchange.

At its heart are three essential actions that shape the future of sustainable material production: caring for land and livestock, cultivating crops, and converting the old into new. An antidote to the ambivalence that often characterizes our relationship with material items, it reframes their significance in our lives by helping to weave them into a wider conversation.

The cover of Unwoven was printed by Taylor Brothers on paper made from 50% hemp fiber by G.F Smith. The inside pages were printed on recycled paper, also by G.F Smith, and the magazine was bound using singer stitch.

Thank you to our contributors Alejandra Orosco, Anass Ouaziz, Carl Van der Linde, Danilo Arenas, Julia Webster Ayuso, Kin Chan Coedel, Lindokuhle Sobekwa, Madeleine Brunnmeier, Morgane Nyfeler, Priyadarshini Ravichandran, Sabrina Duarte, Whitney Bauck, and Will Portman.

Special thanks to Ambercycle, Beaufront Farm, Brett Walker, Coleo, CJ Lotter, Esplar, Lindsay Humphreys, Magnum Photos, Mohair Empowerment Trust, OBEPAB, PAN UK, Richie Herold, Solidaridad, Taurina Productions, Trenly Spence, and WWF-Türkiye.

The post Looking Inside Unwoven Issue 02: Care, Cultivate, Convert appeared first on Textile Exchange.

Each piece offers its own take on the links between materials and people, place, culture and nature – as well as their interconnectedness with questions around sustainability, social justice, and systems change. An antidote to the ambivalence that often characterizes our relationship with material items, it reframes their significance in our lives by helping to weave them into a wider conversation.

The cover of Unwoven was printed by Park Print on paper made from 50% hemp fiber by G.F Smith. The inside pages were printed on recycled paper, also by G.F Smith, and the magazine was bound using singer stitch.

Thank you to our contributors Carlos Jaramillo, Cecilie Nicoline Rasmussun, Christine Goulay, Kiana Kazemi, Kin Coedel, Leah Thomas, Madeleine Brunnmeier, Milan Kathiriya, Rachel Arthur, Ray Vázquez, Sabiha Çimen, Sofia Terçarolli, Yessenia Funes, and Yichen Zhou. Special thanks to FARFARM, Kipaş Textiles, Materra and Terre de Lin.

The post Introducing Unwoven: A Magazine All About the Materials in our Clothing and Textiles appeared first on Textile Exchange.